MONTY
Sophie Gwilym
Woodstock Coffee Shop
70 x 45 cm
When there are no words…
I received the eagerly anticipated text from my friend Anne in Devon during Halloween 2020: ‘The pups have arrived!’ and one little bundle of joy, a male puppy, had been promised to us. I raced home to show Ben, aged 14, and Chloe, aged 11, the photos Anne had sent me. They were unusually speechless, grabbing my phone and staring open mouthed, Chloe with happy tears rolling down her face.
We are a family of four and a WhatsApp feed between us and Anne grew larger and larger as she faithfully recorded the puppies every movement and we devoured her content, watching these tiny, barely alive blind little beings take shape into plump, boisterous, hilarious, wobbly bundles of noise and fur. The whole sense of happy anticipation was in total contrast to the evolving COVID-19 situation as the Delta-wave started to build and take momentum, evoking familiar feelings of dread and impending doom. So, it was with mixed feelings that Steve and I got excited with the children about the puppy, secretly worried that like with so many other planned events this would somehow also be stolen by the virus.
The weeks that followed involved us eagerly planning, shopping and choosing a dog name and generally getting over excited about the new addition to our family – our very first dog. We bought ‘Monty’ home to Woodstock in early December 2020 – a chunky, cheeky bundle of white fur with huge paws. Obviously, our intention was never that he would be a lockdown pup. However, the country was bowled its next curved coronavirus ball and the country once again entered a national lockdown.
Having Monty with us over that Christmas was the best present ever! Teaching him tricks, watching him skid around the kitchen, eat his own tail and attempts to win over evil cat and scared cat filled the house with laughter. His desire to chase and nip dressing gowns was also a good incentive to get dressed each day for reluctant teenagers being home schooled.
We all enjoyed him together so much – reporting back to Anne on his amazing talents, worrying about whether he had eaten too little, too much, slept too little or too much – he helped us bond us all as a family.
Lockdown tails…
January arrived and in that grim winter lockdown – when there was nothing good to say about anything, when zoom fatigue was at its highest, when COVID-19 deaths were increasing again and when working in healthcare was grim and we would come back from work utterly spent from explaining the unexplainable and at times empty of chat. But Monty was there, demanding nothing other than a cuddle or a play and finding smiles when they felt gone. When we were missing our friends and family and desperate to connect but with nothing new to say, Monty was our social crutch. He became a zoom professional, performing for grandparents, nieces and kids’ friends with his laughing face and creating laughing faces in return.
Then something horrible happened. Our gorgeous friend here in Oxfordshire became unwell, very suddenly and very seriously. Our two families combined into a support bubble – us and our friend together with his wife and their son who was also our Godson, Zach aged eight. It was an intense and difficult time, and our friend was admitted to the JR Hospital diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of lung cancer.
He died just three weeks later.
Throughout this time, I cannot now think how we would have managed without Monty. When it would have been impossible to generate the ‘happy’ needed to play, Monty was there. Zach and I would take him out into the field every day, Zach taking his training very seriously (for all of 10 minutes and 400 treats later) and they then would just run together, Zach laughing and Monty laughing back at him. It seemed that in those moments of joy, we could forget about everything that was happening. When the fear, worry and sadness threatened to overwhelm, Monty seemed to sense it and would push up next to Zach on what became the ‘cuddle chair’, resting his head on him and Zach wrapping his arms around and burying his head in Monty – no words needed. It wasn’t just Zach though as all three children were able to play, finding joy and comfort with Monty. The constant bond formed between them was enduring and lasts to this day.
When dealing with the unimaginable and when waiting for the phone to deliver the worst news, to look up and see the children being cheered and comforted by Monty was heart-breaking and heart-warming in equal measures.
Monty is now 18 months old and is a beautifully natured, happy handsome boy and has formed a special, unbreakable and unique bond with us all. Zach comes every week for dedicated Monty time (I would like to think it was my cooking that brings Zach round but he tells me quite clearly it isn’t!).
I chose Woodstock Coffee Shop for the photo as it has been a constant throughout Monty’s life. We were able to socialise him as a little lockdown pup by walking there for our takeaway coffee. It was hugely beneficial for me to have a reason to walk, grab coffee and actually meet and speak to people who naturally start a conversation because of Monty. I have met and had lovely conversations with so many more people in Woodstock through Monty’s introductions and I have learnt that dogs are wonderful at helping you find words when there are initially none to be had.
A bit from Zach about Monty:
‘Monty helped me when my daddy was ill. He kept me company, we played together and we had big cuddles and he is always great fun. When daddy become ill, Monty made me cheerful when I was sad because daddy wasn’t going to get better. Monty is now one of my best friends and when I see him every week, he recognises me as one of his friends. We have lots of fun and cuddles.’
Sophie Gwilym