A Manhattan Princess

Princess Ella Montrose did not start off her life as a princess but she knew that it was her fate to become one.

She was born on the island of Cozumel where her first owners were oblivious to her true status, they treated her as less than royal, less than a being of any worth, less than a dog. She was beaten, tied up, & left to fester. Befitting her royal blood, part of her remained impervious to this treatment, she bided her time, fully aware that though born of such humble beginnings her true lineage would soon become evident to all.

She chose an auspicious day on which to start her journey home; Christmas Day no less. She broke free of her bonds and set off in heightened anticipation of the gifts that awaited her. She just knew. She chose the exact right moment in which to make her escape. Naturally, as she was simply fulfilling her destiny.

We, three friends - as opposed to three kings - were driving into town, on our way to indulge in an abundant Christmas dinner.

Particularly given the significance of the day, encountering a being in such dire need of love and attention felt all the more poignant. We came across a bedraggled, filthy, little white dog, heading determinedly for the main road, dragging behind her the mangled piece of twine that had been holding her captive. It would have taken peculiarly heartless individuals to have driven on by, abandoning her to her certain fate. She had nearly reached the fast dual carriageway circling the island. Happy Christmas to you.

As we got closer to her, the extent to which her little body was mange & flea ridden became evident. Given the hell hole she had evidently just escaped from, and the treatment she had obviously endured, we were a little wary of approaching her. We expected snarling, frightened defensiveness. She showed nothing but grateful submission, bowing her head and licking my out-held hand. We scooped her up into the footwell of the car, she seemed to sense that we were to be trusted. Which was huge, given the treatment she’d received thus far from humans. The only Christmas fayre we had to offer was half a bottle of warm Gatorade.

She huddled at my feet, despite the filthy, matted fringe almost entirely obscuring her eyes, I could sense a spark within her that, though it had flickered, had not been extinguished. She knew she was safe with us, she knew she had found her way home. She knew her true identity was about to be revealed.

Over the next few months we gently bathed her and tended to her wounds, tempted her with tasty morsels and gradually her regal nature began to make itself known. When still mange ridden, strangers at a distance exclaimed about the gorgeous little white dog only to veer sharply away as they got closer. Nevertheless, she seemed to expect their total adulation. Self esteem was not on her list of issues.

Eventually mange free, she strutted imperiously around the town centre, everyone was instinctively drawn to this regal little white being. Half Maltese, wholly princess. She was adored, received with open arms & love filled hearts by everyone she met. That spark within her lit up the corresponding flame within us all.

After a few years of joyfully romping along the beaches of Cozumel, she & her royal entourage moved on to another island, that of Manhattan, where she soon became known to many loyal subjects. She would ride around in her basket, giving a royal wave, graciously receiving the unwavering devotion of those fortunate enough to make her acquaintance. All fell immediately under her spell, it was impossible not to.

Many years passed, she did indeed live happily ever after, but even charmed princesses must one day take leave of their throne & give us one last royal farewell.

And here we remain, saddened but grateful for the privilege of having got to rescue, know & deeply love & cherish the inimitable Princess Ella Montrose.

Whose spark lives on in us all.