Molly

When I go home for breaks, I realize how much I miss my pets.  I first noticed it over Christmas break, when I think I annoyed my family by yelling “Aww! Look at them! They’re so cute!” anytime one of my cats or my dog did anything remotely interesting (like stretch, or yawn...or roll over).  After about five of these outbursts, my parents and sister just stopped looking up from what they were doing at all.  As I read the list of possible blog topics for class, I knew I wanted to write one about my dog.  My cats are alright too, but they only like me sometimes.  And my dog, Molly, has a much more interesting story.  

All three of our pets are adopted from rescue organizations, so it’s hard to say what breed Molly really is.  She’s salt and pepper colored, with a big black spot on her back, pointy ears and a curled, fluffy tail.  She looks like a combination between a blue heeler (if you know what those look like) and something small, like a Chihuahua or terrier.  Molly has quite a personality, and when I walk her down the street she holds her tail up high in a haughty way.  This always makes other dogs bark at her and try to get off of their leashes.  My family has had Molly for about nine years, since the summer I was in fifth grade.  

That summer, my mom and I volunteered to work a few days a week at the Humane Society of North Texas near our house.  Well, my mom actually worked, and I mostly played with the animals.  The shelter wasn’t very big; there were probably only about twenty animals there at a time.  If any of the animals were especially friendly they roamed the shelter freely and got to stay in the front office.  From the beginning of her time there, Molly was that dog.  She never barked and even though she was only about a year old she reacted calmly to everything that went on.  My mom and I both loved her because when we sat down to play with her, she would crawl into our laps and put her paws on our shoulders, like a hug.  I’d never been “hugged” by a dog before, so I thought she was pretty special. 

Towards the end of the summer, we heard the good news that she’d been adopted.  On the day her new owners were scheduled to come pick her up, we said our goodbyes to her and hoped she would be happy at her new home.  A few days later, she was still there.  No one ever came to get her or called to say they’d changed their minds.  My mom and I felt like this happened for a reason, and that we were supposed to adopt her instead.  We brought my younger sister to see Molly, and she loved her too.  We bought her and took her home that afternoon.  I couldn’t stop smiling, petting Molly as my mom signed all the paperwork.  During this whole process, my dad was away at a conference for work.  We didn’t tell him anything until after we adopted Molly, since it all happened so fast.  My mom worried that he would be upset when he came home since he didn’t get to help us decide, but as soon as he got home, Molly jumped in his lap and hugged him too.  After that there was no doubt that Molly would stay.  Nine years later, she still hugs me every time I go home to see her.