Molly has now been in our family for almost seven months, unimaginable that she’s not always been at the foot of our bed. Any trust issues she once had, being deserted, or living so long at a shelter, have evaporated.Her behaviors continue to evolve and delight, scratching our heads in amazement and sometimes, disbelief. I think in dog years she is now transitioning to her teen years? Can a dog’s behaviors change just like that, in a few short months, as do those of her human counterparts?
The surprising ways in which our girl has grown and changed (in addition to gaining 20 lbs):
She is not necessarily a people person. As lovable as she is with us, she will barely give an extended hand a sniff, before moving on. Not all the time, but often.
Everywhere we go, she is loved by people who politely ask if they can pet her, in addition to her breed and history. I tell them sure, but she is very shy, and they always seem happy to just look at her. Sometimes that extended hand is rewarded with more than a sniff.
Sometimes, strangely, a street person will not wait. I get a bit nervous, but then wham, she lets them love her up, no questions asked—go figure.
She cares little for other creatures—squirrels, who are everywhere, or birds, a close second to squirrels, or other dogs. But at least for this species, she will perform a perfunctory evaluation before making up her mind.
First the look, then the pull, waiting too see if the owner is game, then the nose to nose, the butt sniff, a bit of circling, and if the dog appears to be to her liking, a bounce backward, a signal that she is ready to play.
At first, she loved the off leash dog park, where she romped and ran and gleefully carried on, but now is quite resistant to them. When we walk past, she tenses and pulls like she’s in a tractor pull competition. She hates barking and aggressive dogs.
Although, when we go to the river, for some reason, she acts like her old self—river dog camaraderie a very big deal.
And then there is the mom, Susan. As I wrote in a previous column how Molly is Mom’s constant shadow. She gives me tons of love, but the shadow effect is ever present, and not for that one long day when Susan goes to work, but anytime she leaves for any amount of time.
Molly can appear sound asleep on the couch, and then mom heads to the bathroom, and so does Molly, to either stand guard, or place herself six inches from where mom is doing her business—if that isn’t weird.
On Mom’s day at work, I start our morning walk as soon as Susan hits the road, to keep the sadness to a minimum. We have a great time, but when we get home, she hides in Susan’s closet, one of her favorite spots. She won’t even touch her breakfast until mom returns at the end of the day. A half hour before Susan steps though the door, Molly senses the time and positions herself on the couch, to be able to go nuts on her the minute the door handle starts to turn.
Sometimes I lay on the bed, which seems to be my best bet to draw her out. I can perform tummy rubs and she will stay with me until my hand falls off. As soon as I stop, back to the closet.
This is all so very strange in light of the love people show her, and want from her. On Mom’s Monday recently, I had a doctor’s appointment, but not until 1:30. At ten I knew we needed to get out of the apartment. We could do the slow amble—now referred to as Mollygagging—for a couple of miles, but we would still be way too early. I hadn’t slept the night before and I counted on her to pull me along. At each place we stopped, to give dear old dad time to recoup, she laid down like the big fuzzball she is. At each stop, people stopped for that history lesson on Molly: what kind of dog, how old, where did I get her, and on and on. I always have some treat they might give her to see if she will step up. When a well heeled doctor and his wife stopped to stare at her in the hospital in front of the elevators, I knew there was pain in their recent past. Sure enough, a dog they had had for 17 years had been put down recently, and they could not get enough of Ms. Molly—telling me how lucky I was, and all about their dog, then showing me a pic on his iPad, full screen. As they stayed cemented to the carpet for a moment of memories and solace, they did not ask to pet, as they only needed to look, and tell me again and again how lucky I was.
That’s our Molly, a sure fire conundrum we will love, and wonder about, and share the best we can with anyone in need of a good dog fix.
As the title of this letter says, this the 50th, brings GoodGollyMollyMe to a close, I think. I’m not sure how well I addressed my initial goals—1) building a community of readers in need of a a positive look at he world—as next to no one ever responded to any of my posts. Although, from Substack’s analytics, it seems many readers were opening and having a look. To any and all of these readers, the pleasure was mine, and many thanks.
I am not at all surprised or disappointed as that seems to be the way with online communication, although I thought the more direct approach, using emails instead of social media, would work better. Any social media guru would tell you how much more work I would have to do in constantly reaching out in every way possible to attract and keep more readers. Actually, I would rather put in the time doing what I love best, writing.
The best news, after 50 posts, I am formatting these newsletters for a book entitled, GoodGollyMollyMe—the Book. Mostly to satisfy my soul, but available to anyone who needs to remember the GoodGollMollyMe era. To the three wonderful people who actually paid for a subscription, please let me know the best way I can reimburse, or, in lieu of this, happy to send you a copy of the book when it comes out, probably in the next couple of months.
For now, adios, I always love trying to understand my life in words, and with Molly at my side, and all those who came along for the ride, it’s been a pleasure.
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So long and thanks for all the fish. 🐟 😊😝😆👏🏼
I've enjoyed reading about Molly and the joy she brings to your life. The humans were as lucky as Molly when you found each other!