Molly Bids Adieu
We said goodbye to our sweet Miss Molly yesterday. If I ever make it to those pearly gates, I’m going to have a word with someone about the lifespan of dogs. It’s far too short and I’m not sure my heart can take any more holes.
Good Golly Miss Molly Dolly Lama left us just three months shy of her sixteenth birthday. She chased a ball and acted like a puppy right up until her last day.
Her gentle demeanour and big brown eyes won everyone over, and she never lost that wonderful sense of curiosity that kept us on our toes, and often had us laughing.
As a young dog, she had an affinity for socks and underthings. No one escaped her radar, especially visitors. If left alone with open guestroom doors, she’d collect bras and underwear, and proudly display them in the living room for all to see. Returning your guests’ underwear is one of those unique experiences you never imagined, when you brought your furball home.
When she got released from the twelve-step undergarment program, she got hooked on shoes. If we left her alone, she’d gather an oddball collection and keep them safe on the bed. She even managed to carry one of John’s dusty, steel-toed boots, complete with the unopened one-litre water bottle he’d shoved inside, up to the bed in the 5th wheel when we lived in Mexico.
The Cookie Hound
She was a cookie hound, which made her easy to train, and she unabashedly performed rollovers, indiscriminately shook paws, and begged with the best of them for the promise of a treat.
Molly could turn on the cute with a smile and a blink of her lashes, and was happy to show visitors her cookie jar. She’d adopt her most earnest look and gaze between the mark and her cookie jar, which usually shook free a cookie or two.
Other dogs and cats, however, weren’t fooled by the cute factor. They knew if Molly visited them, she would beeline it for their chow, and she enjodidn’t discriminate by brand or species. She’d clean out a budgie’s dish if she could reach it.
But she was also generous, and never minded sharing her own food dish, treats, beds or toys.
She’s the dog who sensed when you were sick or sad, and stayed close to keep you company.
We feel very fortunate to have had Molly’s company for so long. The house feels very empty without her, but we know she’s romping with her sister Soozie now. We imagine she’s having a blast meeting all the other pets and snarfing up an endless supply of tasty treats. Safe travels, little girl.
Take grooming the dog, for example. Molly was due for a clip at Christmas, but with all the company and cooking and such, well, I figured another week or two wouldn’t hurt. She got a brush and a bath and we made it through Christmas.
But eventually, even I couldn’t ignore the whispers of, “You can’t see a thing, can you girl,” and the oft-repeated, “aren’t you a shaggy dog.”
I was all set to post a blog today about what comes after you’ve finished writing your novel, but another ending has taken all the wind out of my sails. It’s the end of an era in our house. Our wee blonde dog, Soozie, aka Pookie, lost her battle with kidney disease yesterday.