This week I met a sweet young lady Pekingese who dreamed of The Show Ring but found her true calling in a very different way. But she can still Strut Her Stuff, buh-lieve me.
Monkey Mead, her Mom, Maryanne, and her Dad, Tom, split their time between Vero Beach and the Upper East Side, right across from Central Park (every pooch’s dream playground).
After the Wag-and-Sniff, Monkey began her story. “I know you Google, so you probly know my breed is one of the oldest in the World. My ancestors came from CHYna. They lived in palaces and hung out with Royalty. My Grandfather Malachy won at Westminster, and his son-in-law, Roger (my Dad), won Best of Breed at Westminster. So, I have Champion Genes, but I’m not snobby or anything.”
“You certainly have the look of a Champion,” I told her sincerely. “You could totally be a show dog.”
“That’s so sweet, Mr. Bonzo, I always dreamed of The Show Ring. But,” she looked up sorta sadly, “I have a crooked tooth so I don’t qualify. Mostly humans don’t notice, but the judges check every teensy thing.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss Monkey.” I changed the subject. “Tell me how you got your unusual name.”
“OK. Mom had always wanted a Peke, so Dad decided to get her one for her Big 6-O. Mom and Dad had seen my brother, Cooper, in a show, and asked the breeder if there were any more like him. There WERE. Cuz of my stoopid tooth, I was available, so they drove up to Pennsylvania to meet me. The minute me and Mom met, we KNEW. Thank Lassie, Mom didn’t give a Flying Frizbee about my tooth. So Mom and Dad took me home to New York City. At first, I didn’t wanna leave the lobby, cuz of all the scary noises and smells and crowds. But now I’m a Big City Girl. My original name was Debutante, cuz my front paws sorta look like long, white gloves, see.” (She held up a paw.) But, come ON. I mean – ME? So Mom renamed me Monkey, after a friend who’s a runway model in England. I like it!”
“Me, too!”
“I love walkin’ in Central Park. Evrybody stops to say ‘Hello, Monkey!’ And, I have a zillion pooch pals. Most of ’em are fren-ly, but some have what I call an Upper East Side Attitude. I can tell who’s in town just by sniffin’ the bushes, like whether that snooty Pomeranian, Fluffy, is back from the Hamptons, or if Clupper is out chasin’ the ladies. He’s a Poodle, French, you know. An I play a game with Mom I like to call ‘Acorns? What Acorns?’ It’s where I stuff acorns in my mouth when she’s not lookin’. But I hafta keep my tongue in so they don’t all fall out, so she eVENchully knows I’m up to something.
“When Dad wears casual clothes and a ballcap instead of a suit on our morning walk, I know it’s Saturday and we’re goin’ to the CARlyle Hotel to get newspapers. Then I’m a Girl on A Mission: I don’t stop to say hi to my pooch pals or to Do My Doodie, cuz my friends Stephanie and Jeff, the Con-see-AIRGE, give me Venison Treats!
“My Mom has her own COMPny: she finances airports! She usta take me to work in my little canvas bag. I’d play with her partners and hadda bed under her desk. We’d walk home or take the bus up Madison Avenue. We went everywhere together.
“One time, Mom had an Important Meeting in a big building way up in the sky. She put me on the floor in my bag. There were a bunch of men in suits at long tables shaped like a rectangle with lotsa space in the middle. It looked like a show ring to me, and all those men looked liked judges. I couldn’t resist. I climbed outta my bag, pranced right out to the center, and did my best show ring strut-and-wiggle all the way around. Everybody started taking pictures with their cellulars. Then I dozed off. Suddenly, two of the men started yelling at each other Real Loud! I jumped up, started barking and wouldn’t quit. Everybody laughed, an the two guys decided to take it out in the hall, where they got all calmed down and came to an uhGREEment. Mom said I saved the Big LaGuardia Airport Project, but she still made me get back in the bag.
“Then something bad happened. Mom got cancer. She hadda take medicine that made her pretty hair fall out, she was always sleepy and sick, an she went to the hospital a lot. I was so scared, but I was determined to help any way I could. So I forgot about show business and started being Mom’s nurse. I stay right by her at all times. If she wakes up at night, my snoring lulls her right back to sleep. I sometimes act silly to make her laugh. Mom calls me her ‘Little Nurse Ratchett.’ But I’m Very Serious about my job. And, I’m really proud that, this month, I’m getting my official Emotional Support Animal certification. Our housekeeper, Antonia, sings to me in Spanish an calls me Princess Monkey. And Dad walks me an makes my dinner.
Mom’s doing better now, so we come down every month, between her treatments. I’m even helping her with a new airport project.
“I visit my pals Coco and Joey at Uncle John and Uncle Caesar’s art gallery on the beach. An I LOVE travelin’. We came down on Elite Airways this time. My Shar-Pei friend, Dixie, also flies Elite, and we both love it. When Mom and Dad take me to the Polo Grill, John, the host, says, ‘Monkey, your table’s ready.’ I always hope Mom orders the Delicious Duck. You should try it, Mr. Bonzo. There’s no feathers or anything.”
I was glad she’d clarified that.
“Mr. Bonzo,” she said, “I’d like to give a Big Woof-Out to all the loyal, loving pooches who provide support and comfort to their humans in difficult situations. I believe that, as dogs, it’s THE most important thing we can do.”
Heading home, I had lotsa things to think about. One of ’em was Duck.
