MOLLY

                                                         

It has been a while since I wrote about Molly. For those of you who are new to this column, Molly is my Labrador dog. When you look into race and genetics in the Minnesota dog world, it would be fair to say there are more labs and half labs in this state then there are Norwegians in Norway. I heard of a woman who put an add in the paper for her lost Lab. It read in part.” Lost Black lab with red collar. If found please bring to the address in this add for a generous reward.” She said they brought 4 of them before she got the right one.

Labs are known for having good dispositions and Molly is no exception. If another dog growls at her she looks over her shoulder at who is behind her, because they can’t possible be mad at her. They are natural hunters and I guess with careful training they can make a good hunting companion. Not sure how long that takes but in Molly’s case it would probably be most of her useful lifetime. She hunts all right; it’s just that she isn’t picky about her selection of prey. If it moves and runs away from her she’s right on it’s tail. In the case of a skunk she might be right under the tail and has been. Pew!

I told you she gets along with other people and other dogs. In Arizona I have to keep her leashed when I walk her. She has pulled me flat out on the ground three times, in a charge to make a new acquaintance. Her favorite charge is a 180-degree backwards thrust with the leash between my legs when I’m walking forward. You can imagine the logistics of that. Once I was picking up what she had just done in the grass; my hand was inches from the stinky pile, when she took off, which sent my hand into the middle of the pile of excrement, a mile from home. A half mile from home I met an acquaintance that always likes a hearty handshake and I managed to get my soiled hand in my pocket and extend the other hand upside down which brought a, “What the hell look,” from him and a short end to a clean pair of pants. I just sewed the pocket shut after that.

Every time I take her to the vet they tell me she needs to lose more weight. What I feed her would starve a Teacup Poodle-- I was going to say Mexican Chihuahua but I couldn’t spell it--Oh all right, for cripes sake I looked it up, okay. Anyway its what she finds to eat that gets her in trouble. Molly’s theory is just eat it and if it don’t set well, throw it up by the patio doors when he’s asleep and he will step in it in the morning when he lets me out. I have analyzed a lot of dog vomit and fifty percent of the time I don’t have a clue what she ate. Then there is the begging at the table and the dishes to lick afterwards. What? Do you realize how much water I save by not rinsing my dishes? Molly sleeps by herself at night. Her idea not mine, but I think for the better. The other night I got up during the night to—you know what I got up for—and she’s on the couch where she doesn’t belong. I took the lid off a tote and put it on the couch so she wouldn’t get back up there and went back to bed.  Then I got right back up and did what I was going to do in the first place, before I wet myself and she’s back on the couch. She threw the tote lid down the basement stairs.