Monkey arrived in our home in, I think, 2011. GB and I had been hiking with our two Newfs, Doc and Nisha, near Evergreen. As we approached our car, I noticed a rescue group holding an event. I spotted a little Shih Tzu and GB said, “Go look”. I did. I walked up to the little Shih Tzu who wagged her tail as hard as she could possibly wag. She was adorable. Loveable. Sweet. I was in love. Then, another, small brownish, ragged looking dog came up, looked at me and I clearly heard her say, “Fuck you”.
Wow. No one’s going to take that dog.
Except we did. We took both because they were a bonded pair. And we dubbed them “the Grifters”.
I’d like to be fair to Monkey, but it’s hard. She doesn’t like anything or anyone. Well, I’ll amend that because it turns out she does like something, but I won’t mention it until the end of this story.
Mimi was cuddly and always available. Monkey not.
Mimi was obedient and wanted to please. Monkey didn’t care.
Mimi always responded to her name and came running expectantly to find out what wonderful thing was going to happen. Monkey ignored requests, suggestions, orders, or commands.
Monkey hated any dog that visited. She also hated the parade of Newfs, Goldens, Labbies, Bulldogs, Mutts, chickens, turkeys, lambs, birds, or people that wandered in and out of our home and garden over the years.
Mimi offered her tummy. Monkey offered nothing.
The two of them lived charmed lives. They’d sit on the terrace waiting for someone to walk by and then begin a ritual that was observed multiples times each day. The bark would begin and follow them as they turned tail, ran down the stairs, around the west side of the house and arrived at the front gate. Once they arrived wherever the Newfs were lolling, the bark fest would quadruple as all four dogs would stand their ground. Newfs, of course, relented first and returned to their slumber. The Grifters would keep it up until one of us would shoo them back into the house.
Monkey outlived them all. Doc, Nisha, Boomer, Paulina the Conure, the multiple hens and one rooster named Henry, and, sadly, little sweet Mimi. All have passed, all have crossed the Rainbow Bridge where I hope someday, I’ll go. The final two hens moved to larger and wonderful acreage up north. Only Monkey remains to move to the apartment with us.
And, that presents a whole new set of Monkey-type challenges. There is a dog park, but Monkey hates other dogs. She sniffs around and then is mortified to discover the sniffs belong to, ewww, dogs.
She’s 17 and her bladder and bowel control isn’t quite what it used to be. And, a few years back, she suffered a herniated disc. The surgery went well but her back legs are quite weak and, as a result, she runs with those back legs kind of flopping sideways. So, we rented a ground floor spot with a front door for easy access. The bedroom floors are carpeted, so we’ve collected some washable rugs for protection.
I’ve also purchased doggie diapers which, you won’t be surprised, she hates.
Monkey’s idea of a walk has always been to stroll a few feet, sniff, stop. More stop. Even more stop. So, I’ve purchased a doggie stroller that, I hope, will enable us to walk around the new neighborhood and not have to leave Monkey in the apartment. GB wonders what she’ll sniff while in the stroller? Easy. I’ll pick her, put her down, let her sniff, put her back in the stroller and be on our way.
Because even though Monkey has never shown any inclination to please us, or, for that matter, to even like us, we feel a sense of responsibility towards her. We don’t want to leave her alone because we do know that she is terribly happy to see us when we return. We are greeted with tiny whimpers and a vibrating brown body.
See? She loves us. Just doesn’t like us.
Now, as I mentioned, Monkey never showed any interest in animal or human beings. Except last week. Our dentist wanted to see the garden before we move. She brought her 8-year-old son with her. His name is Linus. He was enamored with Monkey and as he sat on his haunches, Monkey became enamored with him! She licked his nose. She sniffed his ears. She LIKED him. He petted her, stroked her ears and kissed her nose.
Ah, Monkey. There’s hope yet.
Air. 
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