I like animals. But I can’t stand those Safari documentaries when a cheetah outruns a a gazelle.
I was the girl with horse posters on her wall. PONY, a magazine from the UK that I subscribed to, once included a hoof pick with one month’s issue. Which I still have somewhere in my closet.
Molly came to us at 2 years old, dirty blonde coat that had managed through harsh Colorado winters when she was previously left in cold. Our leather shoes were soon annihilated by her but we still loved our white lab. Our mom taught Molly a few secrets, including shutting the basement door with her nose, speaking a certain way to be let outside for a pit stop, and fetching the newspaper (though she usually annihilated this too before bringing it in).
12 years. Any time you have such history with something…someone…it’s hard to let them go. Which is what we had to do last week. It’s so tough to have to make the call but it’s the most selfless thing to do when an animal you love is old and suffering.
Molly had a couple bad habits, including sneaking a spot on my mom’s couch when she wasn’t looking or had left the house (hello white, thick, hair. Everywhere). Once she was caught, Molly jumped off and tried hiding, ears bent low. I am convinced that she never liked disappointing us. Yet the couch was always calling her name. She just wanted to please us all the time, her way of showing us love. Many Christmases meant posing for hours while my mom shot every angle of Molly with her reindeer headband.
I’m convinced animals keep my heart soft, and their responses remind me that God’s love is simple and selfless. Adults like to complicate…but a dog that loves its owner just likes to love them. Basic. Good. Life needs more of that.
Leave me a note below. Have you ever lost a dear animal? I’d love to hear your story.
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