Birthday: November 30th 2000 Likes: He really, REALLY, likes the couch. He likes to snuggle with any available warm body, a complete love slut! Pet-Peeves: Being told "NO" - he takes this word sooooo personally! Favorite Toy: Hmmm....he is not really into toys, but since receiving 'couch privilages' he loves being curled up on the couch. Favorite Food: We feed aPrey Model Raw Diet Favorite Walk: 1. A jog around the island, where we live 2. A walk to a cafe and soaking up the atmosphere (He loves wearing my sweatshirt on cold days. Pits are funny that way: they love to wear clothes!) Best Tricks: High 5, Back Up, "Shamu", Wait, Come, Down, Roll Over, Turn Around, Stay, Heel, Find It, but his English comprehension is really high, too. We have to be careful what we say sometimes. Arrival Story: We volunteered to be a foster family to house dogs left behind during Katrina Hurricane's "wake". Because the Katrina Hurricane resulted in thousands of stray Pit Bulls, foster families with Pit Bull experience were needed. (Please read our diary for more details.) We waited 3 months to see if his family could be found before deciding we would join the 'failed foster family' club. Bio: He was rescued after Katrina hit the gulf coast. We don't know from where, but assume he was found in NOLA. He WAS about 10-15 lbs underweight and currently weighs 65 lbs. He is a GREAT dog, a lover, not a fighter. He is great with other dogs (completely non reactive) and would like to do nothing more than hang out with people getting belly rubs and hugs. You can find us here: Pit Bull Place. Tell'um Monte sent ya! Forums Motto: Anyone want to give me a belly rub? The Groups I'm In: +++Hurricane Katrina/Rita Survivors and Rescuers+++, BARF or Raw feeders, dog tricks 101 I've Been On Dogster Since:
I've realized that Monte and I share a life of our own. A life filled with little winks, inside jokes, and subtle forms of communication usually reserved for married folks who no longer feel the need to use words to communicate because every gesture, glance, or grunt contains years of memories and meanings.
I realized this when he shot me a look that said "Did you see that rude lady?" as we paused at a stoplight a couple of months ago. We made eye contact. He snorted and then looked out the car window at her again. Then light changed to green, so we went back to our own thoughts.
The woman was berating her child on a street corner, so it wasn't surprising to me that he viewed her actions as rude. He has impeccable manners (as I'm sure you know by now). It just felt strange that he wanted me to know and to share that moment with me.
Is this intimacy?
I wonder.
Monte is "Wintering" with my parents in San Diego at the moment. So lacking these shared moments has created an emptiness in my heart and in my life. I especially feel the lack of his gaze as I cook in the evening. Usually he sits a little behind me in the kitchen. I let him smell the various veggies going into the dishes, as I know he won't eat them.
It is funny to hear the snort of disappointment after smelling the 'people food' ingredients. Yes, it is the same snort Monte gave the rude woman on the street corner. Disapproving, disappointed, frustrated, however you'd chose to name it, the emotion is very clear: "Why on God's green earth would you do that????".
It is now clear to me that our communication has become a dialogue. Somewhere between us there is a language as detailed and complete as the language shared between an 80 year old couple. Grumpy at times, yes, but it is as respectful as any relationship that is... forever.
The SF Bay Bridge had suffered a monumental injury requiring a week of repairs, so our commute from SF to Berkeley went from 15 minutes to 90. ( Bridge Info )
It was an eye opening experience, to say the least.
Our day began with the issue of convincing the bus driver that they LEGALLY must let Monte on, regardless of his breed, if he is wearing a muzzle. Some bus drivers glared "Just WHAT do you think you're bringing onto MY bus?", some pretended he didn't exist ("If I don't acknowledge the dog he doesn't exist, right?"), and some tried to be intimidating "That's a service dog, right?" as if we had no rights under the law.
Mama always said "Just act like you know what you are doing and no one will question that you don't."
She'd never met SF Bus drivers, especially those driving the 108!
But that was just the beginning.
After the bus, there was the gauntlet from the station to BART. Weaving in and out of suited pedestrians to rush down a flight of stairs to meet our train, we ignored the wide eyed stares and boldly 'minded the gap' by leaping onto the train.
Yep, we have "arrived". Protect yourselves people, the Montebeast is on board.
Oops...we just ran into the Librarian who directs the Paws to Read program. She knows Monte. Damn, now everyone on the whole train KNOWS he is a sweetie.
Oops...that little kid who grabbed Monte's face to sneak a kiss, before his Mom or I could stop him, answered the crowd's questions. Yup, he is safe beyond safe.
Oops...that 300lb Black guy who looks like he could be a Raider's linebacker is now talking "baby talk" to the beastie.
Sigh.
Monte. For one moment couldn't you PLEASE be a badass?
No, that 's not his style.
As I was watching the 55 ish metal worker gush, the single mom who was on the bus at 7am and at 10pm with her 4 year old in tow, the obese boy with a love for Pit Bulls, and the dreadlocked woman peaking at my beast, I realized how much THESE people needed a Therapy Dog.
He was the light of their day, that boy of mine.
The tentative scratches and creeping fingers said it all.
You should have been there! Every bus and every train should have a dog like mine. It was a great experience to see how he turned a miserable 90 minutes into a love festival.
So for 3 hours a day he was where he wanted to be...right in the middle of it all. And he was a good boy.
