Life With Molly the Dog

Molly the Dog, ours since Christmas 2013, will be going home today.

Mostly, I am happy for her - and for us. Her new home is a horse farm, where she often goes to play. My friend, Raphael already loves her and she, him. She will be happy and free and beloved: knowing that makes this ache in my heart not as painful as it might be.

Today, I offer some snippets of life with Molly the Dog, as we knew it, culled from my Facebook page:

 

 

It's a good thing I got paid today because Molly the Dog just ate my LAST pair of sandals. I got them last pay day. Since that time, she has devoured my old sandals, a pair of flip-flops and my slippers.

It's no use complaining to Mark because he has told me a dozen times not to leave my shoes all over the place and I have cheerfully agreed and them promptly forgotten.

I hate when he's right.

 

 

 

So, if you were Molly the Dog and managed to snag one of those white things that covers the screws in the base of toilet and you raced downstairs despite your person hollering at you to "Sit, Molly!"...where would you hide it?

 

 

I cracked the back door open to let Molly the Dog outside. She sniffed the air, looked up at me as if to say, "Are you KIDDING me?" and then turned and swished her way back upstairs. I'm pretty sure I heard her "Hmph!" as she settled down.

I DO wish she'd learn to communicate her feelings more clearly...

 

 

Molly the Dog just stalked, killed and ate the BIGGEST house centipede I have ever seen.

Molly the Dog is my new hero and is hereby forgiven for every single status update containing curse words that I've written since bringing her home.

 

 

 

 

 

Molly the Dog did not get to the dog park today. To demonstrate her displeasure, she ate Mark's ball cap, one shoe, a tiny birchwood canoe off my dresser.

Just now, she decimated a roll of paper towel and when I looked over and asked, "What have you DONE?" she farted.

Molly the Dog is a pre-teen boy in a dog's body.

 

During Parent-Teacher interviews, I left a lasagna cooling on the stove.

While we were gone, Molly the Dog ate it. Well, most of it. The rest, she dragged across the kitchen floor, the dining room and the family room.

For dessert, she ate my phone.

Molly the Dog is now in the newly-resurrected crate.

Molly the Dog is grounded.

 

 

 

 

Molly the Dog during a rare, calm moment.
 

Dear Molly the Dog,

I am so mad at you right now, I can't even look at you. Partially, this is my doing for not following through on the "Come!" portion of your TWO rounds of obedience training. I was lulled into complacency, it seems, when vigilance was needed. There talk of electrifying the fence, my girl. And that chain that so terrifies you? Get used to it, until I can figure out how to keep being your owner without losing my mind.
And therein, lies the rub: it goes against your nature to be chained and tied and boxed in. It goes against my heart to be the one who chain and binds you when the beautiful dog that you are only longs to run freely.
I cannot decide if keeping you is selfish, or if offering you a different home where you can roam and run would be...

St. Patrick's Day 2015

Sometimes love means letting go.

 

Steady as you go, Molly the Dog.

 

Remember love.