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Somewhere in Anchorage is Earl the cat: Outlaw.
A nosy 12-pound Bengal who likes sleeping and taking showers, Earl comes from a line of house cats that mated generations ago with an Asian leopard cat. That makes him something of a fugitive in Alaska, where it's illegal to own the offspring of a wild cat. Also banned in Alaska: monkeys, sloths, finches, wallaroos and a host of other creatures that animal lovers are hoping to legalize this week at a Board of Game meeting in Anchorage. The chance to amend the state's "clean list" of legal animals -- which currently includes one-humped camels and chimpanzees, but not Earl -- comes only once every four years, according to the Division of Wildlife Conservation. The meeting starts today, with dozens of proposals that would change the way animals and hunting are regulated in Alaska. There's a call to loosen requirements for salvaging meat, borne from the prosecution of caribou hunters in Point Hope, and plans to tweak the rules for killing moose for use at ceremonial potlatches. This year, prompted partly by the high-profile capture and ordered deportation of a hybrid Savannah cat named Simon in 2008, many of the proposals are from people who want to legally own exotic animals. Laurie Sivertsen of Ketchikan has wanted a monkey since she was 16. Now a bookkeeper for a plumbing company, she's waited years for the chance to ask the Game Board to allow Alaskans to own Capuchins -- the kind of monkeys that used to scramble alongside organ grinders or that Ross owned on "Friends." A Boston-based nonprofit called Helping Hands: Monkey Helpers for the Disabled has placed more than 130 Capuchins in homes over the past 30 years, said development coordinator Noelle Lafasciano. The group trains the animals to help people who are paralyzed grab a drink from the fridge, scratch an itch or place their hands back on their wheelchair after a seizure, she said. "If you think how seeing eye dogs are someone's eyes, our monkeys are the recipients' hands." Sivertsen says she's lost 60 percent of the mobility in her shoulders from a condition called fibromyalgia. She wants a Capuchin as a helper and a pet, she said. "They can change DVDs for you. They can put stuff in the microwave." CONCERNS ABOUT CARE Nineteen states prohibit owning primates, including Capuchins, which can live 25 to 40 years in captivity, according to the Department of Fish and Game. Primates are at risk to spread disease or suffer inhumane treatment, the department argued in a response to the proposal. "Monkeys and other primates are also highly intelligent and have complex social needs that are unrealistic for owners to meet." Lafasciano said each Capuchin at Helping Hands goes to "monkey college" for two to four years before it goes to live with someone. "A monkey is constantly ranking people that are in the room with them," she said. "There's always someone at the top. Sometimes they are very confident and rank themselves at the top." Sivertsen says it's not the state's place to decide if she can care for a monkey. Capuchins can cost thousands of dollars she said, and owners know what they're getting into. "It's like taking care of an infant," she said. "If somebody's willing to do that to take care of a pet, then that's their business." Christy Paquette, another petitioner asking to allow primates on the clean list, argued that the state could require potential owners to undergo hundreds of hours of training or take a test to show their competency with the monkeys. CHIMPS ARE LEGAL -- SO FAR The state Department of Fish and Game recommends saying no to all the proposals to legalize animals, as written, though officials talked about possible compromises in interviews Thursday. At the cold edge of the continent, Alaska has largely avoided invasions from exotic or invasive species, said Anchorage wildlife biologist Rick Sinnott. Anchorage, for example, is the rare port city that's not infested with rats. As a result, regulators have been hesitant to welcome new animals. "We're just really conservative and concerned about this, so we generally try to hold the line on these things," Sinnott said. Still, the clean list of legal animals, which includes obvious pets like cats and dogs as well as African pygmy hedgehogs and European ferrets, begins with a surprise. Chimpanzees. Right now they're legal. At this week's meeting the departments of Fish and Game and Environmental Conservation are calling on the Game Board to change that. Dale Rabe, deputy director for Fish and Game's Wildlife Conservation, said he's not aware of anyone owning a chimpanzee in the state. "There's a movement nationally to get the primates out of personal ownership kinds of situations," he said. Last February, a 200-pound pet chimpanzee attacked a woman in Connecticut, destroying her hands, eyes, nose and jaw. THE SLOTH LOBBY Another proposal before the board asks regulators to allow people to own sloths, kinkajous, Savannah cats, wallaroos and surgically de-venomized reptiles without a permit. If the animals remain off limits, "residents would be denied an opportunity to own/interact with these amazing animals and may be willing to break the law to obtain them," wrote Jody Westover, who requested the exceptions. Three proposals call on the state to allow ownership of hybrid cats like Earl -- whose owners asked not to be identified -- or Simon the Savannah, who is a serval mixed with domestic house cat. Alaska's rules against hybrid cats are among the most strict -- if not the toughest -- in the nation, said Joann Odd, one of the sponsors. She estimates hundreds of families own the expensive, currently illegal hybrids in Alaska. "We are being more environmentally hysterical than California," she said. In a written response to the proposals, the Department of Fish and Game says the requests would make nearly wild animals legal pets. "Like wolf hybrids, simply because a hybrid animal shares some characteristics of appearance and behavior with a domestic animal, does not make it a domestic animal," the Department wrote. Odd said the state would be legalizing cats that are already recognized breeds by the International Cat Association. She wants a hybrid but doesn't have any of her own, she said, making Odd an unofficial spokeswoman for hybrid lovers in Alaska. Meantime, cats like Earl remain hidden as owners who say they didn't know their hybrid was illegal lay low in fear of losing their animals. Rabe, the deputy director for Wildlife Conservation, said the state may suggest the board adopt a plan that allows for ownership of cats that are proven to be many generations removed from wild animals.