Running from Gluten: A Tribute to Molly

It's been about a week and a half since Molly left us and I've wanted to share a little more about her story and how she came to be with us. She was an immensely special dog (as all dog-owners know their dogs are), and we are just unbelievably sad that she is gone.

Back in 2007 I was in a dark spot in my life and trying often to buy my way into happiness. This didn't work (obviously) but it dulled the sadness at times. One day I was wandering through the mall shopping for Christmas and walked past the pet store. This was back when they were able to sell animals bigger than gerbils. Let me be clear -- I do not condone, nor have I ever condoned pet shop animals. I know they come from puppy mills and believe me, my pup had her share of medical issues from that history. However, I needed a secret santa gift for a co-worker who was all about his dog, so I thought I'd grab him dog treats or a toy or something (he was really hard to buy for - this was all I had to go on!)
Well, after I had gotten the dog treats, I saw the dogs and there they were all sweet and sad, locked up in glass cases, It just broke my heart. That's when I saw Molly. She was "on sale" because she was getting too big, and she was sleeping underneath her brother. I just couldn't look away from her, and I knew I couldn't leave her there either. Initially when I asked to see her, the man tried to pass me her brother (since he was closest and on top). I made him reach back in for her. I've often wondered what things would have been like if I hadn't made that request and had just taken her brother. As soon as I held her I knew I wasn't giving her back, and I knew her name was Molly.

We went to a side room to do the forms where two things happened. One, she pooped on the floor and ate it -- I started freaking out and trying to pull her away when I noticed her eating her poop and the guy just shrugged his shoulders and said sometimes they do that. Uh yeah, but it's not a habit you encourage! The second was I called my mom and said "so I'm buying a dog" and she said "no you're not" and it went back and forth until she said "your father is going to kill you" and we ended our call. Ominous, right? I knew my dad would be pissed and believe me friends, my dad is Sicilian. He's a scary man (except not to me, so that didn't really work). So about an hour later I walked out with a freshly washed Molly and all of the things I needed for her care. While we drove home she slept in between the seat of the car and the door. She always liked to squeeze herself into tight spaces, right from the start.

I was determined to have Molly be the best friend I'd seen dogs be to other people (most notably, my secret santa work person) and while she liked me alright, the bond wasn't there right away. So I figured, okay, it'll take some time.
I called my dad at work to tell him I'd bought a dog. I thought it best if he blew his top at work -- I'm literally dying of laughter remembering this! Guys -- my dad said "What?!" a bunch of times, and then "unbelievable" and hung up on me. I'm pretty sure my dad has never hung up on anyone in his life but he hung up on me. When he came home from work I tried to show him Molly, but he wouldn't look (or talk) to either of us. I was starting to think we might both need to live in her crate.

The next morning Molly woke me up around 6 and I trudged downstairs to take her outside. Side note: She tried to eat her poop, I pulled her away, she never tried it again. Not exactly a hard habit to break.
My dad was already up and saw his formerly "sleeping-till-noon" daughter awake and outside at 6am. I took Molly back upstairs and went back to sleep. At 8am I was woken up again, this time by a scraping sound outside. My dad was shoveling the deck. Weird since we didn't use the backyard much in the winter. When I came back down to take Molly out again he told me to use the deck (he spoke!) and he totally snuck a peek at Molly.
If you can imagine this sweet little teddy-bear faced golden in her little pink sweater ... well you can see where this is going. By the end of the afternoon, he was all about her. So later that evening we were sitting with Molly and she started to pace in circles, which was her signal for poop. We both rushed to get her to the door and somehow she must have pooped in the air and my dad stepped in it. He stepped in it and he looked down and started laughing. That's when I knew it was over. That's also when I knew she wasn't really my dog anymore.

Molly became my dad's best friend. She 1000% lived up to the whole "man's best friend" theory. When I moved out, it wasn't even a question that I'd be leaving her behind. If I'd taken her I would have broken both their hearts. When he left for work, she'd lay by the door looking sad.
When he went to Italy to visit family, he'd call and ask to be put on speakerphone to talk to Molly (forget about us, we understood he was away, She needed reassurance that he'd be back).
Whenever she was sick, he'd stay up all night with her and make sure she was okay.
They had an unbreakable bond that I've never begrudged them because even though I was looking for my new sidekick dog, I think watching their bond made me even happier and helped me out of that dark cloud I was under.

The crate life lasted maybe 5 months?

She only liked battered tennis balls, not new ones

Scouting out the next snow drift to jump into

I can almost forget how the story ends if I stop here, but unfortunately it doesn't work that way.

On May 25th my dad called me while I was at the autobody shop waiting for husband to pick me up. He told me he'd taken Molly to the vet for her annual check-up and also because after chasing a rabbit he thought she hurt her leg.
He said they found fluid in her chest and were going to run some tests. It could be cancer. So here I am, at the autobody shop, crying like a baby and trying to come to terms with this news. Thank goodness the owner wasn't in the room at the time. I went to the washroom after the call and tried to clean up, but I'm a pretty bad crier and I get all puffy and red so it takes some time to go away. I swear to you, this man looked at me and actually recoiled a bit (not in a mean way, just in a wtf happened to you in the 10 minutes I was gone kind of way). Needless to say, I didn't pick the car up when it was ready. Husband did.

Anyways, Molly had an ultrasound on her chest on May 30th because the blood tests had been fine. That's when we found out she had heart cancer. They told my dad she had 1-2 weeks to live and asked if he wanted to just put her to sleep right then and there.
Are you joking?!
So we decided to keep going as long as she was comfortable and still eating/pooping regularly. My dad was giving her this insanely expensive organic, paleo, grain free dog food, mixed with meat and natural medications to keep her comfortable and for awhile she was slower, but mostly normal. Of course, eventually the cancer became too much and she slowed down, she stopped eating much and her stools weren't solid at all. So my dad said it was time. They had planned to do it Wednesday (Aug. 9), but my dad called me the Monday night and told me that she was just struggling too much and he couldn't make her wait any longer. He'd be taking her Tuesday morning and I needed to come over and say goodbye. So I went, I cried, I hugged and kissed her over and over and said my goodbyes. I called my parents the next day and asked if it had been done and they told me she had passed that morning around 1am at home. My mom noticed that her breathing had stopped and woke up my dad.

She still had a pulse and heartbeat and my dad held onto her till the very end. I'm positive she held on until he was there, to have her last moments with him.

So needless to say, it's been tough. She almost made it to her 10th birthday, which would have been October 18th. She was far too young to go, and had left a huge Molly-shaped hole in all of our hearts.

She was never really mine, but she loved so big that we all felt like hers. She was one of the best decisions I've ever made.