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Our Molly

Molly

~ 

September 21, 1990

December 29, 2008

no better friend than she

A Sad Time Approaching

Our beloved dog, Molly, is breathing her last.  If she makes it through the night I will be surprised and happy.  Why happy?  Because that will mean the vet can take care of her tomorrow.  A professional.  A man with a heart for animals and their owners.  As we watch our old girl struggle with her last breaths we pet her and kiss her and tell her what a great dog she is, has been, always was.  

This morning the king and I rose from our bed to the sound of Molly barking and barking and barking.  The sound was unusual because she has rarely barked these past 6 months, since she has been on the decline.  With her poor vision and poor hearing, she hasn't picked up on the mailman at the front door, the UPS guy, the rabbit running across the lawn.  She stopped spending time watching out the front door when it got cold in October.  

As we came down the stairs I knew immediately something was wrong and saw the kitchen floor.  It was full of vomit, urine and feces.  It looked like she just emptied herself in the middle of the floor and made it to her bed to collapse.  Her neck is arched back and she can't stand or sit.  We called the vet, but it is Sunday.  I half-heartedly expect a call back.  Years ago he took care of a bird we had and that emergency was dealt with on a Sunday.  But these days he has a young family and it is the Christmas season.  We'll see.  

The king sat on the floor with her, stroking her and talking to her.  I cleaned up the mess.  Molly kept breathing heavily, almost gasping for air.  Our hearts were breaking.  It suddenly occurred to me that she needed to calm down.  I found a prescription for sedatives she had from a few months ago and gave her one.  She almost immediately calmed down and her breathing became more regular.  She is lying comfortably in her bed while we wait and watch and give her our love.

The Dog of Christmas Present

poor doggie... The king and the princess were in cahoots and draped the lights around Molly, put the antlers on her head and laughed and laughed.  I approached the scene with a laugh nearly bursting from my lips, but the words that came out were, "Oh, poor Molly!  Why do you torment her?  Get that off of her!  Poor girl!"  Then...  "WAIT!  Let me get the camera!"

She dutifully posed for a slew of shots, after which she was freed from her prison of holiday lights and elastic headgear.

Because I felt guilty I gave her a few treats and let her come with me upstairs to the bedroom for a bit.  

She sniffed around -- probably remembering when she used to sleep up in our room with us -- and promptly peed a RIVER at the foot of the bed!

ARRRRGGGHHHHH!

payback's a bitch.

WHAT TO DO WITH AN OLD DOG

Molly is old. She is 18. She is crooked. She has a 'hang-dog' look about her. I look at her and I see all the years of running and jumping and catching and barking and sleeping. All those years are bundled up inside of her decrepit body and I want to pick her up and squeeze her and say, "Good dog, you are a good dog." But I can't because she doesn't like anyone to touch her too much these days. She wants to be left alone. Just give her treats, a full bowl of food, a full bowl of water and a cushy bed and she is content.

Our vet says she is a trouper. She has Addison's disease now, when the kidneys make too much cortisone. Causes her to have tumors all over her body. She has a few. Not many. It's the one's we can't see that are more troublesome. Molly had a seizure in July. At first I thought she was dreaming but then realized her body was convulsing and she was seizing. When it ended, she shook herself and walked to her water bowl, where she took a good long drink. The next day she was running up the lawn, smelling her way along the sidewalk, all the usual doggie behaviors.

Then she started to have 'accidents' in the house. For a dog that NEVER went in the house, this was unusual. Back to the vet. He said she is old, and the old can become incontinent. Dogs as well as people. They can't help it. Well, I'm glad we have a large tiled eat-in-kitchen and hallway. She is confined to that area now, which is where we spend most all of our time as a family so she always has company.

She had another seizure two days ago. For the rest of the day she slept. When she got up to go outside she looked as if she was listing to the right. Looks like this seizure business is taking it's toll. I don't know. We have no idea if she is having these episodes while we are at work and school. Most likely.

The King put the question out on the table, literally, while we were having dinner last night. "Do you think we should have her put down?" "NO!" was the emotional response from the Queen & her court. We are all praying that she crosses to the Great Dog Park while she sleeps, peacefully escorted by Princess, Mitzi and Shanna - the faithful old dogs of our youth.

Frankly, none of us, adults all, could bear to do such a thing.

Well, maybe the King could. He would be the only one that could. The rest of us couldn't bear it.

But, for now, we enjoy her stares, as she has taken to staring at us while we eat. If she thinks we have a morsel of food, she is by our side. The way she scrounges, one would think she is never fed, but in fact she is fed frequently throughout the day. And treats! Goodness, every time she looks at the king with those old, weepy eyes, he feeds her a treat. You would think she would be roly-poly but is quite thin and almost scrawny looking. She used to be so robust looking. Healthy and vital. Now she is old and tired.

Poor old Molly. Good, good dog.