Betty, Dublin Zoo’s longest resident and oldest chimp in human care, dead at 62 — rest in peace

Betty, the chimpanzee that had been at the Dublin Zoo for the longest and the oldest living chimp under human care, passed away last week at the age of 62. She was one of the zoo’s most cherished and well-known inmates.

A zoo blog article claims that Betty had age-related ailments that were impairing her quality of life, and the tough choice to end her life was made to spare her from suffering in the future.

Although it is heartbreaking to lose Betty, she enjoyed a lengthy life that exceeded the average lifespan of a chimpanzee in captivity. According to the zoo, she was also the oldest chimpanzee in human care at the time of her death.

Team leader Helen Clarke Bennett of Dublin Zoo, who has worked as a zookeeper since 1987 and has known Betty for many years, paid tribute to her.

In 1964, a West African chimpanzee named Betty made her way to Dublin. Bennett notes that Betty participated in archaic practices like “Chimp Tea Parties” and that the Dublin Zoo continued to operate in the “style of the early Victorian era zoos” throughout that period.

Betty saw major advancements in zoo standards throughout her decades-long confinement. For example, in the 1990s, the chimp habitat was transformed from a metal-barred concrete “pit” to an island with trees.

Bennett claimed to have known Betty since the zoo’s early years since Michael Clarke, Betty’s father, was looking after her at the time. The chimp was “always strong-minded,” according to him, and would not give up on her goals.

After Wendy moved in 1964, Betty’s best friend, Wendy, became an integral part of her life for the majority of it. One of the cutest pairs in the zoo was formed by the two monkeys.

“Wendy had a cheeky side, but Betty could hold her accountable!” Bennett penned the piece. “When Wendy was obstinately refusing to go outside while the habitat was being cleaned, Betty putting her arm around her to encourage her to go outside with the rest of the troop will always be one of my favorite pictures.”

Betty and Wendy celebrated their 50th birthdays together in 2012 at the zoo. The zoo workers believed that Betty, who was devastated by Wendy’s death in 2014, wouldn’t be far behind.

She even managed to live on for a further ten years, rising to the rank of dominating female chimpanzee and earning the title of longest-serving inhabitant of the zoo.

Bennett stated that Betty experienced reduced kidney function and chronic arthritis in her latter years, which affected her weight and mobility. She was also under continuous wellness management.

They had to make the tough but humane decision to end the beloved chimp’s life after all medicinal and surgical alternatives had been tried. Even though Betty is no longer with us, she will always be cherished as a unique original and a zoogoer’s favorite for many decades to come.

“Although I am really saddened to bid farewell to a friend I have known since I was a young child, I am sure that Betty’s euthanasia was the right choice, ensuring that she didn’t suffer needlessly and preserving her dignity to the very end. That gives me a great deal of comfort,” Bennett wrote.

“Everyone here at Dublin Zoo as well as the many generations of visitors who were fortunate enough to know her will miss Betty terribly; there will never be another like her.”

Peace be with you, Betty. You lived a very long life, and it’s obvious that your loved ones and caregivers cherished you.

MY DAUGHTER TOLD ME I’M MAKING A FOOL OF MYSELF AFTER I SENT HER A PHOTO OF ME IN A WEDDING SUIT

The crisp white of the wedding suit stared back at him from the full-length mirror, a stark contrast to the weathered lines etched on his face. Arnold, at 75, felt a flutter of nervous excitement, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in decades. He smoothed down the lapels, a wide grin spreading across his face. Helen, his Helen, had said yes.

He couldn’t wait to share the news with his daughter, Emily. He snapped a quick photo, a proud, beaming smile plastered across his face, and sent it to her with a simple message: “Guess who’s getting married!”

He waited, his heart pounding with anticipation. The phone buzzed, and he eagerly opened the message. But the words that appeared on the screen were like a slap in the face.

“Dad, you’re making a fool of yourself. You’re too old to play dress-up and pretend you’re a groom. At your age, it’s pathetic. And what ‘LOVE’ could you possibly have at 75?!”

The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. He felt a wave of shame wash over him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was a young boy. Had he really become a pathetic old man, clinging to a childish dream?

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, the wedding suit suddenly feeling like a heavy, suffocating weight. He remembered the first time he had met Helen, her warm smile, her gentle touch. They had met in the nursing home, two lonely souls finding solace in each other’s company.

Helen had brought a spark back into his life, a warmth he thought he had lost forever. She had listened to his stories, shared her own, and made him feel seen, truly seen, for the first time in years. He had fallen in love, a deep, abiding love that defied age and circumstance.

He looked at the photo of himself, the beaming smile now a ghostly reminder of his shattered joy. Was he really being ridiculous? Was he making a fool of himself?

He thought of Helen, her eyes filled with love and laughter, her hand warm in his. He thought of the joy they shared, the quiet moments of companionship, the feeling of being truly alive again.

He picked up the phone, his fingers trembling, and dialed Emily’s number.

“Emily,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, “I understand you’re concerned. But Helen makes me happy. She makes me feel alive again. And I’m not going to apologize for finding love at this stage of my life.”

“Dad, you don’t understand,” Emily pleaded. “People will talk. They’ll laugh at you.”

“Let them,” Arnold replied, his voice gaining strength. “I’m not living my life for them. I’m living it for myself, for Helen.”

“But Dad—”

“No, Emily,” Arnold interrupted. “This is my decision. I’m going to marry Helen. And I hope, one day, you’ll understand.”

He hung up the phone, a sense of resolve settling over him. He wouldn’t let anyone, not even his own daughter, steal his happiness.

He walked to the mirror, his gaze meeting his own. He looked at the lines on his face, the silver in his hair, and he saw not a pathetic old man, but a man who had found love, a man who had the courage to embrace it.

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. He would marry Helen. They would build a life together, filled with love and laughter, defying the expectations of others, proving that love, like life, has no age limit.

The wedding was small, intimate, filled with the warmth of genuine affection. Helen, radiant in her simple white dress, stood beside him, her hand clasped in his. They exchanged vows, their voices filled with love and promise.

As they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, Arnold felt a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years. He had chosen love, chosen happiness, and he had chosen himself. And that, he knew, was the greatest gift of all.

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