Fonzie's cool, but the lawsuit isn't
Gulfport's favorite lemur was just hanging out at the garage when a little monkeying around got him in lot of trouble.
By LANE DEGREGORY
Published April 16, 2006
GULFPORT - This is a story about a woman who needed an alternator, the mechanic who wanted to help her, and the lemur that came between them.
The lemur's name is Fonzie. Despite the lawsuit, the investigation from wildlife officers, the threats of incarceration and decapitation, the lemur is beloved. And he has impeccable character references.
For three years, Fonzie hung out in the window of the Gulfport Garage, overlooking the sidewalk. Everyone in town knew him. The vice mayor often stopped by even when he didn't need an oil change.
"Oh, I'd always go in to see Fonzie. He was as friendly as could be," says Vice Mayor John E. "Ted" Phillips, 86. "He'd chatter at me, hold my finger."
Fonzie's window is empty now. He hasn't been at the garage for six months, ever since he was accused of scratching a customer. Fonzie's owner says the charges are a setup; the customer isn't commenting.
Either way, the lemur is on house arrest - at least until the case is resolved.
"I'd like to see him back," the vice mayor says. "I miss him. Why, I'd testify to that monkey's character in court."
For the record, Fonzie is not a monkey. He's a ring-tailed lemur, a prosimian - "pre-monkey." Their snouts are longer, their brains smaller, their sense of smell better. Roughly the size of cats, they have pointy ears, unblinking yellow eyes and paws like hands.
This particular lemur, the exiled Fonzie, belongs to Eric Cudar. Eric was a paralegal and personal trainer before he started running the Gulfport Garage. A 38-year-old bachelor, he only dates women who don't mind curling up with a lemur.
His lemur love began as a boy. When his parents took him to Busch Gardens and everyone else was riding rollercoasters, Eric would park himself by the lemur habitat and watch for hours. He didn't realize you could own one as a pet until a customer at the garage brought him a classified ad. A breeder in St. Petersburg was selling five baby lemurs.
Eric picked Fonzie because he was the smallest, most timid of them all. He offered $3,000 worth of work on the breeder's Corvette in exchange for the lemur and a state permit. He named Fonzie after the guy in Happy Days "because everyone says he's sooo cool."
From the start, Fonzie was way cooler than Henry Winkler. Eric bottle-fed him until he was big enough to crunch a monkey biscuit. He trained Fonzie to use the toilet. He taught him to brush his teeth.
They were inseparable. They would take long walks together around Gulfport, with Fonzie leaping down the sidewalk on his leash. When he got tired, the lemur would scale Eric's arm and curl up on his shoulder.
But that was long ago. Before the woman made her accusation.
Before an animal control officer came to the garage demanding, "Hand over the monkey."
Only three witnesses know what really happened: The woman who needed an alternator. Eric. And Fonzie.
The woman, Michelle Fox, was tough to track down. On police reports, she listed her address as Kenneth City. But the person who answered the phone said Fox hasn't lived there for months. Fox's mother lives in Tennessee and gave a Tennessee cell phone number for her daughter. But Fox didn't return repeated phone messages.
Public records show she's 33 and once was a licensed nail technician. Her Florida criminal record includes convictions for robbery with a deadly weapon, fraud and impersonation.
Fox's lawyer, Philip Judd Slotnick of Tampa, left a message saying he would be glad to discuss the case, but never did.
Eric's attorney, Dianne Griffith of Gulfport, wasn't sure her client should talk about Fonzie. She's worried the judge might request a change of venue.
No one in Gulfport, she says, would drive to another county to testify for a lemur.
Michelle Fox came into the garage just before closing time on Nov. 17, saying her car wasn't working. Fonzie was out of his cage, on his harness and leash, because Eric was getting ready to walk him home.
How cute! Eric remembers the woman saying. She bent down, Eric told a fish and wildlife officer, and tried to call the lemur to her. "Don't," Eric says he told her. The woman didn't listen, Eric told the officer. She gestured for Fonzie to come.
The lemur leaped to her shoulder. Eric jerked the leash to bring him down. Fonzie tried to grab onto her and his nails scratched her right arm.
"I drove her to the emergency room," Eric says. He waited while the doctor put 12 stitches in her arm. "I told the hospital to send the bill to me." Eric paid for Fox's antibiotics and took her back to the garage.
The next day, Eric says, she came back to his shop and he fixed her car for free. "Where's Fonzie?" Eric says Fox asked him. She said she wanted to bring her kids to meet the lemur.
"After what happened," Eric told her, "I kept Fonzie at home."
He never saw the woman again. He thought that was the end of it.
Four days later, an animal control officer showed up at the garage.
The woman had hired a lawyer; according to the Gulfport police, she had reported the incident on her lawyer's advice. The police alerted animal control, who sent an officer to the garage. The officer told Eric that to test for rabies, the lemur might have to be sacrificed.
"He told me they were going to chop off Fonzie's head," Eric says.
When dogs or cats are suspected of having rabies, animal control officers put them in quarantine. But for exotic animals, the test requires brain tissue.
Eric wasn't about to let anyone decapitate his lemur. He would go to jail, do anything to save Fonzie. He had left the lemur at home that day, but he didn't tell the officer that. Instead, Eric said he had a permit to keep Fonzie and would go home to get it. He ran to his house, panicking. He stashed Fonzie at a friend's house and started making plans to smuggle the lemur out of the country.
When Eric didn't return to the garage, the animal control officer went to Eric's house, then his mother's house. His mom swore she wasn't harboring the ring-tailed fugitive.
Later that afternoon, another law enforcement officer knocked on Eric's door. Lt. Steve DeLacure has worked for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission for 16 years. He thinks lemurs get a bad rap. "They don't carry old world monkey diseases," he says. "It's not even known if they can carry rabies."
The wildlife officer promised Eric no one would hurt Fonzie. So Eric took him to the friend's house where Fonzie was under wraps.
"He was a social lemur. He seemed well behaved," DeLacure said later. "Eric really goes overboard. He treats that animal like his child."
You can keep Fonzie, DeLacure told Eric. But if you're going to bring him to the garage, you'll need a display permit. Turns out Eric's pet permit only allowed him to keep Fonzie at his house. The officer charged Eric with "unsafe handling," a misdemeanor, and fined him $300.
Around town, folks started taking up a collection.
The lawsuit was filed in late February. Case number 06-1306-CI-11 began with the woman's complaint:
Plaintiff Michelle Fox was an invitee at Gulfport Garage when she encountered a monkey.
Again with the monkey.
Defendant should have known that the monkey could harm a person and, specifically, Plaintiff Michelle Fox.
Her suit accused Eric of the following:
Failing to properly maintain and/or secure and/or restrain the monkey . . .
Failing to warn of the monkey's dangerous propensity.
Fox asked for more than $15,000 in damages for, among other things:
bodily injury and resulting pain and suffering, disability, disfigurement, loss of capacity for the enjoyment of life . . .
Last week, Eric's attorney filed a response, arguing that Eric and the garage are not liable.
Defendant is unaware of any duty to insure a lemur, statutory or otherwise.
In addition, Eric's attorney argues that Fox has no one to blame but herself.
Plaintiff intentionally and unreasonably subjected herself to any and all risks involved . . . including provoking and/or aggravating the lemur.
Experts agree: Don't ever aggravate a lemur.
The females will attack you. If it's mating season, the males can shoot scent at you that stinks worse than any lawsuit.
"Lemurs are not pets. They're wild animals. They don't know how to signal their desires or read ours," says Monica Hoffine, who studies the prosimians at the Myakka City Lemur Preserve.
"Even lemurs that have been really loved by humans, it's not a good idea," Hoffine says. "They're extremely social. They need other lemurs."
Ring-tailed lemurs, like Fonzie, settle disputes with mock battles, jabs and barbs - sort of like lawyers. Females are more aggressive. Males show who's boss through stink wars. They rub their tails onto scent glands on their arms, then wave their tails in the air.
"If the lemur went to jump on that woman, he was probably wondering why she didn't cuff him back," Hoffine says. "To captive lemurs, humans become other lemurs."
Fonzie pines for his former life.
Every morning when Eric is getting ready for work, Fonzie brings him his own toothbrush. The lemur wants to go to the garage, too.
"He feels like he's being punished," Eric says. "But he doesn't know what he did wrong."
In the garage window, a stack of Interstate batteries has replaced Fonzie's cage. Folks still stop in - sometimes a dozen a day - asking: "How's Fonzie?" "When's the kid coming back?"
The lemur has his own MySpace page: www.myspace.com/fonzielemur Eric started it so Fonzie's friends can keep up with him during these dark days.
According to his Web page, Fonzie is an Aries. He favors gothic, industrial and punk music. His favorite movie is The Matrix.
Around town, people are talking about starting a petition: Free Fonzie! More than 150 folks have offered to sign, Eric says.
No date has been set for the lawsuit. Eric hasn't decided whether he'll buy that other permit to display Fonzie at the garage. Too much exposure to random humans might not be in the lemur's best interest.
"I just miss him so much. I don't know how to explain how wonderful he is," Eric says. "He's somewhere between a dog and a child to me. He can tell when I had a bad day. He puts his arms up and runs to me to hug me. Then he just grooms and grooms me, licking my ears, arms, forehead."
Eric's voice breaks. He looks down, rubs his fist across both eyes. "Sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to get so emotional. It's just . . ." He stops again.
"I couldn't live without Fonzie. I'm hoping we'll grow old together."
Times researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report. Lane DeGregory can be reached at degregory@sptimes.com or 727 893-8825.