We had a wonderful time together.

~ ~ ~

For fifteen blessed years on this earth there lived a wonderful chocolate Labrador Retriever, and her name was Molly.

I was the lucky girl who would have her in my life.

When I was thirteen I wished I had a dog again. Our family's Golden Retriever, Tyler (a gentle old boy), had passed away the year before. Going through life without a furry buddy at home felt like half an existence. As a shy girl mostly lost in my thoughts, I lacked strong connections with people. I was lonely.

"Nothing worth having comes easy." How true that was, trying to persuade my parents we should get a new dog! My brother and I started on a single-minded quest to do just that. It took us many months. We did extra chores, performed well in school, kept on our best behavior, and -- in a written, signed contract we drew up ourselves -- promised we would be good caretakers.

Then one day Mom took us looking. We were so excited. As soon as she agreed, I knew my dog was waiting somewhere out there, somewhere close, soon to be found.

That's when we met Molly.

She was only a few months old. I never saw a puppy like her. She had wolflike orange-rimmed eyes, dewy and gentle, not easily forgotten. Her ears and paws looked too big for the rest of her. Her coat was soft, glossy and dark brown. My heart melted and something clicked.

She was so shy and awkward. She didn't seem to know what to do with herself in the company of two eager kids. She wasn't like other puppies romping around and tumbling over themselves; there really was something different about her. It felt like we were kindred spirits, two bashful creatures in a big, big world.

We took her home and I was head over heels. We were careful not to be too energetic as we knew this was a big change for her. We brought her outside to see the backyard and she burst out of her bubble, running from one family member to the next, playfully nibbling our fingers and jumping into our laps. I knew she had an inner spunk waiting to come out! But when we took her inside, she hid behind the microwave cart and started to cry. This was going to take some time.

I'll never forget that first night. We set up a bed for her in my room. She whimpered and cried, in an unfamiliar place, missing her pack. I was in bed too. I turned over and called out to her, telling her it was all right. It seemed to help just a little. After an hour or so she fell asleep.

Before I dozed I thought: this is it, this is the brand new start. I thought ahead to all the years we'd have together. I tried to wrap my head around everything we could do, all the fun and adventures we could have, all the places we could go.

The future always seems so full when we're young, all the possibilities existing at once before the fateful narrative chooses just one thread of story. I thought of Old Yeller and Travis, of Old Dan, Little Ann and Billy. I hoped our connection would be as meaningful as theirs. A girl and her dog, together always.

In the back of my mind there was a little shadow: I knew our friendship couldn't last forever. I realized that one day, I'd be looking back through memory at that moment. But what did that matter? That night was so well protected from the distant future by all the years we would share in between. For a young girl it seemed so long, and time moved so slowly after all. We might as well have had forever.

There it was, the first day, and Molly had already taught me something -- what it is that's beautiful about every new beginning.

More to follow...

October 18, 2021

Molly,

I can't believe it's been five years.

When I opened the blinds this morning to let in some light, I saw the trees in their autumn gold standing over the empty cornfield past the backyard. This time of year always hits a little differently now, since it reminds me of when we had to say goodbye. It's still the most beautiful time of year, though. We had some nice walks under falling leaves like these.

Molly, I thought I would be able to write all of our story here. That was my original intention, but I don't think I can do it. The memories I have of us, I don't remember where to place anymore. I don't remember where they belong. I can't recall how old we were when certain things happened, or what time of year it might have been -- I don't know where the pieces fit anymore.

But that makes the memories no less precious to me. I hold onto them like little gems. I still remember how we played, and the way your fur feels.

From time to time I see you when I'm dreaming and it's absolutely wonderful. Sometimes you're older, sometimes you're a puppy, but it doesn't matter either way. I feel so happy when you come back to visit. There are usually several other dogs and cats with you -- looks like you've been making lots of friends at the Rainbows Bridge. Or maybe that's your way of telling me to open my heart to a new friend. I promise will adopt in your memory once we're able to.

I love you Molly, and you'll be in my heart liie always, because you never left it. We will be together again in full some day.

All my Love,

Nicole

~ ~ ~

Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my own familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
- "Death is nothing at all" by Henry Scott Holland

~ ~ ~

You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she's gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back
or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
- "She is gone" by David Harkin

October 25, 2023

My beloved Miss Molly, I cannot believe it's been seven years since I last saw you. So much has changed!

I think of you every time this year when the leaves are in full autumn bloom here in Pennsylvania. I moved away to a new city and I'm getting married in just a few days!

As chance or destiny would have it, life brought another little Labrador girl into my life. Her name is Lola and she's my fiance's rescue dog. With all the little things she does, she reminds me of you so much and so often. I can't tell you how many times I've almost (or have) called her by your name, Molly.

The journey we had, and the golden memories that remain because of it, always remind me to fill Lola's days with happiness, activity, and as much good health as can be given. I do all this in your memory.

Oh -- I got a cat too! His name is Luca but we never stopped calling him Mr. Kitty. I got him from a family who needed to rehome him, and it's been great being a cat mom too. You would have LOVED to play with him... for as long as he puts up with it before he thinks you're too much energy and hides from you under the bed!

I still miss you deeply. But I am so thankful your spirit remains.

Love, Nicole