She was in the business of dying.
She had a few rough days previously, but I guess one is never prepared.
Many years ago, when we were told to come get her, Husband hurried to where she was. He opened the truck door and she turned her head and looked.
She came flying through the meadow, went slap dab through the middle of the creek, soared into the truck seat, skidded across and jammed herself up next to Husband as close as she could get with her head on his shoulder.
I reckon we had us a dog at that point.
She was absolutely beautiful. Every time I walked her, some fella, usually in a pick up truck, would come to a screeching halt to admire her. Young or old, they loved her bull doggy stance, her intense stare coming out of her half-white, half-black face.
That stubby tail never wagged for anyone until she knew you were safe to be around her family.
And her family included our crazy cats. She considered them hers. Eli especially will miss her, since she's been there all his life.
Eli and Molly
Once, we had the great idea to take three cats to the vet all at one time. Molly watched and listened to their carrying on. When we started loading them up, she practically pushed Daughter down to get to the car. She hopped in the back seat and refused to budge.
Nobody was going anywhere with all her babies.
So Daughter rode in the back seat between a hundred and ten pound bull dog and two cat carriers.
Molly tried to save Husband from a bear. And although she couldn't get outside, she really did save him, because her barking alerted him to something going on he couldn't see. The bear was strolling down the driveway headed straight for him, but was aggravated by Molly barking on the porch, so it turned around and went the other way. Meanwhile, Molly was frantically racing back and forth from front door to back trying to get out of the house. Other than that episode, she hated the smell of a bear and would get back in the house as quickly as possible.
When she was young she and Daughter would play chase. It usually ended up with Daughter in the back of the truck yelling for help.
This morning our bouncy, barky, fun loving dog couldn't stand up. Her breathing was labored.
I thought she would die before the day ended. But finally we called the vet, not wanting a night to pass with her in that shape.
The vet came, checked her, said, "It's time. She's never going to get back up."
Daughter got in the floor by her and I sat on a low stool on the other side.
Molly put her head in Daughter's lap.
Those eyes were trusting, loving us until the end.
Husband took to the woods to dig a grave and grieve in private.
But before he went, he laid down in the floor by Molly and stroked her head and told her all sorts of secrets that were just between the two of them.
She had earned a white muzzle and knobby joints.
She was a good girl and we loved her so.
And she loved us right back.
Goodbye, old girl. We will miss you.
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