R.I.P. Molly Gray

Last April our friends let us borrow their dog for the weekend.  It was a test-run for all of us.  They were moving to New York City and just couldn't see Molly in an apartment all day long.  We previously owned a sweet boxer that passed away when Grady was about a year old and this just felt like it was meant to be.

Our son has been obsessed with canines since as long as I can remember, but he had a hard time with the real deal.  Stuffed animals were no problem and he quickly amassed hundreds, naming each and every one and remembering where they came from (friends, family, his own money, etc.).  Plastic figurines were his medium of choice when creating a world of dogs on our living room floor for years and years (and he still does this).  He has two shelves dedicated to books about dogs, treasured Dog Fancy magazines, and his dog encyclopedias have pages upon pages that are dog-earred (no pun intended...).  This boy loves himself a dog.

We decided Molly would join our family and happily welcomed her at the end of the school year last June.  She brought an energy to our home that had been missing.  We had a faithful companion for our son and he was no longer afraid of dogs or, should I say, he was not afraid of his own dog, the new and oh so lovely, Miss Molly Gray.

She loved to shake her hind like she was dancing to a Beyoncé song whenever anyone came to call at our house.  She was so excited when we came home and loved to chase a frisbee (and then proceed to devour it until we had to throw it away).  She made a few escapes from our property over the last year, but safely returned when she was done exploring the open pastures behind our house.

She was often dressed up in Grady's baby blanket and paraded around as Super Dog.  Yes, she most certainly was a super dog.  Grady marked her birthday on his calendar, April 14th, and she turned seven years old last month.

And while she could be found lounging on the deck most of her days, she never denied our little boy when he wanted to use her as a pillow.

She feigned slight disinterest when the new chicks joined us a few months ago, but she kept a close eye on them.  She never once chased our hens or the flock of turkeys that sauntered through our property.  She didn't have time for that, as she was usually busy sunbathing.

She loved to get in the backseat of my car and put her head out the window on our short trips to the post office or to pick up her master from school.

Last week was a hard one for us.  Molly wasn't her usual doggie self and when the vet came to the house to check her out last weekend we hoped for the best.  Within a day or two we knew that our dog was gravely ill.  She was diagnosed with lymphoma.  She couldn't eat or drink due to the growth under her tongue.  The decision was made and we prepared our dog-loving son for the worst.  He had been shooting a documentary about Molly while she was ill.  It is some of the saddest footage I have ever seen.  We said our goodbyes, cried a whole lot, planned a funeral and felt an emptiness in our house that I had yet to experience since we've lived here.

The next day we buried her near a newly planted California Buckeye tree in the middle of our property, put flowers on her grave and reminisced about all of the wonderful times we had with her in the short time she was with our family.  She was such a gift and we are so grateful that Karen, Terence and their two kids shared her with our family.

Rest in peace Miss Molly Gray.  We will never forget you.