Molly.

Twelve years ago we blindfolded our parents and took them to the humane shelter. We just knew they would want to get us a dog. Ha. Upon arrival I fell in love with a dog named Olivia, who was a Dalmatian. The rest of the clan found a dog named "Six". She couldn't have been more than 6 weeks old. I can vividly remember my dad and I sitting in the corner, in all honesty, pouting because we didn't want her. But majority ruled. And the ones who didn't want her to begin with became the ones whose hearts melted faster than expected.

She was a good puppy. A sweet heart. She was lively and loved to jump on you. I can remember every time I would wash my car while I was in high school she would go absolutely ballistic over the garden hose. Out of happiness, not fear. She loved it. She was full of so much life and had a spirit about her that just radiated. Everyone loved Molly. Our house was the Friday night hang out place after many ball games and Molly always greeted them all with a smile and wagging her tail. She rarely ever barked. That was until 2003.



A little boy named Caden came into this world and she began barking at anyone who would dare come in our home. She'd warm up, but she was so protective of him. She was a mother. We always said she was robbed of her chance at being one. Every year at Easter she got a yellow little chick that chirped. She would nestle them and hold them as they were her own. I don't think any dog would be a better mommy than her.

When I'd come home from college I would have to call my parents as I pulled on our street. Molly got a little "excited" whenever she would see me. So in lieu of cleaning up pee pee stains inside, she met me out front. :) She'd whimper and whine and I loved every second of it. She was my girl, for sure.

She was so sweet. But she surpassed the level of "dog" in 2004. I was home from college on fall break. We had gone to a football game and eaten dinner at CiCi's. (to this day I will still not eat there). It was a late night. My mother, as most of you know, is a diabetic and has been one for her entire life. That night I fell asleep in my room in the basement. My dad was watching tv on the couch down there and fell asleep too. My mom remembers sometime shortly after midnight checking her insulin pump. She tells that she was so tired she wasn't doing it right. She had taken too much and with eating out so late that night, she couldn't get it regulated. She was just so so so tired. And that's the night Molly became a hero. What she did was nothing short of miraculous. And for anyone reading this who doesn't think dogs are capable of love, compassion, and human abilities. I urge you to read on.

She came down to the basement door and barked persistently until my dad woke up downstairs and alerted him to come upstairs. She didn't just bark a few times, she barked hundreds. She would not leave until he woke up and she could show him what he needed to see. My dad woke me up in a panic. I flew up two flights of stairs and the image I saw literally took my breath away. There she was, my mother, completely passed out and unconscious covered in her own vomit. I was not much of a help. I began vomiting myself in the bathroom next door. I was crying and overcome. You're not supposed to find your mother like that. I can remember waking my brother up and having him help my dad. I can still see me on the bathroom floor on my knees praying. I didn't know what to do, but I did all I knew how at that moment. I prayed for a miracle. And we got just that.

When EMS arrived she was still incoherent. She had been given massive amounts of sugar to raise her levels and after much avail, once in the hospital, she woke up. The doctor's made it clear her body was beginning to shut down and had Molly stopped barking and allowed us to continue sleeping, she would not be here today. She was not a dog. She was a hero and there are people in this world whose hearts won't amount to half of what Molly had. That night she became a hero and anything Molly wanted was allowed. She had saved my mother's life.



Over the years the jumps and excitement from her seemed to dwindle. She got arthritis and it was much harder for her to move around. But she still had that precious little spunk. She always smiled. And anytime you'd walk in the door she'd wag that bushy tail. She loved back rubs and anyone who would dote over her and make her feel like the queen that she so was.




The last month or so she took a turn for the worst as we noticed her spending hours on end outside and not coming in, not even being convinced to come in with a leash or a treat. Her last week she had stopped eating. My parents took her in for a check up expecting the worse. The vet said she had lost almost 20 pounds but most of it was muscle. She was going to have to do a lot of therapy, but she said as long as her blood work came back she would be ok. And then the next day happened.

I had actually forgotten all about it. I was so happy the night before that it just seemed like it was the arthritis. I saw my dad was calling me around 3:00 on Thursday. Ady and I were in the backyard playing in the sun. It was the most beautiful day. And then, the darkness loomed in. I didn't think of Molly, but I had a feeling it wasn't good. He said "have you talked to mom in the last few minutes? Molly's not doing well." And then I knew. "...Her levels came back and it appears she has an untreatable liver cancer". The tears started and didn't stop. "....she recommends an ultrasound". As we hung up nothing was said about time or next steps, but I immediately called Joseph in tears and told him we needed to go. I just felt it. I needed to see her. I knew she hadn't been good that day, but I wasn't exactly sure what had happened. Later on, my dad told me that she had been in the bathroom all day laying on the floor, once again refusing to eat, even to drink water. They had tried popsicles too. He lifted her up to put her in the car, she was just so weak she couldn't get up herself. And he said she yelped and cried in so much pain. I didn't realize it was that bad. It happened so very fast. 

Joseph got home early from work and at 5:15 we pulled out of Lexington. I cried the entire way. It just wasn't fair. Not for Molly. She did not deserve this. My mom had texted me and said they were taking her to a Vet Specialist Hospital. At that moment, I didn't really understand why. I didn't realize she was as bad as she was. But, I said we'd meet them there.At 6:15 I pulled in. Molly was back with the doctor. Then, the world came crashing down. And I mean literally.

We were escorted back by a nurse and I knew it couldn't be good by the look on her face. Joseph stayed in the waiting room with Ady and Caden. I was glad they weren't with me. I walked in to find Molly laying flat on her back, with ultrasound gel all over her bottom half. She was still smiling that sweet smile. The vet said "it's not good news." and I burst into tears. I seriously don't think I have ever, ever cried so hard in all my life. It was the ugly, I can't-breathe-my-eyelids-are-swollen-for-2-days-kind of cry. He showed us that she had pancreatitis, which that alone could kill her, but then he showed us several cancer tumors that were the size of baseballs. It had originated in her liver and was spreading fast. I suddenly felt sick at my stomach. I was sobbing, but I needed to sit down. I felt like I was going to pass out. I found a bench behind me and through tears I said, "She's not a dog. She saved my mother's life. She is our family." He knew the story. My dad had told him upon their arrival.

She was in so much pain. He gave us our options. We could stop her from the pain. Or we could hospitalize her and give her the amount of pain medicine she needed to cope, it was too severe to be done on an outpatient basis. Through pain, my parents knew the only reasonable answer. He said it was the best gift we could give her. We owe her everything, so if in doing so would bring her peace and keep her free from pain then we were doing the right thing. But it was not easy. I have never cried so hard. My heart literally ached.

They brought us into a private room and let us have as much time as we needed to say goodbye. She was brought in and laid on a blanket. She licked my face and smiled like she always did. She wagged her tail. She was unusually chipper and happy, just looking around and smiling. She knew she was in good company. We sat for almost 2 hours and just laughed and cried. Laughing through tears, the best emotion. Remembering the sweet moments of Molly and the joy and happiness she brought to us. Austin was working, but his boss let him get off early and he came. Rachel was the last to arrive, and Molly knew. She gave this presence that said "all is ok now". She knew we were all there. From that moment on she didn't lift her head up again. She knew.

It was one of the most beautiful moments I've ever experienced and one of the saddest. It was most definitely a bonding experience as all of us sat around her, on the floor, just trying to savor our last few moments with her. I kept thinking "I just wish she could have met Henry." Ady loves Molly, "Moll Moll", and her memory will be kept alive. Ady will always remember her. She loved her so much. I just with he could have gotten that privilege. 

My dad wanted to pray as a family one more time with her. And that's when it hit me. Not that she would be gone, but the impact she had left. I have never seen my father cry. But that is not what he did. He sobbed. At moments, uncontrollably. There is something about seeing your father cry that just does something to you. And it wasn't just him. Austin did too. And Joseph. He didn't even know Molly in her "prime", yet he loved her as if he had known her his whole life. Sitting in a room of all grown adults, wailing and sobbing, it just does something to you. She was so special.

 

My dad said that it was time, although I know it must have pained him to say it, someone had to. So the vet walked in. I didn't want to be in there. I just didn't think I could handle it. My mom, dad, and Austin wanted to be in there with her. The rest of us walked right outside the door outside and tried to just make sense of all that happened. A few minutes later my dad was the first one to walk out and sobbing he said, "She was so peaceful." The vet had told us earlier when it was just my mom, dad, and I in the ultrasound room what it would be like if we chose to stop her from this pain. He said several things that would be normal to see them do, such as licking their lips, looking around, etc.etc. Molly didn't do any of it. The first thing they gave her was sedation to relax her. My mom said she watched her eyes kind of roll and relax. Then he told them when he was putting in the anesthesia. She said she has never been at more peace. In seconds, he said to them "She's gone." In a way that brought us peace to know that had we not chosen to "stop", she wouldn't have lasted much longer. Her days were numbered and she was in so much pain. She knew we had all gathered to say goodbye to her and she was ready. My parents thanked the vet for being so compassionate, understanding, and never once rushing us. He said, "She was worth it." See, he knew too.

We made it home to my parents and it was just a real eerie feeling. Really sad. I love my boys, Chance and Charlie. And don't misunderstand me, if something like that were to happen to them I would mourn. But Molly, she is on a different level. She exuberated such zest for life and such passion for people. We got her at such a critical point of our childhood that she really was the 4th sibling, or the second mother. There is a hole in my heart that will never be filled by another family pet. She was it. She was as good as it got. My heart hurts. It still does. It's been 2 days and the pain is still so raw. It's difficult for me to talk about it. It was so painful seeing her lay there, as happy as she was, those last few moments. I guess it was just knowing what was about to happen. But I know she knew. 

This has been hard on all of us, you can't even begin to imagine how painful the last 2 days have been. I have moments when I still just sob. It's been exceptionally difficult on my mother. She said, "I owe her my life. And I couldn't even save her." But that was just Molly. She wasn't a complainer. She never even let us know that she was sick until it was just too late. I took this picture and it breaks my heart:

 

Molly loved all of us, but she loved my mom the most. So much that she did whatever she could to keep her alive.

I will miss walking in the door and seeing her wag her tail. I will miss her running out to the yard before we pull out of the driveway and smiling at us. I will miss her laying in the snow in the dead of winter so peacefully. I will miss her laying on the bathroom floor when I walk in in the mornings to brush my teeth. I will miss her at Christmas.






I will miss her everyday for the rest of my life. Molly was there for my greatest moments of joy and for my greatest moments of sadness. I can remember in high school, when I ached and hurt so badly over the loss of someone so special to me; I remember clinging to her. Actually, she ran to me first. She felt my emotion. She was truly the world's greatest dog. 

You see, if you don't get it by now, you won't. Molly was the closest thing to an angel that I do believe I've seen this side of Heaven. I had a few people I told about her in her last few hours. Not everyone gets "dog love", and that makes me sad. But one of my dearest friends said to me "Smoother that sweet girl with your kisses as she goes to sleep. She will never feel so much peace as she will when you do that". A part of me regrets not being in there with her. But knowing how she went makes me at peace. We got some sweet time with her. I was just unable to contain myself and my emotions that I wasn't sure I (or Henry!) could/should witness it.

I can't imagine God not allowing dog lovers to have dogs in Heaven, or an avid bird lover to have birds, or a fisherman to not have fish there. He created them. "All creatures great and small." Maybe you think I'm crazy for thinking this, but I do believe we will see her again. She did more with her short time on this earth than most "people" do in a lifetime. Molly taught me so much, so much. 

She taught me to love people unconditionally, even when they hurt you. She taught me to always greet everyone with a smile, she taught me to never give up on anyone, but more than anything she taught me to love a deep, deep love. It hurts to let go when you love that deep.

Love you Molly. You sweet angel girl. 

My dad took a video of her in her last few minutes. SO precious. Please click on the link and watch it. Cancer may have gotten her, but her memory will live on forever. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QK6_7zBkvfM

"Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole."
    -Roger Caras