Molly Love

All this talk about the dog the Obamas are going to get inspires me to say (again) that I am head over heels in love with my dog, Molly. Molly came to us almost a year ago. The plan was, she would live with us for 3 months until our friends could bring her to their new home in New Zealand. During that time our beloved corgi Georgia died, our friends began to question whether the trip and subsequent quarantine would be too hard on Molly, and we fell in love with her.

Molly is 12. I know she isn't going to be with us for many years. But she has convinced me that, as cute as puppies can be, older dogs can be amazingly rewarding.

And finally, live action footage of what we have to put up with every single time we take Molly in the car, courtesy of Cinderbelle. This was last Christmas, shortly after Molly came to live with us:

Further Bark Park Adventures

This evening found me and Molly at the bark park once again. Mr. Ether is the official Bark Park Guy™, but he was busy making supper. (If you remember, when last I went to the bark park he was painting the bathroom ... I think he's feeling guilty about the Farrah Fawcett affair.) Luckily I thought to bring a camera, because it was a beautiful evening ...
There are two bark parks that we go to. One -- Warner Park -- is next to a big lake and is more of a wetlands habitat. The other -- Sycamore -- is built on an old landfill with a hill in the middle, and it is more of a prairie. Tonight we went to Sycamore, arriving just before sunset. Standing on the top of the hill at sunset, it feels sacred and mysterious: Stonehenge of the Midwest. And then a slobbering bull dog runs up and steals your tennis ball.
I really like Sycamore, even though it is built on a pile of garbage, and is surrounded by the kind of nameless suburban sprawl that I've grown to hate. What's cool about the neighborhood though -- ugly as it is -- is that in the last 5-10 years it had some of the more affordable houses in town. When I used to teach at the school out there, a number of our Hmong families were able to buy houses in the area as they became a little bit better off. And indeed tonight, I noticed a number of Hmong families in the park shelter and on the playground. It was all very peaceful and sweet: the sunset in one direction, the moonrise in the other, sounds of children and dogs playing, crickets chirping ...
And then there was Molly, and her ball. "Boundless Joy" is the phrase that often comes to my mind as I watch Molly at the bark park.
How does she fit that ridiculous tongue back into her mouth?

Bark Park Angel

I had some errands to run this afternoon. They all had to do with Molly, the Official Dog of the Impeachment Movement™ who quite possibly is the most indulged dog in town. When Molly came to us, her diet consisted of 4 different kinds of dog food at each meal. We've whittled it down to 3 (eliminating the one that caused most of the noxious emissions) plus treats. But -- woe was Molly -- we were out of treats and the special "Molly nuggets" that go on top of her food at every meal. Of course, the treats and the nuggets are not available in the same place, so I had to plan my trip well. To be even more efficient I took Molly with me, intending to end the trip at the hallowed grounds of the bark park.

First of all, Molly is dreadful in the car. She is so excited to be going somewhere that she begins barking as soon as she is out of the house and doesn't stop until we arrive at a destination and throw the tennis ball for the first time. She was not pleased that we had to make some stops, even though I explained that they were for her. She was extra hyped up by the time we arrived at the BP. I got her out of the car, reached for the Chuck-it™ (a kind of atlatl that is used for chucking tennis balls) and ... horrors! There was no tennis ball! Too late I remembered that Mr. Ether had told me that Molly had lost her ball in the long grass in the dark on yesterday's BP visit.

Molly was bouncing around me on all fours, barking, "THROWTHEBALLTHROWTHEBALLTHROWTHEBALLNOW!" while I frantically got out my cell phone and dialed the next best thing to 911 -- Mr. Ether. (Mr. Ether was home painting the bathroom, because he's a saint.) "In which long grass did Molly lose her ball last night? Please, you have to tell me ..."

Just when I thought all was lost along with the tennis ball (Molly lives to chase the tennis ball at the BP) a sweet, golden, harp-like voice inquired, "Do you need another ball?" I turned to see an angel, bathed in a sunbeam, holding out a tennis ball. (OK, it might have been the owner of a chocolate lab who is equally ball-obsessed.)

So Molly got her ball-fix after all. She chased the ball, ate grass, barfed, chased the ball again. Then she came home and had cuddle time with me on the porch (another daily necessity.) Now she's ready for another day of lobbying for impeachment to be put back on the table.

More Molly

I haven't posted any cute dog pictures in a while (not to mention cute kids; I like the contrast of the black and white checks with the black and white spots.)




Oops -- I forgot to credit the photographers. Photos 1, 3, and 4 were taken by Enriched Geranium. Photo 2 was taken by Sparkly SeaCow.

More Molly

She's just such a sweet dog, so I have to put up another picture of her. Last week her previous human came to see her -- my friend Susanne, who gave Molly up when she moved to New Zealand last fall. The original plan was to bring Molly over, but Susanne and her husband felt that the trip and subsequent quarantine would be too hard on Molly, and as fortune would have it we fell in love with her ...

Anyway, we were all a little anxious about whether seeing Susanne would be traumatic for Molly. As it turned out, it was incredibly sweet. Molly greeted Susanne like a dear, old friend and spent about 10 minutes licking her face and "talking" to her, while Susanne told Molly why she wouldn't be making the long trip to NZ. Then Molly went and lay down in her bed, and that was it. She did not seem at all traumatized when Susanne had to leave.

Meanwhile, Susanne (and her other 2 dogs, a couple of young Jack Russell terriers) have gone back to New Zealand.