I read a livejournal entry today that made me happy, nostalgic and angry all at once. Rather than respond there, mostly because the things I want to say are longer than I like to make my responses and also to minimize the likelihood of sanctimonious backlash, I'm going to reminisce here.

Back a couple of years ago now, I was about to graduate from college. My relationship with Joseph was stable and there was a long-standing offer from my father and stepmother for a Scottish terrier puppy if I ever decided I wanted one. Joseph and I talked it over, addressed their concerns, made sure we were ready, and I asked for one. He was my graduation present.

Joseph and I visited to pick out the puppy. We were both leaning toward one, but I vacillated. Joseph was more firm, so we chose him. I named him Monty, a compromise of sorts since Joseph wanted to name him Scotty (after Mr. Scott from Star Trek). Scotty's first name was Montgomery, and I'm also a big Monty Python and Simpson's fan, so Monty seemed like the natural name for him.

Monty is my first dog.

Joseph and I put a lot of effort into trying to raise him right; that is to say, Joseph put a lot of work in and I tried, but was often paralyzed by indecision and fear of doing the wrong thing. But in the end he ended up the sweetest dog I've ever had the pleasure of sharing time with. My bond with him was instant and enduring.

He doesn't bark much. Since puppyhood he's destroyed almost none of my or my house-/roommates' things. He likes to play, and can be pushy, but is usually satisfied with five or 10 minutes of concentrated play before lazing contentedly on some piece of furniture. He's very excitable when I come home, and always has been. When Joseph and I were together, he was similarly excitable around him. He liked us both a lot, it would seem.

When Joseph and I broke up for a time when I lived in California, I moved to a different part of town. I knew few people, and those I did lived an impractical distance away. I was emotionally distraught and geographically distant from any emotional support. Consequently, Monty filled that void. His love was unconditional, his tail-wag unfeigned. He liked to walk and liked to play, and liked to be lazy, too. When I was busy or sitting at the computer, he would lie curled up contentedly under my legs for hours.

It was during that time that I most came to appreciate Monty, and to bear the responsibility of caring for him almost exclusively myself -- the time-honored tale of a boy and his dog, only about 20 years later in life for me.

But I knew how special he was to Joseph, too. When he and I reestablished relations, I always made sure to bring Monty with me to see him. And Joseph was always delighted to see him, too. Playing with Monty was a bonding experience that always brought us closer, this puppy brought up in our household.

Eventually, Joseph decided he wanted a Scottie of his own, so we visited my dad and stepmother in Phoenix, and we picked out a puppy that would be Joseph's; a younger brother of Monty who we also would raise together.

Unfortunately, around this time, our relationship started to fall apart again, as did my professional life. Lacking a job, I was a stay-at-home dad to Crichton (Joseph's new puppy) and also to Monty. Crichton generally made more noise than Monty and was more apt to get into trouble, but was no less sweet or loveable. If anything, he was more eager to please and more energetic.

Joseph and Crichton never bonded the way Joseph and Monty did, which caused difficulty when our eventually final breakup came. Joseph strongly suggested that I should take Crichton and leave Monty for him. I did consider it briefly.

In the end, though, I realized how attached I was to the little overbred pile of black fur. I thought back to our time apart and thought how much Monty had meant to me then. I knew that Crichton was a good dog who, too, loved both Joseph and me and who would, in the absence of Monty and me, bond with Joseph in the way that Crichton and I had started to bond while I was home all the time. Had it been clear that Monty didn't like me, or that he clearly favored Joseph, I may have chosen differently.

But Monty is my first dog. And he likes me!

For a time after I moved, it did seem from reports that Crichton and Joseph were getting along well, although his care, it's my understanding, almost always fell to Charles, Joseph's ex and new roommate. But it was clear to me that Joseph still felt bitterness about me taking Monty. He looked at Crichton as the emblem of his failure, I think, to keep Monty there. He certainly treated Crichton well enough and with sufficient care, but it seems to me he never showed him the same love he showed Monty.

Eventually, he had to leave his apartment for a new one that would not accept pets and he took me up on my offer to take Crichton from him if that need ever arose. We had a good visit. I was pleased to see Crichton in such good health, but dismayed that he seemed to be almost permanently locked in some small area, be it the patio or a bathroom or a kennel. When Joseph wasn't around, which was a large part of the time, seemingly, Crichton had to be put away so he wouldn't damage things.

It became, I feel, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Terriers have a lot of energy and need a lot of playtime and attention. When they don't get it, they misbehave. It seems that the more he misbehaved, the more he was restrained. The more he was restrained, the more he misbehaved. And Joseph had a new and budding social life. Even had he stayed in that apartment, I doubt Joseph would have wanted to keep Crichton much longer.

Since I brought Crichton back to Phoenix, Joseph hasn't once asked after him. For the short time I had him, Crichton and I bonded anew. His behavior improved significantly after a couple of weeks. He enjoyed having Monty to play with and a back yard to play in at all times of the day.

I'm much better at caring for dogs now. And I'm glad I kept Monty; every day, I look at him and experience a sense of awe and wonder that such a wonderful beast should be entrusted to my care, and that I seem to be up to the task.

He's my first dog and I love him. We have a lot of good memories, even in just two years. And bad luck to anyone who tries to take him from me.