Despite the shortage of a lot of things, it astonishes me that we were still able to keep Monki our golden-brown Boxer dog in good shape. Here she is on a walkabout in the forest with Jacqueline and Frans in a sailor's suit. I can’t remember how we acquired the dog, it seemed it was our uncle who took care of him. Monki was a good excuse in any season for many long walks though Mariendaal forest.
We relished in Monki’s playfulness, the way he greeted us with his slobber-mouth. Once he had us scared stiff. Often we took him of his leash, without any trouble, he loved to pick up sticks and pursue the throw aways. A game we all enjoyed. One day however when walking on the high verge of an embankment alongside the railway track, she gave us a heart stopper. A train was approaching and in a flash, Monki went down, chasing it at top speed, close to touching the streamlined body of the speeding express.
Then at a given time, our dog was apparently on the nose, she let a thief disappear with all the clean washing from the clothesline. Not a bite, not even a bark from our pooch, I’m sure that must be the explanation of her sudden departure, she was given marching orders.
Monki turned up in Mum’s hometown where a family acquaintance took care of our out of favour fallen friend. Some tears must have been shed for this abrupt exit. Years later Kees and Frank on a visit to Enschede, met the dog again and it took one sniff to go beserk with joy of recognition. In the meantime a puppy was welcomed, we were falling in love with a young, shorthaired, black-coated Bouvier des Flanders. He had to grow up fast, he was expected to guard and defend the family.