More Than a Dog: Miss Monroe, My Heart on Four Paws

If you ever meet her, you’ll understand instantly: Miss Monroe is no ordinary dog. She’s a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel with more personality than most people I know. She’s emotional, expressive, funny, sensitive—and, frankly, a little bit of a drama queen. And she’s my muse and my heart.

When people talk about their pets, they often say things like “my companion” or “my best friend.” And yes, Miss Monroe is all of that. But she’s also my baby, my shadow, my anchor in stormy waters. She’s the one I turn to when the world feels too loud. Her soft, warm presence has carried me through some of the hardest days, and her antics have made me laugh on days I thought I couldn’t.

We have a routine. We walk together, write together, take breaks to chase butterflies (her idea, not mine), and when I talk out plot twists or dialogue out loud, she listens like she’s taking notes. She’s been with me through creative breakthroughs and writing blocks, and no writing session is ever truly complete without her curled up beside me.

Leaving her for three weeks was one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make lately. Between long hours at work and mounting responsibilities, I knew she’d end up being passed from dogsitter to dogsitter. That kind of back-and-forth would have stressed her out far more than staying in one stable place. So, I made the call: she’s staying with her aunt Sonia and her grandparents in Hessen.

I know she’s being spoiled there—lots of cuddles, sunny naps, treats galore. But not having her by my side? It leaves a quiet ache in my days. There are moments where I look up, expecting to see her head tilt or feel her nudge at my leg, and the absence hits hard.

I miss everything—the way she side-eyes me when I’m working too much, how she insists on sitting in my lap at the most inconvenient times, and even the dramatic sighs when I forget to share my snack. She’s not just part of my life, she’s woven into the rhythm of my everyday.

And yes, she would absolutely adore Leo, the main character in my YA series. She’s always had a thing for tall men—her breeder was tall, and ever since, she’s been drawn to people with a commanding presence. Give her a treat and a scratch behind the ear, and that’s it: I’m forgotten. Traitor.

So here I am, riding an ICE train back to Berlin, trying to squeeze in as much work and writing as possible, while missing her like crazy. But I know this is temporary. In a few weeks, I’ll hear her paws clicking on the floor again, feel that familiar weight as she jumps on the bed, and we’ll fall back into our rhythm like no time has passed at all.

Until then, I carry her in every sentence I write.

Because Miss Monroe isn’t just a dog. She’s my heart, on four little paws.