Tomorrow brings us to mid November. Where has the time gone?
Looking forward to a special family gathering at mom & dad's for supper tomorrow. We've decided to spend more time together as a family, so we'll make it a top priority to gather together once every one or two months. It isn't exactly easy with a family of six, plus husbands and grandchildren, but I'm glad we are all making an effort.
Since we have come together and opened our hearts to overcome the major obstacles that threatened to separate us, we have all finally arrived on the same page with love, understanding, forgiveness and respect. Never have we ever become so close.
The air doesn't hang so heavy, and the tone has changed drastically. Even the dogs are different. Speaking of dogs, I thought I would share the story of Monty. My mom's little Pomeranian/Yorkshire Terrier mix.
Monty was almost five months old when my mom picked him up from the pet store in which my sister worked. She actually got a little discount because the manager couldn't sell him, 'because he was so ugly' he said. He was small for his age. The runt of the litter. Interesting features unlike any other dog I had seen, he was about the size of a pound of butter.
I was about forteen years old when mom brought him home that night. She brought him to the house where I was babysitting until evening. I can remember the anticipation that ran through me, as I just wanted to get home, to get to know our new little dog.
His body shook with fear, as he had a hard time adjusting to his first night in the new home. I knew that he needed me, so I brought a blanket into the hallway and I slept on the floor with him all night.
So at what point did my tender moments with the little guy turn to anger? I resented Monty so much that on recent visits to my parents I would push him off me, disgusted by the smell of his breath. The way he couldn't control his sneezing and snotting all over me when he got excited. The way his jagged teeth jutted out with an overbite.
On my last visit to my parents, which was Halloween night, I came down to look after the dogs Chloe and Monty while my parents were away for the weekend. It was then that we had our little intervention.
Monty hesistantly came into the bedroom and curled up at the end of the bed. I invited him to come closer, and on his own he wouldn't. I picked his small body up, and he was shaking. The same way he was 10 years earlier, that first night mom brought him home. I realized then that I had been cruel. Not physically, but emotionally I must have made some sort of impact, for him to feel uneasy around me. Which brought me to the question, why? Why had I been so cruel. As crazy as it is, I could actually pinpoint it to the exact day I began to resent him.
I had just moved away from my parents place a few months after I turned nineteen. Just four days after my move, my cat 'Missy' of seven years mysteriously disappeared. At that time it was crushing. I felt heavy, like my lungs were being crushed. I felt like I had lost my closest friend, because I did. As a child I didn't really have a whole lot of friends, so at twelve years old I confided in the one little being that listened to every word I said. That comforted my tears, and kissed away the hurt.
I called home everyday to see if she'd been found, only to find out what I already knew; I would never see her again.
In my desperation for sanity I asked mom if I could take Monty for the night, and she agreed. And so, I spent the night talking to Monty while he listened with complete focus and understanding, even though he had absolutely no clue what I was talking about. He knew in some way I needed him, and maybe he felt it his duty to comfort me as I had him his first night in his new home.
At one point I took him outside for a bathroom break. I hooked him up to his collar, and headed down the three flight of stairs in my pajamas, and big boots that were sizes too big for me. I didn't even think to bring a jacket, as I just thought we'd be in and out. The cold November chill hit me like a slap in the face. It was well below freezing. Monty was in no hurry to do his business.
I slipped on some ice at the same moment Monty pulled away from me, taking off with such lightning speed.
Horrified I thought, 'I just lost my cat, and now I'm going to lose my mother's dog.'
My heart felt like it was splitting in two, as I tried to run after him. The boots were practically falling off my feet, I was slipping on ice, and the cold numbed every inch of my body. After five minutes of panic, desperation and humiliation, I made one last final attempt as I lunged for Monty's leash dragging behind him.
Success. I was so angry when I caught him, I couldn't see straight. My body fueled with tremendous loss, and now relief that he was alive and safe.
It was then, that very day, that I realized how much I had lost. And how much I never wanted to go through that again. And so, Monty became the poor victim of my hatred. 'I will never love you' I told him. 'Never'
In this overwhelming observation it hit me. I have been cruel. Instead of loving Monty, I pushed him away. Instead of praising him, I broke his spirit.
Maybe there was just too much silence in the house while everyone was away. Maybe I was just lonely, that I actually had a conversation with Monty and asked for his forgiveness. For the first time in five years, he snuggled up to me without feeling uncomfortable. I felt his loyalty and I felt his love. Just a simple moment, that softened a coldness in my heart. That little Monty, unique in his own way, was not a monster after all.
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