At least until the monkeys came along.
With all their energy, he thought for sure they'd be more like the industrious goats, who trimmed the hedges, clipped the grass.
Or maybe like the giraffe, lending his talents to putting the dishes in the high shelves. Cleaning the cobwebs along the ceiling corners.
The spotted leopard made the bed each morning, the sheets tucked so neatly, nice and tight. And the floors had never been so clean until the tortoise and iguana took up a broom.
But the monkeys...
They played their music way too loud; stayed out until untold hours of the night. Left trails of banana peels on the stairway. Walked around the house in their underwear. Wrestled on the sofa, the recliner, the loveseat.
Hogged the TV remote. Looked at who-knows-what on the Internet.
And then the hippo told him of the bathtub, its water overflowing, running down the hall. The final straw.
He ran some, swam some, to the bathroom, finally turning off the faucet and pulling the chain on the plug. Enough of this monkey business, he stormed to their room.
But, alas, they were gone, closet empty, carpet torn, paintings missing from the wall.
He leaned his head against the door, letting out a long sigh. Now that he thought about it, it really wasn't much of a surprise.
Their rent was a month overdue.