Unwilling but Able

I thought 2012 was going to be all about new beginnings, but as life would have it- my plan isn't in control.  Instead, you have to roll with it even when it out right just stinks.  In just two short days my family and I have to put my long time consoler, snuggle buddy, hiking partner, and without a doubt best comforter to sleep.  We've apparently done this before, but I was four, and upon being told I simply asked in response, "what's for dinner?"

This time was different.

I don't know, I was taken by complete surprise- but I think that is only because I never chose to see her as anything else other than an eager and intrigued little puppy- event at 15.  So I still can't understand or rather don't want to.  I can only think instead these next two days will be some of the best and flood my memory with the ways she's made me smile for the last fifteen years. 

We picked her up just when I was a little kid, so essentially we've grown up together and I can't think of a moment she's missed out on simply because we took her everywhere.  She was the only chocolate out of the entire litter- born a Rokisky- must have been why I grabbed her.  I was so excited, I wrote about picking her up in my first grade homeroom journal the very next morning- I wrote verbatim, "She's so AWSOM, she runs everywhere and hits the wall when she can't slow down like me!"  oh geez.   

Turns out, even as we both aged we became more and more like one another.  For instance, we  both looooooove the fireplace, laying in the hottest spot by the sun, being outside as long as possible, lying under the Christmas tree lights, protecting those closest, and chasing a ball (mine a softball) for hours. 

She's in all our family Christmas stories that get told year after year again as if they're being told for the first time.  I listen with enthused anticipation knowing the outcome as told by my Dad early but I have to say, I apologize to any of our guests who are stuck as polite listeners.  Like father, like daughter I'll attempt to repeat the ways she's driven us crazy and given us the gift to look back on those same times with dying laughter.  

For instance, Sunday mornings were never a specialty in the Rokisky house hold and were never improved with the addition of a rambunctious puppy to add to the mix.  Montana must have gotten sick the night before and consequently did a number on our patterned house rugs throughout the house.  I say patterned because we couldn't differentiate between the mess and actual carpet design.  However, dressed and ready to go (or rather run out the house to make it by Father's homily) we found Montana cowered away in the corner under our furniture stand.... looking guilty as all.  The smell was enough, we didn't need to find her to know.  My brother and Dad went on, leaving my Mom and I to do the dirty business.  Getting on our hands and knees to scrub whatever the unrecognizable mess was on the carpet involved a very upset mother and a queazy stomach myself.  Thinking we got the best of it, we headed to Church, but with silence in the car.  Running in... late... we found a spot in the pew next to a lovely couple and a family of six behind us.  Then as Catholics do we began the aerobic exercise of up and down between kneeling and standing.  However in between the movements I began to smell wafts of a similar scent from before.  Then I did it.  I told Mom she stinked.  In panic, she began to search herself, twirling her skirt bottom up,down, back and forth.  And there it was.  A pile of #### sitting on the edge of her hem and upon further discovery, my shoes too.  I've never seen a look of humiliation, furry, and rage all at the same time, but my Mother framed it perfectly.  She grabbed my hand and out of Church we went.  But what's left with me is the image of those poor people beside us and the fact that neither my Mom or I can help but burst out in laughter thinking of the two of us sitting beside one another covered in Montana's surprise... in Church of all places.  She got us good.  : )  

So then it doesn't surprise me the least bit to think of the time I thought Virginia Tech would be without our most prized Hokie Bird.  It was my high school graduation and astonishingly, my Dad had arranged for the Hokie Bird to make a surprise appearance.  I was elated, Montana felt otherwise.  She couldn't understand what this strange figure was doing on her property and became hysterical as I hugged and posed for pictures with such an animal.  Her reaction: to bite his tail feathers! She followed the Hokie Bird wherever he went, gnawing on his feathers and pouncing them as they swayed back and forth.  She just wouldn't have it and I thought we were doomed for our season opener.  All went on, but I laugh to myself knowing somewhere on gameday is the suit with a bitten tail feather and a piece of Montana on it.  

Which leads me to Montana: The Fearless Protector and the time a young man broke into our house.  You always call dogs the protector of the house and make silly comments when a guest arrives unwelcomed at first to your house by your dog, but I can say Montana fully proved herself and just what she would do for my family in a time of need.  The guy broke in through our side door already distraught and running on pure adrenaline as we found out later he had already held a lady at gunpoint to steal her car which he wrecked on the side of the road and escaped to search for another at our house.  When we later found Montana she was shaking and timid to even move- I could tell he had hit her, possibly kicked her hard in fear that her barking would alarm the rest of us thankfully not there.  This infuriated me and left me heartbroken for her far more than broken garage door or stolen car.  But she without a doubt did her part and warded him off before he could do anymore.  That's my dog, that's my grizzly bear, Montana.

On a funnier note, she would and still sometimes chases her tail.  It begins slow as if she is seeing it for the first time, then ends in a vicious circle of her trying desperately to catch it.  I used to think she must have something wrong with her, but now I see she was doing it to make me laugh.  For the more I'd laugh, the more she'd run.  I've taught her to shake my hand, bring me back my softballs, lay underneath the hammock while I slept, swim in the pool, and my favorite- dance.  A true member of the family I'll miss more than anything being greeted by her overly excited greeting when I arrive home- think about it, who else ever greets you like that?  She's never mad, but can sense in an instance when you're sad and just need something soft to hold.  She's the first to chase any unwelcomed visitors and then bark out of worry that you're drowning while swimming in the pool so she jumps in to "save" you.  She runs ahead on hikes and then looks back to make sure you're still there.  She stands by the car when you're packing to leave just so she isn't left behind and she'll never give up on catching water from the water hose before you become too bored.  She's a girl's best friend too, an AWSOM puppy, and more than enough for me to have had.  

It's snowing here; I'm glad she gets one last one- I can tell that it's her favorite too.