When Roy Carlson lost his animal companion it was like many other heartbreaking pet losses — he was more a family member than a pet.

But his “family member” wore clothes. He rode a bike, picked out his own clothes and brushed his own teeth. He did his best to speak. And he charmed and entertained people everywhere he went — regular walks around Como and Phalen lakes, parades, community and school events and special appearances.

“He was more human than he was an animal. When he looked at you, it was a human look at you,” Carlson said. “… He wasn’t my pet; I was his human.”

Mikee, a macaque monkey, died unexpectedly last month of heart problems, just shy of 20 years old. Carlson is devastated but now has set a Celebration of Life on Nov. 5 for those who loved Mikee to share stories and memories.

“Mikee will be missed,” said Robert Humphrey, a spokesman for St. Paul’s safety and inspections department. “I live on Lake Phalen and my kids are sad. He would always walk by and Roy would have him wave his little hand. … My kids would say, ‘It’s Mikee!’

“He really added to the entire urban experience,” said Humphrey, who added that Carlson was always meticulous about keeping up his animal permit. Related Articles St. Thomas convenes group on renamings after learning namesake bishop owned slave

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Carlson and his wife, Beverly, bought Mikee after their five children had grown. They considered adopting more children, but then Carlson, who had a way with monkeys as a teenager working in pet stores, ran across someone who put him in touch with an exotic pets seller. Soon after they got him, Minnesota banned exotic animal ownership, but the Carlsons were grandfathered in.

“First he was my wife’s baby, he liked to cuddle up to Mama and he was just a little tyke; he fit in the palm of your hand,” Carlson said. “But when he got to be a bigger boy he wanted to be a macho boy and go to work with dad. He didn’t want to sit out and be a baby; he wanted to get out in the world and do things.”

That’s when the socializing began.

“Just the human interaction — he tried to speak back. He was fussy about what he wanted to wear for clothes. He wanted to be kept clean. All the stories you hear about monkeys were untrue, at least about Mikee because he was so humanized, he didn’t know anything else.

“People asked me, ‘Do you have a jungle gym for him?’ I’d say no, he had his own bedroom, just like a kid,” he said.

When Carlson was at work, Mikee spent his days in his room, where his big-screen TV was preprogrammed for channels such as Animal Planet and the History Channel and the show “Modern Marvels.” (“Left to his own devices he’d probably watch the wrong thing — he was like a kid,” Carlson said.)

He was picky about his clothes, too, and didn’t want to be naked. Carlson would lay out outfits and Mikee would toss the ones he didn’t want that day and hug the ones he did. Carlson used to call an Old Navy store where the staff would follow, never minding picking up Mikee’s castoffs as he chose what he wanted — based on what he saw on TV, Carlson said. Most recently he was into Under Armour, Carlson said.

The Carlsons got Mikee a kitten not long before his death, and the two became fast friends, the kitten offering up his tummy for grooming and Mikee obliging. “Something to play with when I wasn’t home, and he was so gentle and the cat just loved it. He would lay down by him and (Mikee) would rub him down,” Carlson said.

The stories abound.

There’s the time a pilot took him into the cockpit for an entire flight, where the always inquisitive Mikee quietly observed (“This was before September 11th,” Carlson said) and his knack for choosing winning presidential candidates, by frowning at those he didn’t like and being animated when seeing those he did (“He didn’t like Hillary,” Carlson said.)

Those who knew Mikee from trails and parades knew that if you wanted to befriend him, first you had to “demonkey-size yourself” — remove your hat, glasses and hoop earrings, lest he toss them off their faces. As Mikee relaxed around people, they could kneel on one knee and he sat on the other knee.

He also checked pockets. He was accustomed to many fans carrying treats for him in their pockets — unsalted peanuts, red grapes and other things he liked.

One woman who knew Carlson and Mikee from Como Lake asked if the two could surprise her large group of women friends reuniting from different states. Carlson agreed, but cautioned the woman that Mikey might be shy with such a large group and maybe they would get a few pictures and a few minutes’ time from him.

“No, no, he sat on every woman’s lap, hugged them and kissed them on the chin, every single one of them — all 37 of them. He was hammin’ it up to the women. Because he was a teenage boy,” he said.

Carlson, 68, always carried Mikee — even when Mikee reached 52 pounds — to protect Mikee’s feet, but also for his own security and because Mikee was protective of his dad. Mikee also would climb up onto Carlson’s shoulders — and did the same with lots of his fans, including police officers. Related Articles Frogtown Community Center unveils new artificial turf field, playground and outdoor fun

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Carlson credits his own good health with the strict diet he kept for Mikee to stay healthy. “We ate fruits and veggies every day and it kept us bulletproof,” Carlson said.

That’s part of the reason Mikee’s premature death was such a surprise: Carlson said life expectancy for his breed in captivity would be 50 years.

“I expected he would live longer than me, and I had plans with my family. … All the plans were in place that if something happened to me he would be put down with me,” Carlson said.

“People told me that sounded cruel,” he said. “But I say, ‘No, cruelty would be [Mikee] going to a zoo, sitting in a lonely environment, not being able to put clothes on, not being able to watch TV, not being able to interact with people, take pictures and go places.” All the things Mikee loved.

IF YOU GO

What: A Celebration of Life for Mikee the Monkey

When: 1 to 7 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 5

Where: Czech-Slovak Hall (C.S.P.S. Hall), 383 Michigan St. (at West Seventh), St. Paul