Photo: Greg Kretschmar
Last week, we said "Goodbye" to "Molly", who's been in our family for 14 years, since she was 4 months old. I wrote this for two reasons - 1. I had to. This has hit me harder than I ever expected, and I'd never make it through speaking these words at this point. And 2. Maybe some of you can relate to how going through this feels. So with that preface, here's my Ode to Molly....
Ode to Molly
Our house was never lonelier than it was on the day after we had to let our dog “Molly” go. I came home at the usual time, with Valerie and Caitlin both still at work, and walked into our kitchen. I looked up to the bench near the window – Molly’s bench- and it was empty. Molly wasn’t there looking up at me with a hopeful and excited wag in her tail, just waiting for me to go over, kneel in front of her, talk to her and cuddle with her.
That’s when it hit me.
Those are the little missing moments that get you. The holes in your routine. When the clock says 5p and you get up to feed her, and then you remember. When you wake up in the middle of the night, and reach your hand out to pet her, and then you remember. Or when you see the dog dish, or the leash, or her favorite toy. It’s the holes in your day that become holes in your heart.
All because of a dog.
If you’re reading this and thinking – “you’re being a bit melodramatic, aren’t you?” I get that. I really do, and I would have agreed with you 20 years ago. But that was before Molly became a family member. I’m actually floored at how much this has affected me. As a pet owner, you realize that in all likelihood you will outlive them. What I didn’t expect was that we would love THIS dog as much as we love our closest humans, and how losing her would be devastating.
We had 2 dogs before Molly, and we loved them both. But Molly was different. Maybe it was because of the time in our lives she came to us, or maybe it was just that she was, well, the perfect dog for us. I tend to think it was the latter.
(thats one of the first pics of Molly, the first night we brought her home)
Molly was rescued from the streets of Puerto Rico. We used a NH Rescue group known as “Puppy Angels” in Hopkinton. We went to an open house there looking for a lab. When we got there – the lab was in the first of 10 kennels and was jumping all over it’s fence. I told Valerie, “I don’t want a dog that hyper”. Then I looked all the way down to the last kennel- and that’s where Molly was, just sitting there, looking our way. I said “What about THAT one?”. So we walked down, went into the kennel, and I picked her up. She immediately put her head on my shoulder- and the decision was made. Molly chose US.
Molly was a part of our family for 14 years. She was Valerie’s shadow. She was great around people (with the exceptions being the UPS driver, Steve- the neighbors cat, and….Laura- haha). She was gentle with kids, and chill with other dogs. She just had this laid back attitude that fit anything we wanted to do. She walked the neighborhood, the beaches, and trails with us. She sat on her bench on Christmas morning while we opened presents, and she loved to cuddle with Valerie under a blanket on the couch (I always loved seeing that). She was our every day.
Last Wednesday, when I came home from work, Molly went to stand up on her bench when I came into the living room to say “Hello” to her, and her right front leg gave out and she fell onto her face. I brought her to the Vet, but they weren’t sure what it was (due to her age, arthritis in her hips and shoulders, and a previous seizure) so they gave us some antibiotics and pain meds – and told us to check in at 8am the next morning.
The next morning, all 4 legs wouldn’t respond and she was clearly in distress, so we headed to the Veterinarian Hospital in Scarboro. The outlook was grim, and getting worse. Was it a herniated vertebrae in her neck? Cancer? Did she have a seizure and fall down the stairs? Was it a stroke? It was tough to tell given her age. Surgical options had no guarantee of success, and worse- would result in a very long rehab process that would be absolutely brutal on her. That’s when you know you have a decision to make: Do we move forward with surgery that would result in a very low quality of life for her for a long time- just so WE could not feel emotional pain, or do we do what’s merciful to her out of our love?
I know many of you know what it’s like, but for those that don’t- I’m here to say – making that decision fucking sucks. Even if you’re convinced you did the right thing, the BEST thing, for them- you WILL roll it around in your mind like a ghost. I can tell you that that ghost has brought tears to my eyes over the last five days. Still, we all agreed to bring her home to let her go, and spare her the pain. On the way home she had several seizures – and that’s when we knew- it was the right call.
At the end, we were all there by her side, kneeling on the floor, petting her and holding her as she slid into peace. None of us could speak through the tears, but I whispered into her ear that we loved her very much, and repeated the two words I said so many times when she was with us:
“Best dog….”
In the days since then – I’ve thought about that moment, all of us there, letting her go, sparing her from a year of misery – and as hard as it was, it was also beautiful. Molly chose us at the start, and – as strange as it seems- we chose her at the end.
For 14 years, Molly lit up our home and truly became a part of our family. I know that in time, the pain will fade and the cherished memories will be what we look back on. And like I said – I will be first to admit that I never thought I would feel this way over a dog….
Until I met Molly.
And she chose US.
Love you Molly.
#BestDog
(This was one of the last pics I took of her, at our friends Camp - a place she loved to visit)