In “Mattie, Milo, and Me: A Memoir,” author Anne Abel invites readers into an intimate exploration of her life’s most poignant moments, navigating the intricacies of relationships and self-discovery. With a graceful prose that captures the essence of human connections, Abel unveils the heartwarming and often tumultuous journey through the lens of her unique experiences. This memoir is a testament to her ability to intertwine personal reflection with universal themes, offering readers a deeply relatable narrative that resonates with the complexities of love, loss, and the enduring power of familial bonds.
As Abel unveils the layers of her life, she skillfully paints a vivid tapestry of memories, inviting readers to share in the laughter, tears, and profound moments that shape her story. “Mattie, Milo, and Me” emerges as a literary testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of embracing one’s own narrative with honesty and vulnerability.
Your journey is truly personal and inspiring on many different levels. What inspired you to write “Mattie, Milo, and Me: A Memoir” and share your personal journey?
One of my inspirations for writing this book was that both Mattie and Milo – each in their own individual ways – changed me and bolstered me and helped me cope with my ongoing depression. I also wanted to write about them because I loved and appreciated each of them in different but very real ways. Low-maintenance Mattie was easy to love and I just adored her for being sweet, loving Mattie. Loving Milo was more of a challenge because he was so difficult initially and required so much more management and a much greater time commitment from me physically and emotionally. But, I learned to calm him down and we spent so much time together working on his behavior, including our daily hikes in the woods to give him a chance to be the energetic, athletic hunter he was meant to be. I came to feel closer and closer to him. I hate walking in the woods. And, I dreaded our morning hour walk – rain or shine, snow or sleet. But, invariably once we began our trek, as I trudged alone one foot after the other while Milo took off to be Milo, when he periodically soared by me on the path as he went from one side of the woods to the other, my heart soared. It was nothing less than exhilarating for me to see my dog be able to be the adventurous, curious, exuberant creature he was meant to be. It meant everything to me to see Milo being Milo; the Milo he wanted to be. These glimpses of him made the hour trek worth every dreadful minute.
Another inspiration for this book was that I told a story at a Moth StorySLAM in NYC about adopting and rehabilitating Milo, and I won. Everyone was so heartened that I had taken a once-rejected dog whom no one wanted, and I had devoted myself to socializing him and eventually falling in love with him. For months afterwards people would come up to me at Moth Slams wanting to know more about Milo and me and my experience with him. So I decided to write a book to answer their questions and more. Some of the things people asked me were whether Milo frightened me and how I overcame that. Yes, he was often terrifying. But, I just put what he needed ahead of my fear. The needs that I saw this book addressing were that every living creature deserves a second or third chance. Also, once you take on a responsibility – adopting an aggressive dog, albeit by accident – it’s important to follow through by acquiring the necessary skills to accomplish what you set out to do.
How did your childhood experiences shape your approach to parenting, particularly in the context of your son’s desire for a dog?
I was determined to be a different kind of parent than the parents I had. My mother and father each attempted to eliminate any individuality that I had. They wanted to shape me in a certain direction that suited their needs but had nothing to do with my interests or inclinations. My mother was harsh, dismissive, and sarcastic with me. My father forbade me to speak at the dinner table and told me he had no interest in what I had to say. “I don’t want to talk to you,” he would say to me on the rare occasions that I tried to speak to him. So, I was determined to show interest in what my children had to say and to encourage them to develop and follow their interests. Joseph wanted a dog almost from the day he was born. I didn’t want a dog, but I wanted to encourage his interest in caring for living creatures. So, I got him every kind of caged and tanked animal he wanted. Shortly before his tenth birthday I read a headline in the paper, “African Hedgehog the Perfect Pet.” When I learned that I was about to buy a porcupine I decided it was time for the dog. In childhood I did not feel liked, loved or welcomed by my parents. I was also determined to let each of my son’s experience those feelings that I had longed for.
Can you elaborate on the emotional journey you went through when you initially resisted getting a dog and then ultimately fell in love with Mattie?
The emotional journey which began with my initial resistance to a dog was colored by optimism. When my son was younger, I was able to distract him successfully with a series of newts, lizards, gerbils, hamsters, etc. This optimism dwindled as my son became older. When I realized on his tenth birthday that the quilled creature we were planning to get had to be handled with rubber gloves, I was resigned to getting a dog. Initially, the puppy we chose was due in six months. I was relieved because that seemed a lifetime away. When the breeder called to say she had a dog we could get that weekend, my heart sank. But, I reluctantly agreed to come out that weekend with my family to meet the dog. My dread increased exponentially each day. On the hour ride to the breeder, I felt despondent at the prospect of coming home with a dog. When the breeder sent us into the kitchen to wait for the dog, Mattie, I was almost comatose with dread. Suddenly a white ball of fluff bound into the room. Without thinking, I found myself dropping to the floor to embrace this exuberant creature. I was in love.
The sudden and tragic death of Mattie must have been devastating. How did you cope with the grief and the return of depression during that time? I ask because so many others going through the same grief can benefit from the tools that you used to help them.
While each person needs to find their own way to cope with grief, I determined that for me that the best path was to find another dog that I could love. This was due in large part to my history of depression. I consulted with my therapist. Even though my sense was that getting another dog quickly would ease my grief, my husband and I were concerned about the emotional impact on our children of replacing Mattie so quickly. We consulted my therapist, and together we decided that the children were old enough to understand the balance between my need for comfort, as I was home alone in the house all day, and the need to show respect for Mattie. I tried to replace Mattie with a dog as close to Mattie’s sweet, gentle characteristics as possible. Instead, I was duped into adopting Milo, who was the opposite of Mattie in every way. The unexpected challenge of socializing this aggressive, out-of-control dog unexpectedly helped me deal with my depression.
Tell us about the decision to keep Milo despite his troubled history. What motivated you to take on the challenge of rehabilitating him with such a difficult past?
Within a few hours after the man from the rescue dropped Milo at our house, Milo began prowling through the house. Whenever a car or truck rumbled down the street, he hurled himself at the front window and began howling. Anyone who walked in our door, including members of the family, were jumped and humped over and over by Milo. When I took him out for a walk – something the man at the rescue said I needed to do often – he lunged at trucks and buses. Once he even pulled me in the street and onto my belly an arm’s length away from a school bus that had come to a rapid stop. When I took him to the dog park he barked and barked and barked at every dog. One woman I had introduced myself to, who had 5 of her own rescues, told me after ten minutes, “There are a lot of dogs at the rescue much more deserving than this one. You should take him back and get another dog.” Four days after we got Milo he bit my 13-year-old son, Josh. Less than a week later he bit my son, Joseph, on the wrist. As I was bandaging his wrist he said, “Mom, I bet they sedated Milo at the rescue before we got there.” Immediately I knew he was right. I was so angry, both at the man at the rescue for duping us and at myself for letting myself be duped. I was so vulnerable when Mattie was killed and sinking deeply into a deep depression that I had felt the need to replace her immediately and I felt I had been hasty. When I realized he had been sedated my immediate response was, “I’m taking this monster back.” But then I pictured myself putting him in my station wagon and driving him the ten easy miles to the rescue. And then I imagined him on the bed of rags in his cage there and I knew I could not do it. Milo did not ask to be born. No one had ever taken the time to try to civilize him. As much as I did not want to do this, and as much as I did not know how to do this, I just could not toss this living creature back into a cage. Like Milo, I had not asked to be born, and like Milo I had been abused. I wanted to help Milo as I wish someone had been able to help me early in my life.
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