I lost my dog, Monty, yesterday to complications arising from
ultimately from nasal adenocarcinoma. Yes, I know this it OT,
though I beg your patience (and understand if you'd prefer the
DELETE key), as Monty, my dog, was also the being I photographed
more than any other, with Maggie, my other dog, coming in
second.
Monty was a good dog, but....
...he was also, in my one-eyed mind, the greatest dog that ever lived;
a giant; a canine archetype crashing across my universe; a jester
of galactic renown; a King of Kings; a mental gymnast and gymnastic
mentalist bar none...but he was also, in the less hyperbolic parts of
my brain, and in the part of me that understands and knows happiness,
just exactly what everyone can be fortunate enough to have in
their lives: a good dog.
Someone called a past dog in their lives a "heart dog", and that
we may have but one "heart-dog" - that archetype to which others,
just as much loved, provide detail and decoration and finetuning
and enhancement, all formed out of the "heart-dog"'s mould even
while carving their own individual path through our mind's sky.
Peter has never owned, or been owned by, a dog before and it goes
without saying that Monty is his. For me, who has owned a dog before
(Goldie, the family dog), there are some elements of guilt towards
that former family pet, because I *know* to my core that Monty was
and is my "heart-dog" too.
He could glide with an inspiring grace across a field, head lifted
high, highstepping the aire, straight into a tree (and then look
astounded and offended that the tree did not have the intelligence
nor good grace to move out of his way). He was the dog that bit other
dogs, and yet would allow a strange Jack Russell Terrier to raise
itself on its backlegs, front legs on Monty's shoulder, to sniff
his face. He was embarrassed by hugs and yet desired to be directly
under your feet at every unexpected opportunity. He was a hard
dog to live with at times, especially while out in public amongst
houndish strangers...and yet nothing rewarding is easy, and my
struggles, arguments, placations, comforts and mind-melds with
him showed me my good and my bad qualities, as I saw his reflected
in mine, and for that I must be grateful, if not always having
wanted to look into that reflection. He trusted me - that is hard
for me to be grateful for, for I rarely felt I deserved that trust
- and that was nectar even when undeserved. He was never anything
I expected, but was always something that I never knew I needed.
He was clown, fool, lord, knight, fighter, mad eejit, sharp, blunt,
roar, laughter, howl, slapstick, melodrama, earthy, pungent, claw,
tooth, clench, buffoon, siege, rescue, child, wise, wiseguy, roar,
gentle, giant, saved, salve, heart, sole, bonded, found, clever,
stellar, galumphing, gravitas, embrace, brazier, burning, warming,
flaming, shining, crazy, diamond...
...friend.
...and I miss him, and now, away from his heat; having touched
my forehead to his so-cold forehead, trying to meld with a mind no
longer there; shaped my palms about those familiar but so-
very-cold curves of his anvilled skull, suede ears, and
sweepingly strong but still flank; as he lay on the stainless
steel bench, and I covered his now-doused eyes with a hospital
blanket...I feel crumpled to dust.
Shine on, Monty.
To at least give you all something photographic, here is a very
small sample of photos - three of Monty, three of Maggie, and one
of them both "unposing" for the camera (all of which my heavily
compartmentalised and bottled-up mind is happy to take any
criticism for):
http://www.parknmeter.com/gallery/main.php?g2_itemId=11
Good boy, Monts! Good boy!
Cheers,
Marc
Sydney, Oz
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