About Monty

 I am not the easiest person to be around. I am too opinionated for my own good, I talk too much about things no one cares about, I rarely talk (no need to point out the contradiction), I am contradictory in the things I say, in short I have many issues.

People don't always find it easy to approach me and if they do, they always need time to see whether I am as whacky as I seem. And I don't always take the trouble to make it easier for them and that's my fault. Having said all that, there is one subject that even if breached in my darkest mood will always ensure a good reaction from me: Monty.

Monty is myself in dog form. It's almost a cliché, really. But I don't care. I will not change my statement for the sake of originality.

I love Monty. He's my baby. People smile when I say that, like it's a bit twisted but in my case it makes sense. I don't care. I love Monty.

Now, I did mention Monty is myself in dog form. I did mention I am not exactly an easy person to be around. I will not conclude that Monty is the same because he's perfect in my eyes, and unless you're under twelve in age, you can't help but see his perfection. If you have the misfortune to be under twelve, then he thinks you're prey and we're often in the position where we have to make a hedge around him to protect children from him. He'd be a little mad at me for sharing that about him so publicly, but I trust he won't read my blog.

Monty is a beagle. As a breed, beagles “are gentle, sweet, and funny. They will make you laugh, but that's when they're not making you cry because of their often naughty behavior”. More info here.

Yesterday, Emma and I took him for a walk. When it's just the two of us I always have to hold the lead because apparently I have control issues and I think I can hold onto him better and Emma humors me because she likes to make me think I'm right. Anyway, we went on a walk which it's always an adventure with Monty. The moment we set foot outside, his nose is to the ground and he's in hunting mode and I always get pulled every which way. But I'm in control! So I have a path in mind. Monty doesn't care about the path. I'm not even sure he sees the path. I'm always next to this bush or that tree trying to hold onto him. In my defense, when I carried a little more weight I was able to control him better, now I just look like a flag blown by the wind that is Monty. Anybody that sees us laughs because I'll admit that it's funny, but I resent their remarks.

Monty is the sweetest boy in the world. He's always relaxed (unless there's food around, then all bets are off), he's always playing or wants cuddles. But nobody that doesn't live with us can tell if they see him outside. To any sane person he seems like too much of a handful because they're not aware that he has inside him the power to make three people love him so completely and loyally that we would do anything for him. We all have our own roles in his mind. Daniel is the leader of the pack and he always wants to impress him. Emma is the person he looks for whenever he wants extra food and cuddles. I am another beagle. But we work. It might not seem that way to anybody else, but we work.

While we were on the walk yesterday and I was getting pulled all over the place, I had an epiphany. I saw myself as Monty in my own walk with God.

Whenever I walk Monty I have a plan in mind. I know the path I want to take. Knowing my boy is stubborn and his nose cannot be trusted to stick to the path, I always double check his harness that it's tight enough. I wrap the longest lead you've ever seen around my arm and I decide the length I am willing to give him as to not have him too far away from me that I can't reach him if he stumbles upon a child. I check for poo bags and we're off. The first thing out of my mouth, once we're outside will undoubtedly be, 'wait!'. He will of course ignore me and I will keep repeating it even if I know that by the time we get back, the count will be well in to the hundreds. His nose takes him everywhere and he looks like he's in a frenzy. If I want his attention I have to stop him and call out to him several times and use my playful voice with him, but when he looks up he melts my heart every time because he gets this goofy expression on his face and wags his tail and comes to me with such pure happiness that I know he knows he's loved. But that lasts about five seconds and he's off again. And again I'm getting dragged every which way. We're still going where I want to. But we're a spectacle, to be sure.

Yesterday, Monty has sensed some pleasing scent and dove for it. He went straight to the ground and proceeded to roll in whatever he found. I am familiar with his ways so I pulled him back. It didn't look like anything was on him so we kept on walking happy that we dodged a bullet. We get back home and the 'pleasing' smell was so potent that I had to give him a shower which he takes as if it's a punishment. He doesn't get it that it's unpleasant to humans and doesn't understand why we don't love it. But he's resigned to his treatment. He stays there with his head down, looking all pitiful while I wash him. He thinks I enjoy making him miserable. He doesn't understand how much of a chore it is to wash him. I have to pick him up while he stinks to the heavens. He's quite heavy. I have to fight him to stay in the tub. I get drenched in water and by the time I'm done with him I need a shower. But I clean him because I want to be able to touch him again. Not out of resentment, or unforgiveness, but because I need to be able to be close to him. He is a bit grumpy for a few hours, but then we're back to our usual.

I know I'm a handful for God. But He loves me. For some unknown reason, He loves me. He knows all my shortcomings. He knows I'm not one of those wonderful obedient people that can be trusted to walk pace to pace with their Master. He knows I can't be trusted off the lead because any minute I might bite a child (or some defenseless soul). He knows I am constantly looking for food that He hasn't approved off. He knows I pull Him along with no regard for His arm, just to test how far I can go. He knows that if I happen upon some fox's lovely discarded gift, I will not hesitate to roll in it even if that will make Him angry. He knows I'm stubborn. He knows He'll have to wash me clean for His sake because I won't care. He knows that won't be fun for any of us. But He also knows that all He has to do is call in that voice I know He has only for me and I'll come running and I'll see Him as the sun and the moon and all the stars in one. He's aware that He doesn't have my attention for long, but He collects those moments like some collect Gucci bags. And I am grateful. Only He knows how grateful.

by Cristina Pop