In 1996, a friend at work, named LoAnn, came to me with a mitt full of pictures of a very cute sheltie mix named Molly. "Want a dog?" she asked, knowing what a sucker I am for pooches. I complained that I already had two, but she told me that Molly had been saved from an abusive situation, but the lady who rescued her couldn't keep her permanently. Well, I guess you know the rest. A couple of days later, little Molly came to live with my partner, our son, and me.
She liked to sleep with Joe. From the start, she was a sensitive girl, the first one to sit at your side if you were sad or not feeling well. She never got over her distrust of men, but in our home she quickly became a happy, smiling girl.
Five years later, my partner and I split up, and I was the only one able to take the three dogs, Daisy, Alex and Molly. I was not as close to Molly then as to the other two. But, in the eight years she spent with just me, I grew to love her tremendously. She had a regal bearing, and would perch on the easy chair that she claimed from the moment we moved in, and survey her realm.
Each day, when I arrived home from work, she would run and get a toy and dance around in joyful greeting. At night, she always curled up on the bed with me. A sweet, calm presence.
In the past few days, though, she wouldn't eat, unless it was my food, and then not at all. I called the vet this morning to have her seen tonight after work. But oh...when I got home this evening, she was in her little bed as usual, but she was still. I cried. I will miss her so very very much. It has only been eight months since I had to have Alex put down, and our little family has gone from four to just two--Bosco and me.
She will be missed so much. I am just crying and crying, even as I write this. I hope that Sundance, Daisy and Alex will welcome her to the Rainbow Bridge. Our pretty little Queen. Our house won't be the same at all without her.