Some of the most amazing relationships in my life have come about when I wasn’t looking for one to happen. The night I met the Monkey Daddy. My former love.
My first baby…
No. I didn’t have a child I haven’t talked about before. This baby wasn’t a “human” child. He was a furry one. A VERY furry one.
He was a dog. Duffey.
The day I found Duffey (or I should probably say, he found me), I wasn’t expecting to fall in love. I was just looking at the puppies. And then he looked up at me from out of his cage with his silly little grin and that right ear flopped over his head – and his chocolate-brown eyes locked with mine – and I was lost.
I actually walked out of the store, got into the car, and started driving away. Then the tears came. I knew I couldn’t leave him. He was mine. So, I turned around and walked back in and didn’t leave again until that 11 pound 11 week old collie/shepherd mix was with me.
He was the sweetest dog. Always happy. Playful. A tiny bit mischievous. And BIG. 85 pounds of love.
Duffey was in my life before The Monkey Daddy. Before any of the Three Monkeys. But, Duffey welcomed each one of them into our lives like they were meant to be there. He was so good with the Monkeys. They crawled on him. Used him as a back rest. Fed him from their high chairs. Every night we would hear him make his rounds into each of the children’s rooms – checking on them – making sure they were safe.
His bond with The Girl Child was the strongest. She loved him almost as much as me or her father or her brothers or even her beloved Kitty Kat (her lovey…yes it is a rabbit – long story).
I knew he wouldn’t be around forever. After he turned 10, I pretty much considered every additional month with him a gift. After he turned 13, he started aging more rapidly. Within 6 months he lost most of his hearing, had doggy dementia, became incontinent, walking became harder. I stopped letting him go up and down the stairs. In this same time period, my marriage was coming to an end. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Duffey, too. But it was coming – faster and faster.
Then came the day when he could not stand. At all. Not even with help. He wouldn’t eat. He barely drank. And I knew it was time for us all to say our final good-byes and with love let Duffey go. It was the day before Monkey #1 was to come back from his trip to France with his grandmother. So I had to make the agonizing decision to either wait until #1 came back, or have him not be able to say good-bye to his beloved dog. I decided to wait until he came home.
I still miss him. And I swear, even four years later, I still find some of his long hair in corners of closets. (Every summer he would blow that double coat – and we would be knee-deep in fur. ) I know that dogs like him don’t come along every day.
It has taken me four years, but I think I am ready to enter into a new furry romance. Ironically, it has taken me longer to feel ready to “replace” Duffey than The Monkey Daddy… Please don’t take offense to that when you read that, Monkey Daddy! 🙂
The Monkeys and I have been searching for the perfect rescue dog, and we think we might have found it. Her picture stirred the same feelings in me like I had with Duffey, Something is pulling me to her. We will meet her for the first time next weekend. We are all nervous. We want it to go well, but we also all know that we can’t let pure emotion rule this decision. With any luck this furry baby will be with us for a long time, and we have to make sure she will make a good addition to our family.
Of course, the last time I was in this position, I did let my heart rule my head – and look how beautifully that turned out.
Maybe this will be just as grand.