Farewell, My Molly
My little dog and friend of 14 years died late Tuesday night, curled atop her bed.
Despite knowing the day was coming, I find myself unprepared. Molly has been my faithful companion in real life and my ever-present sidekick in my journals, drawings and short movies for as long as she's been alive. Frankly, for someone like me, someone who enjoys people but often prefers being alone, who alternates between silence and effervescence, my dog has been my ballast and my comfort; she has helped to keep me grounded, keep me together.
I've said aloud more than once, "If it all goes to shit, at least I'll still have Molly." In her innocence and joy and silence, she has been a living reminder of what's important in life: being earnest and giving love.
From the day I brought her home, a wiggling handful of black, white and brown, she made my life better. It never hurt that she was no ordinary dog. Her character was as distinct as any person's I've ever met. I've received at least a dozen sympathy notes, flowers and phone calls. Several people cried when they heard the news.
Many Molly stories have been shared amongst my friends, and that's provided laughter and comfort. Some favorites:
- Walking into the yard to find her 10 feet up in the branches of a pine tree.
- Throwing the ball and watching her launch, Superdog style, down three flights of steps without crashing, breaking anything or even missing a beat.
- During the filming of "Barbie's Bidet", we'd catch her sneaking in to lick the chocolate "poop" off of Barbie's plastic ass when we weren't looking.
- Humping the floor, frog-style, on command.
- Her slow, patient, methodical inching to work her way onto your lap. (Even while driving.)
- During potty training, sneaking into Jenny-the-Cat-Owner's room - and only Jenny's room - to leave a deposit beneath her bed.
- Molly standing stock-still in the middle of a room, watching you out of the corner of her eye, then sprinting a figure 8 around you whenever you'd take a step. (Repeat.)
- Her total, quivering, mouth foaming obsession with the Cookie Monster doll. Turn it on and watch her go ballistic while Cookie taunts, "Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Oh boy, oh boy!" Totally surreal.
This was my own first dog. She won over my father - and then never left my side as I grieved his death. She adventured with me on countless journeys - from work to hiking the Anza Borrego. She healed my breakups, was a well of laughter, a genesis for stories and connections, the perfect companion for quiet reflection. She embodied an entire era of my life, a walking warm-blooded talisman for protection and remembrance. How do you say goodbye to that?
I don't know. I do know that I feel deeply grateful for her being a part of my life.
Thank you, Molly. Thank you so much for choosing me.


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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >