Memories of Molly bring comfort

My family suffered a terrible loss when our dog, Molly, died unexpectedly last May. I planned on writing a September column in her memory since she would have been 11 this month. Imagine my surprise when I read Lisa Welch's Johnson Lane Journal last Wednesday, which talked about her dog's passing and ways we can keep our dogs safe. My condolences go out to Lisa and her family as they work through this difficult time.

I've had dogs since I was a child and although I loved them all, Molly was the first dog I felt truly belonged with me. She was literally "that doggy in the window" I spotted on a blustery Truckee December afternoon in 1995. When I held her, she fit perfectly in my cupped hands and nuzzled into my neck. Heaven! She was gentle and sweet, and when I prodded my reluctant husband, Scott, to hold her, she worked her charms on him too.

We drove home with her asleep on my lap, small enough to cradle in the space between my legs.

"A smooth fox terrier and cocker spaniel mix," the man at the store told us. "She should be about 18 pounds."

This seemed ideal, as we lived in a duplex at the time and didn't want a dog so large that it would feel confined.

Fifty-five pounds later, we never did learn what breed she was exactly, but we did learn that she was perfect for us.

Molly was a natural, motivational walking partner. We would often take her out to the dirt roads around the Ranchos and she'd run about, sniffing the sagebrush and occasionally spooking a bird hiding within. We never had to worry about her running away, as she did fine when we let her off the leash. She'd always come back when we called her, or at least stayed in one spot until we got to her.

She loved people. Molly thrived on attention and always had to have someone nearby. If you were in the same room with her, she'd sidle up and lay her head on your lap to quietly ask to be petted. She often scooted herself backward in order to rest against your leg or even sit on your foot if you were reading or watching TV. She loved to snuggle and would squeeze between Scott and me if we were lounging around or sitting on the floor by the fire.

And how she enjoyed fires. When we lived in our duplex, I'd come home from work on cold evenings and she'd be sitting against the sofa with this pleading look on her face. I'd kneel down to greet her and she would actually start to shiver as I came near. So, sucker that I am, I'd build her a fire in the woodstove and she'd lay next to it, panting and blissful from basking in the glorious heat.

There wasn't anything she wouldn't try. We took her for boat rides on Silver Lake, cross country ski trips throughout Hope Valley, swimming in the Carson River and hiking on the trails throughout this beautiful area. About the only thing she didn't like was getting in the car to go to all these places.

Molly was our baby for nine years before our son, Samuel, arrived and we were worried about how she might adjust. Although the transition was difficult for her, she handled it with about as much aplomb as one might expect. She was fiercely loyal and protective of Sam, though in day-to-day life she merely tolerated him. She accepted his curious approaches and would calmly move to another part of the room if his prodding got to be too much. He loved her, and even though she didn't express it freely to him, I believe the feeling was mutual. Now when Sam sees photos of her around the house, he points up toward the heavens and says "woof woof."

Perhaps what I miss most about Molly is her hugs. She never lost that propensity to snuggle and took great delight in getting as close to you as she could. She'd sit right next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and I'd say, "May I please have a hug?" Molly would immediately press her face into my shoulder and keep it there until I hugged her back.

It's been four months since she left us and it is still difficult to accept. Molly's open and loving demeanor changed all of us for the better, and we miss her sweet presence so much. How fortunate we were to have had her as long as we did.

n Amy Roby can be reached by e-mail at RanchosRoundup@hotmail.com