When I saw Molly the first day, I melted. A blond, droopy-eared cocker-lab-something-or-other with big brown eyes. She was adorable. We begged our parents to keep her and because we were moving into a new house with a big yard, and lucky for us, they agreed. I was in eighth grade, a tumultuous time for a young tween and the thought of having a new little puppy to occupy my boring summer ahead made me beam. As luck would have it, she was the easiest puppy ever and we were so spoiled as she effortlessly learned the doggy door, never chewed, and learned her manners within a couple of short months. She was a piece of cake. She had a special fondness for me as our other little dog Skeeter loved my sister more than me. So, by default, Molly claimed me. She was ornery and silly, loved to make us laugh. She was always following me everywhere. She would lay on the bath mat when I would shower, and I would have to nudge her to move so I could get out. I think of the thousands of showers over the years…In fact, many times she knocked Angie over trying to get out the door to follow me—determined is probably the best word to describe her. She would stand in the yard and put her nose in the air letting the breeze blow back her ears. Then she would close her eyes and take a deep breath…she experienced life to the fullest and loved every minute of it. At about five, she began having seizures. Big seizures. She would lose all control of her body and would be terrified. We held her and calmed her, but the vet told us the prognosis was not good, yet they couldn’t tell us exactly why the seizures were happening or if medication would help. They told us to make her comfortable and that she wouldn’t live very long due to the seizures. Molly disagreed.
Today, my Molly girl took her last breath and she was seventeen years old. She watched from the window as I went on my first date. She took a picture with me in my graduation cap and gown. She sat by my side when our family fell apart. She nudged and encouraged me when new families began. She gave me the nod when I began to foster sick Boxers for the rescue and through her many eye rolls, she accepted the new task we were given and made it her own. She let me know that Dan was the right guy.
She wagged with glee when I brought home Logan, then Kale. She was a constant. She was the most loyal and selfless companion during the times in my life when I needed it most. I loved that she and I had a little “girls club” in my house full of guys. My hand was on her heart when it peacefully stopped today and I think that's where it's always been. She loved fully. Always. When I brought home her collar a few minutes ago, I heard the little clinking sound in my hand that it made when she would walk, and the sound was unbearable. I will miss her more than these words can describe. I know right now she is running free and happy, eyes closed, head back with her ears blowing in the wind. I can see her now. She is my special little girl and always will be.
