There is truly something special about Molly. That is the best explanation I have for why hordes of exuberantly sympathetic folks from all sorts of places in the world have taken time to give her a shout out and throw some loving her way.
Molly is feeling it.
Molly’s rescue is a sad story with a happy ending or, the way I see it, it’s a sad story with a happy, new beginning. After a long time of being not so swell, life is smiling at Molly and Molly is learning to smile right back. I want to tell that story. I want to show you that story in pictures. Are you ready?
Here is the first picture of Molly logged on my camera, early September . If you saw the post about her rescue, you would have seen this picture.
I took this because her shaking, crouching body was saying she could not handle anything more intimate than that; no touching, no eye contact. What you cannot tell from this picture is how much our hearts were breaking at the sight of her — and how much she smelled. Oh my goodness, did she smell! Skin infections, eye infections, ear infections, weeks of life as a feral dog; it was not easy on her.
Once we got her home, we coaxed her through two baths and a very painstaking haircut to find this somber little girl hidden inside.
She was not well and it showed. We got into our regular vet first thing the next morning. Here’s the medication arsenal from that first trip:
Molly has visited the vet every week since then, including today where we found out we actually get to wait ten days before returning — no one is taking chances on plans for a full and healthy recovery for this little dear!
Every day, three times a day, Molly had something done to her to improve her health and get her feeling better.
Every day, three times a day, something happens where the something frequently includes medicated baths. Yup, you guessed it, it’s her least favorite part.
Now, good and frequent vet care has certainly played a huge role in Molly’s recovery, but it’s not the only ingredient. We have been loving her up, big time, and I mean Big. Time. We do not pass by her without providing a smooch or snuffle. If she comes to us on her own accord, well, that warrants full body contact for as long as she wants. Gordy is a master at this.
Molly was probably an only dog and now she has siblings — a lot of them. In the beginning, when her health was fragile, the big dogs — the maremmas — were her constant companions, worrying over her and guarding her as much as we did.
Because she was so weak, I would carry her down to the barn and let her find a place where she felt warm and safe. Then the maremmas would lay with her, just to be sure.
One day, Molly decided she was all over that ‘I’m the fragile one” stuff and Molly began to play.
Molly is also wildly enthusiastic about the donkeys. There are three of them — miniature donkeys — but Molly is especially in love with BJ. If Molly is out of eye sight, just find BJ.
Molly is learning a lot from her siblings — not all of which is ideal. But, she’s happy, so we pretty much have to be okay with that.
The point of all this, the thing I want you to see is that Molly is doing better — so much better — because Molly is loved, Molly is a part of a family, Molly is home — for good and forever. Her life was on fast forward to a certain end, but someone intervened, someone said they would find help, and someone answered. You could do that. You could be that person, the one who sees the pup behind the scruff and smell, who sees the pup that shows up when love and care are freely given. There are a million chances to do that every day. Let me know if you do. I will throw all sorts of loving your way, too, like you did, for Molly.
So, yes, Molly. She has decided this works for her, this new life, and we are all very happy about that. All of us.
I told you this was a story in pictures.