Gluttony oh Gluttony...

This pile of presents belongs to my father. Each member of the family had a similar pile though I'd say some had even more (like the kids, who are no longer kids, but young adults). Every year it amazes me. Every year I walk away with glorious gifts and I am grateful and only a little bit guilty, though I feel bad that I am not as guilty as I think I should be. I know I am lucky -- to have a family as generous and loving as the one I have, to have the things I need in life along with the things I want -- but still, sitting in the living room looking at the pile of gifts surrounding us, making it impossible for us to move without stepping on someone's beautifully wrapped gift is a bit overwhelming.

Of course, it didn't help that we also had four dogs in the room. Three little ones and then Monty, the cross-eyed standard poodle who came with us from Seattle to Portland to share in the holiday spirit at my brother's house. Monty was the giant among the canines this Christmas.

He was also a hit with the family. Not only is Monty a gentleman, he is adorable in his sheepskin and curls. Soft and silky, he wandered through the house (over the presents and the little dogs) with delicate steps and then, when it was time to play, he pounced and romped, mouthing the smaller dogs with a tender mouth, swatting at them softly with his club of a paw.

Monty's mom is off visiting her grandmother in Germany. We agreed to take care of Monty because the original dogsitters have three dogs of their own, a small condo, and a human member of the family, R., with a severed patella tendon...yes, severed. Taking Monty, though, is no hardship. He is an easy keeper, though we did learn more about him on this trip.

First, Monty hates car rides. While he got into the car for us once, he soon realized that the drive from Seattle to Portland was a "journey" and he thereafter refused to "leap" into the spacious backseat. Ann and I were left to hoist (and I do mean hoist) him into the car at every rest stop, which was never very pleasant since the rain came down relentlessly throughout our travels. Blech!

Next, we learned that Monty is a tempermental eater. We knew he needed special bowls (they had to be plastic, not metal) for his meals, but we never realized he also needed extra love during meal times. I sat with him during breakfast and dinner and occassionally hand fed him. For two days he barely ate and then once he grew more comfortable with his surroundings and the other dogs, he devoured his own food probably more out of hunger than anything else.

Next, we learned that Monty never met a dog (or person for that matter) that he didn't like or didn't assume to be his friend. Three other dogs -- Hope, Ringo, and Lil' Bill -- each had different social skills, but Monty handled each with the same tenderness and kindness no matter what teeth were showing or what growls were heard. At rest areas, Monty ran to each person who stepped out of their car as if they'd driven all that way to see just him.

Next, Monty can sleep. He crashes and will sleep for hours, never rising until he is certain everyone else is up. Last night, our final night with him, we let him sleep on the bed. First, he's a monster -- about 80 pounds, but more than that, his big. He slept right in the middle of the bed and as the night progressed, he melted out like butter or perhaps heavy cream would be a better description since he seemed to gain about 10 pounds with every inch he spread. Still, I didn't have the heart to push him off the bed even though my legs where hanging off the side and my arms had to rest above my head. I have a backache this morning and Ann says her neck is crooked a bit, but still, it was worth it.

Lastly, we learned that Monty is good medicine for remembering our dear old Chester. Since this was our first Christmas without Chester, it was great to have Monty with us to ease the pain of our loss. Driving back yesterday afternoon, there were times when I'd look in the rearview mirror and think that Chester was in the back seat. It was just a split second of memory and then I'd see the mop of Monty's hair over his eyes and his tongue panting with his anxiety and remember that Chester was somewhere else and no longer in our car, though still very much in our hearts.

Monty goes back home tonight. His mom flies in around 9 and we'll drop him off at his condo with a big bow on round his big neck and a special message from us. It will be hard to give him back, but we are very thankful for the gift of his presence this holiday. Now that's the kind of Christmas gluttony I can handle!