Good Golly Miss Molly

Nine years ago, I looked at my aging dog and thought I might want to get another one. On a whim, I called an ad in the newspaper and drove to look at a Labradoodle puppy, four months old. When I got there, she was sitting in the lap of the owner. I sat down on the lawn and she came over to me, I talked to her for a few minutes, and then she walked over to my car and stood there. Let’s go. I don’t think I’ve ever been picked by a dog before. I didn’t have much choice, did I?

Good Golly Miss Molly is 9 years old today, my faithful, adoring friend. She is bigger than they told me she would be, sheds more than I thought, and is too smart for words. I have no idea the depth of her understanding of what is going on with me at any time, but it’s way more than people give her credit for.

She’s the head of my menagerie, all who came after her. She has a little Westie for a sidekick, Annabel, an older friend, Wanda, who really belongs to my daughter-in-law, and two cats, Mickey and Guy. They all love her and follow her everywhere. Except Guy, who is a little more aloof.