Never in my life was there a living being so 100% devoted to me. That was my Molly-Moo. She thought the sun rose and set over me. It was like that from the very beginning.
I never had a dog of my own before. We had family dogs that I absolutely loved. The thought of having a dog of my own seemed kind of daunting. It was another layer of complexity if I had to travel somewhere and I couldn't bring a dog with me. I had to make sure I was never gone for too long without hiring a dog walker or have a neighbor come over to let the dog out.
I had a friend who was very involved with a dog rescue. She suggested that I foster a dog to see if it's something I would want to pursue. This rescue was no joke. They check references, they did a house check, and they decided I would be a suitable foster.
First came Laurel. Laurel was a 3-year old black lab that still had a LOT of puppy in her. She was a great dog. She was just a lot. And she had a prey drive towards cats, which they did not tell me about until she was already en route to my house. What the fuck? They asked if.I could keep my kitties, Resi and Dieter, in a separate room until she was adopted. Well, yes, I suppose I could but the kitties are not going to be happy. They are by far at the top of the totem pole in my house. They make the rules. I hated them not having reign of their kingdom. But Laurel came and she was the Tasmanian Devil. There is a story of Miss Laurel escaping from my backyard and me and Laurel being brought back to my house in a police car.
After a couple of days the rescue said that there was a wonderful applicant that is interested in adopting Laurel! Yay! I talked to the applicant on the phone and she seemed great. She was in Greensboro, NC and had a huge yard and two other Labs. This seemed perfect! Lots of space to run and she had two buddies to play with. "When can you pick her up?" She came that weekend with the rest of her family. They were in love with Laurel and off they went. Her name is now Penelope.
My house looked like a tornado had gone through it. I just lied down on my couch for a while and stared at the ceiling and reflected on what had just happened. I was so excited to have my house back and so were Resi and Dieter. I called the Rescue and I said if I'm going to continue to foster, the dog needs to be lower energy (since I was gone all day) and be cat tested and approved. OK. That shouldn't be a problem. I then got a call that I was going to foster Molly.
I went to an agreed upon meeting place to pick Molly up. She had been in Maryland at a boarding facility because they didn't have a foster right away for her until I said I would. She was caravaned down to me in Richmond, VA. I picked her up and she came with absolutely nothing. No leash, no food, no toys and supplies. The people who dropped her off just shrugged. So we went to Pet Co and picked up a few things for her and went home.
As soon as she hopped out of the car, she followed me around with her tongue hanging out. She thought I was the cat's pajamas. You would have never known that she had a history of escaping.
She had been brought to the rescue because a couple down in Charleston, SC said they had a dog that they had been feeding for over a year. They had noticed Molly before and they would try to get her to come in their house but she would run away. So they left food out for her and continued to try to get her to come in. For a whole year. Until they finally enticed her inside. They called the rescue and the rescue suggested setting up a caravan where they would get people to drive her a stretch at a time before handing her off to someone else. The couple said no. Absolutely not. She's too much of a flight risk. They'll drive her themselves. So they drove Molly up to Alexandria, VA. She was set up with a foster. Apparently, one day the foster came home with a bunch of groceries and when opening the front door with loaded arms, Molly bolted. She was gone for a whole week. The rescue had hired professional dog trackers to come up from Texas to help track and capture her. They were getting ready to come up until one day, the rescue gets a call from a man. He had been walking his own dog and Molly approached them. She had a collar on with the rescue's information in it, so he called.
She then had been adopted by an 80-year old woman, who decided to give her up after a. year because Molly didn't get along with her best friend's dog. What? That's when she was put in a boarding facility and that's when I step in.
She followed me around absolutely everywhere. I took her with me wherever she was allowed to go. I took her to vet appointments where it was discovered she had a heart murmur. So we made an appointment with a doggie cardiologist. When the vet greeted me and Molly, she took a look at Molly's file real quick. She asked, "So you're the foster mom? You are not Molly's owner?" I shook my head. "Not for long. I see the way she looks at you."
The rescue kept hinting that I should adopt Molly. They thought we were a match made in heaven. I'd post pictures of us out and about town together. I kept asking myself, can I really do this? Can I handle the responsibility? I don't know. The rescue would continue to advertise as Molly being available for adoption. They gave me a deadline. I had to make a decision by the end of the month. Well, the end of the month came. I was still on the fence in my mind. In my heart? Someone had shown an interest in her. I said, "Molly's no longer available." I told the rescue to stop pimping Molly because I was going to adopt her.
I decided to go into training with Molly. Not that she really needed it. I thought it was pretty clear she had a family at some point in her life. She had pretty good house manners. I thought it'd be a good bonding experience and maybe we'd learn a few things. We went through all the class and all the levels. She got her Canine Good Citizen certificate and became a certified Therapy Dog.
A Therapy Dog. During the training, we had gone to senior homes and they ate her up. She had gone through the training and observed therapy visits with hardly a criticism. Until....we went on our first official therapy visit. We decided to go to an elementary school where the kids would read to her (because they didn't feel comfortable reading aloud in class). One boy got in her face and she growled. The therapy leader wrote us up and we had to go see a dog behaviorist to make sure she was fit to be a therapy dog. After hardly a criticism, mind you. The behaviorist said she should retire and she just really wants to spend time with me. So Molly retired before she actually started. It was fine. I should've known it would've been too much for her. And she really did just want to be with me and not share me.
Miss Molly-Moo would often bark at men. Especially men that cast a large shadow. I always wondered if there was something in her history that made her do that. She was clearly trying to protect me. It did get a bit much sometimes. The typical scenario would go as follows: We would be walking and a larger man would walk out of his house and she would immediate start barking. The man would look at her sternly and then look at me. I'd smile sheepishly and say, "You have to excuse her. She likes saying hello to handosme men." To which, the man would inevitablely turn into a pile of mush and start laughing. It was a pretty amazing social experiment. My friend, Lance, would always take exception to this because Molly never once barked at him.
One day, I was walking Molly and she all of a sudden dropped to the ground. She was still conscious but looked up at me so helplessly. "Molly, please don't do this to me." She had been moving slowly for quite a while and getting laser therapy and acupuncture treatments. Her heart murmur was slowly getting bigger. I took her to the Emergency Vet that day. Nothing showed up in her blood work. The cardiologist looked at the results and nothing suggested that it was her heart. It's suspected that she may have had a stroke or there was some block that wasn't allowing messages to go from her back legs to her brain. I didn't want to put her through an MRI at her age and condition. I had conversations with a couple of vets about her quality of life. It was decided it might be time for her to go. I threw her a small party where friends and neighbors came by to give her a pet and all the treats she wanted. I scheduled an in-home euthanasia, my mom flew in, and Molly passed on my porch very peacefully with Resi and Dieter around.
I had just started my new business. I was coming out of my anxiety and depression. As I had mentioned before in a previous post, I'm not a philosophical or particularly spiritual person. But I'd like to think that she saw I was coming out of things on the other side. and she decided her job had been done. People are always asking me if I'm going to get another dog. I'm not there yet. I know Molly would love it if I would rescue another dog and give it a good home. I don't think I'm in a position right now to properly care for a dog, especially when I'm visiting so many other dogs!
I had already decided that I was going to name my business after Molly. As expected, people call me Molly all the time. At least, a couple times a week. I even sometimes find myself call out for her. When I realize what I have done and I feel like a crazy person, I just say, "I miss you!"
Comments