Interior Monologue

There was once a friendly, fluffy dog named Monkey. Monkey did not know that he was a dog, or that he was named for another animal entirely. Monkey only knew that he was usually quite happy, and safe, and he loved to run and play and be scratched behind his left ear, where he could never seem to properly reach.

Lately, there was a great, crushing sorrow in Monkey’s heart, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He moped about in the yard, and he lay near his favorite chair for a while, and he looked out the window into the vast wood that surrounded the house, chasing the birds and squirrels in his mind’s eye. Nothing would lighten his mood.

There was a lady that lived in the house, and she always gave Monkey delicious treats, and lovely scratches behind his left ear, in the spot that he could never seem to properly reach. She would love him in little ways—in setting his water dish up on a book so he wouldn’t crane his neck to drink, or in setting a big fluffy blanket down near her chair, so he could snuggle and watch her read. She was cheerful and wonderful and always gave him scraps from the table. He loved her dearly.

The lady who lived in the house would put bird feed and great piles of nuts on the back deck, because she liked to watch the birds and squirrels play in the yard, and Monkey liked to chase them. Monkey thought she probably liked to watch him as well, because she always gave him big kisses and belly rubs after he played in the yard.

Monkey noticed that one day, the lady started taking long naps in the afternoons. He didn’t mind, because Monkey was getting old, and he would snooze next to her on the floor while she slept in her big chair.

Soon, the lady began taking naps in the morning, and as time went on, she slept more and more. Monkey worried that she was not well, because she moved very slowly, and she leaned heavily on a great wooden cane.

One day, the man who lived in the house—who was also nice, but who did not give Monkey as many treats or scratches as the lady—helped the lady into a big car and drove away. The man looked very sad, and Monkey noticed for the first time how small the lady had become.

Later, the man came back, but the lady was not with him. Monkey sat by the door and waited. He tried to ask the man to go and bring the lady back, but the man could not understand Monkey. The man just looked sorrowful, and patted Monkey on the head. “Good dog,” said the man.

One day, while the lady was still gone, the man put on his best black suit and left the house. He was gone for a long time, and when he returned, his face was wet, and Monkey could smell grass, and soil. The man was terribly sad, and finally Monkey understood that the lady would not come home.

And so Monkey was sad. He watched as the lady’s things were slowly packed away and moved out of the house. No one put bird feed and great piles of nuts on the back deck, and no one properly scratched behind Monkey’s ears. Nothing smelled the same.

One evening as the man took his meal from the dining room table, Monkey sat patiently behind his chair. The man had never given Monkey scraps from the table, but tonight the man placed Monkey’s food dish next to his chair. And so Monkey began eating his dinner with the man in the evenings, and Monkey thought this was very nice.

One night, as the man sat reading, Monkey pulled his fluffy blanket next to the man’s chair. The man looked down at Monkey and smiled, and reached out his great calloused hand, and scratched Monkey under his chin, and on his fluffy white chest…and behind his left ear, where he could never seem to properly reach. Monkey thought this was very nice.

And so the man and Monkey lived in the house together for a long time. They were kind to each other, and they learned to get along without the lady, and even though they were both terribly sad that the wonderful lady had gone, they loved each other very much.

❤ Babz