This page is dedicated to our Molly who left us August 5, 2009 at 2:45 p.m.  We miss her terribly and would like to use this space to post comments about her and our other faithful friends so dearly missed.

Molly,

It is 11:32 p.m. on a cool August 4^th night in Colorado.  You lay near me and this illuminated screen where I struggle to put the words my head longs to say and yet my heart breaks to hear.  Tomorrow we will say goodbye, for perhaps a considerable amount of time. I cannot believe in my heart that this is the last time that I will feel you nearby.   It is my hope in my very soul that truly there is a heaven and that with all those loyal companions and loved ones who preceded you, that you will find a comfort in knowing that I let you go because I loved you so.  Should there not be a place for you in this “heaven” then I think I should never want to go.  In fourteen years I have never been so far that I could not hear your heartbeat or witness your beautiful smile. To not have you nearby at this time tomorrow, to not be able to reach out and touch your boney little body, is a thought that pierces my heart.

Some would never understand the connection we shared.  For them I am sad.  They will never know the simple things that make this life so rich, so full of color and purpose.  On the other hand they will also never know the stress (and the vet bills) of a bee-eating dog whose face resembled more of a basketball than that of a young puppy (who shouldn’t have eaten the bee in the first place).  Your eyes were just swollen slits that pulsed as you attempted to blink.  It was a bit freaky but after a couple hundred coins dropped at the vet’s office and the return of your beautiful black and white face, it became a bit funny.  What wasn’t funny was the second time you repeated your bee hunting skills – on an early summer morning in a remote lake area of Idaho…remember being at that particular vet? We certainly do.

Most would understand the comic relief you provided each of us throughout the years.  The chasing after the model rockets Rob and Matt launched…the countdown “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” drove you crazy and I held you by the collar as the rocket ignited and lifted off.  You took off like a bullet, watching the rocket soar, following it through the sky and tipping us off as to where it had landed. Funny thing was every 4^th of July, you believed every firework to be another one of your rockets.  Even this past 4^th, you insisted on being on the front patio.  I knew it to be your last summer celebration and in the glow of the exploding fireworks, I watched you lie there on the hard concrete as if there were no other place to be.

I will never understand the fascination with my bras and fishing them out of the hamper.  I can still see you running down the sidewalk in our Virginia neighborhood with the center of my bra in your mouth and a cup on both sides!  Everything including your ears, jowls and “cups” were flapping as you proudly bolted down the street.  Not sure what the neighbors ever thought. Not sure I ever cared.    

Speaking of fishing – seeing you in Rose Lake in Idaho will forever be imprinted upon my heart and mind.  You would stand there, belly deep, until every ripple you created from entering the water, had disappeared.  Your head pointed toward the water and your boxy ears ready for the pounce…I SO wanted you to catch a fish however only the one in the bucket ever graced your canines.  Can’t say the same for the bird you snatched off the branch of the blue spruce in our front yard in Montana!

The Lewis and Clark trail in Montana– what fun we had there! Every morning after dropping the boys off at school, you and I would escape the confines of the base gates and hit the Lewis and Clark trail.  I’d open up the Intrepid and out you’d leap.  I’d watch from just outside the car with coffee cup and newspaper in hand as you once again “hunted” the determined rabbits – determined to never be caught.  A simple honk of the horn and your beautiful black and white head would pop up from the snow and you’d run like a prized horse, jump into the back seat and back at home, catch your morning nap in the sun coming through the living room windows.  What a life you had.  What a life you gave me. What a life we shared.

I’m not sure if finding and burying the wrapped food gifts from under the Christmas tree would classify as sharing as I never really “offered” them to you but you found them and did in fact bury them, only to be found in the spring.  Doggie doors are great aren’t they?

Speaking of Christmas, you always slept under the tree the first night it was up – you and Matt.  Throughout the season if I didn’t spot you the typical five feet from me, I could always find you asleep under the lit tree.  As Santa delivered you to our lives on Christmas morning fourteen years ago, I guess it was no surprise the tree was your favorite hide out.  I shall miss your presence under the tree. That was always a gift.

I always called you “The Ten O’clock Dog” as most mornings you wouldn’t really rise until then.  Being a military family dog, you and I spent a great deal of time together, just the two of us. You were my confidant.  You were the one I knew who wouldn’t judge me when I felt lonely, scared or sad.  Family lived too far to help and being the boss’s wife for fifteen years took its toll on a heart.  You on the other hand, rebuilt that same heart, day after day.

How many dogs go to General Officer’s school?  You did, of course.  Ten days in D.C. to learn how to be tactful (ha!)  - for me – not you.  You already had that nailed!  But we didn’t leave you behind in Montana – you came with us!  Needless to say I would have rather been with my Molly than sipping Martini’s with other General’s wives.  You were definitely more enjoyable, had so much more class and often times, intellect.

Your waggles, your attack of the sprinkler heads, your hopping into my tub when I turned my back, your search for the final snow bank upon which to lie, your chasing the boys back to bed, your lying in the middle of every board game we ever attempted to play on the floor, the way peanut butter crackers stuck to the roof of your mouth, your anticipation for the bus everyday and the two boys that always came home to you…you filled and brightened up every little corner of my world and for that I shall never forget you and miss every day I’m without you.

Molly I thank you for being a part of my life.  When the world turned ugly you remained beautiful. When other’s doubted or criticized me you were unflinching and loyal.  You were and will forever remain My Molly Girl.  It is my hope that tomorrow when you last look into my eyes that you will see the years of love you gave to me and the gratitude I give back to you.  It has been a beautiful life with you Miss Molly.  I will miss you every day I draw a breath and look forward to seeing you on the other side.

I love you Baby Girl.

Your Mom