Monkey

Ten years ago, I went to the SF ACC to adopt a dog. I had had to put my first dog, Pris, an incredible, fearless, brilliant boxador (lab/boxer from Berkeley ACC) down at the age of 12 several months before and though, I could never replace her, I hoped I could make another match half as great.

I've spent my whole life studying animals and I know a fair bit about them. In 1997, when I went into the SF ACC puppy room, I saw several kennels of puppies, some alone and others with siblings and all, except for one, were frolicking and doing normal, healthy puppy stuff. The one that was not was pitiful. He was huddled up against the back wall of his pen as far away as he could get. I knew this puppy had serious problems. He was nearly catatonic with fear and projected to grow to 85 pounds. I lived alone (no extended family for daily doggy support) in an apartment in the city (no farm to run around) and worked full time. This soon-to-be huge (but still crazy) dog was not the right match for my situation. I felt very sorry for him but knew that martyring myself to a big, crazy dog wouldn't be smart.

The facility was busy that day, though and I had to wait awhile for an attendant to answer my questions about the other puppies. Because this was the SF ACC (love you guys!), there was a sign on his cage that said "This puppy needs self-esteem and confidence building ASAP". That emboldened me to step into his kennel and sit against the opposite wall telling him softly that he was a good boy, that everything was going to work out, that he was going to be OK. Over about 15 minutes he imperceptibly glided in my direction (I swear I never saw him move) until he was only about a foot away. Then the attendant came and asked how he could help.

What could I do? Just get up and walk away? Good luck, fella! Sh#t. I was stuck. He had put a little trust in me and now I couldn't just quit him. I adopted that puppy sure I had made the worst mistake of my life (and my intuition is usually pretty accurate) but in this case, I couldn't have been more wrong. I could have never gotten a better match. I named him Monkey (he's really more of an Elliot, poor guy) and he grew to weigh 50 pounds. He is still very shy and reserved with new things and people but oh my God what a PERFECT dog he is. He is a total gentleman, great on leash and off, fierce with tennis balls and driftwood and gentle with my cats and parrots (also rescues). Never done a wrong thing in his life (not that I would mind if he did) and so well behaved that I can (and do) take him everywhere. He's never been sick and he's the sweetest, smartest, bestest boy ever.

After loving my bold Pris so much, I worried that I wouldn't be able to bond with such a timid animal. But I love him every bit as much as I loved her, only different. I was happy to see that my love had such range. Pris was fearless but Monkey has taught me what courage is: it's moving forward even though you're terrified. It's completely different.