Monty the poop eater

I remember telling people that I would never stop playing with my beloved pug Monty. Even though I’ve said many things in the past, and then changed my mind – nothing is set in stone with me, quite the opposite – I never wanted to forget my first love, my furry child who always had a special place in my heart.

I am not writing about Monty because he is dead — he is getting older and greyer – but because I have noticed that lately my hands are too clean. No dog slobber, distinctive pug smell, white hair stuck to my shirt and keyboard, or even to the baby’s outfits. No, these days I am paying little attention to Monty.

Our relationship isn’t over. And there isn’t anyone else. I have been faithful. I simply got too busy and forgot about my baby. Looking back, I have to be fair to him because for his part, Monty hasn’t changed at all. He is still the same pain in the butt he always was, chewing on things, peeing out of spite or just for fun, eating poopy diapers whenever he can grab one, and licking the cream cheese off my kids’ bagels when they’re not careful – his favorite.

I am the one who has changed. I am busier with our many children and with our activities, and my focus is on writing, trying to keep the house afloat, and keeping the laundry monster at bay. Still, I don’t want to forget Monty just because I am running around, because he and I always had a special bond.

Monty and I are way past our honeymoon phase, which lasted well over a year, when I snuggled with him all day long and cradled his little body in my arms (until he became a giant ball, thanks to my treat overindulgence) no matter what I was doing, reading, eating, writing, typing, anything. We still have some great times together, playing with a red ball he loves, having my children take him out for a walk on the leash (which he hates) and sitting together, me writing, he snoring.

He has adapted fairly well to each additional child and pet that came along (we have another pug and a cat) and willingly or unwillingly learned to share my time and affection.

If you own a pet, or are a pet lover, you probably know what I am talking about. The unconditional love that he gives me is unparalleled, and I am convinced that sometimes when I pet him and he sits on my lap, he knows exactly what I am thinking and how I am feeling, and makes everything better by simply loving me in that moment just the way I am, angry, sad, happy or excited.

I think it’s my turn to show gratitude for what he meant and still means to me — I don’t want to take him for granted even if he is four legged and hairy. He is a pet, but he is an important part of our lives, a constant presence in the emotional roller coaster of human relationships.

But enough writing – time for action. This Christmas I am taking my baby out for some serious treats. And, if he’s lucky I may even get him a date under the mistletoe with a tiny bowl of cream cheese.