A Tribute to Mollie: A New Beginning

This article was also released in the Fall/Winter 2010 Issue of Imprints. (Used with permission.)

A few years ago when Tom became President of NEOCR, he was looking for a volunteer to coordinate the group’s newsletter. I thought about it. Considering the condo I live in has limited space and a small yard, taking in extra collies isn’t possible. I thought maybe this was a way I could actually contribute to the organization. Since graphics and communications come pretty naturally to me, I figured I could help the rescues while continuing to conquer the computer world.

I’m not among the gifted and generous folks who do intakes, or coordinate foster homes, or place adoptions, or acquire multiple dogs when we don’t have enough foster homes, or orchestrate the endless details to shuffle dogs to critical vet appointments. Rather I’m one of the “behind the scenes” people who flutter around tracking down e-mails, updating forms, maintaining websites, snapping pictures, tracking “happy tail” stories, editing copy, etc. In my own way, I wanted to “pay it forward” in gratitude for the wonderful and somewhat famous pup that came into my life six years ago, “Ms. Mollie the Collie.”

No one told me as editor that I needed a box of Kleenex^® to do my job. But then again, no one told me how much rejoicing or how many “happy feet dances” would be going on when I was fortunate enough to read about all the joyful endings and splendid adoptions. I would be up to my eyeballs in my usual design details, pulling another late-night shift, when Mollie would come into the office bedroom and give me “the paw.” It was her way of letting me know she was still there, and it was probably time to call it a night. I would lean over, grab her behind the ears, ruffle her all up until she was fuzzy, and say to her, “It’s all because of you, Mollie! Who knew? Who knew you would bring all this joy into my life?”

Mollie came into my life when I desperately needed to mend a broken heart. She and my calico kitty, Buffy, were very much filling the void I was experiencing. What I didn’t know was how many people I would meet, how many friends I would make, or just how many lives Mollie would touch. I’m still amazed at the neighbors who got out of their cars to pet her, the kids who became her fan club, and the people in the park who stopped and tell me their story about their own dog once they met mine. Okay, I admit it: I’m guilty of stopping to talk to the local dog lovers as well.

I’m the kind of person who sees an injured animal on the road and then runs home to check on my animals and make sure they are okay. I loved the secure sound of my dog softly snoring in her bed on floor next to mine. I loved when my cat and dog played tag. And when I poked my head around the corner to see what they were up to, they both stopped in their tracks and looked at me as if to say, “Who me? Not me!” And I knew one day it would be my sad turn to write a tribute to the pup who brought so many great experiences into my life.

Mollie, in a word, had an exuberance for life. On her walks, she pranced down the street with her head held high and a tail that eagerly swished. Squirrels, raccoons, bunnies and deer had better look out when she was on the prowl. Mollie loved everybody and everybody loved Mollie. If I walked without her, everyone wanted to know if she was okay.

Despite all her exuberance, Mollie’s Achilles heel was her digestive system. It was a delicate balancing act to keep from tummy to tail happy. It seemed like in the last year we had made some real progress. We adjusted her diet, the stomach acid problem seemed under control and the span between vet visits was improving. Whenever I took her to the vet, they were able to fix her up, send her home, and she would be on the mend in no time at all. Then one day there was the trip to the vet where I wasn’t so sure if they could put her back together again, but I was hopeful.

We had just attended the Whine & Cheese fundraiser in May and had a lovely time. Mollie became sick about a week later. We went to the vet, got some medication, and she seemed to be on a slow road to recovery. A few weeks later at the beginning of June, Mollie started to not feel well again. This time she wouldn’t eat. She was restless and couldn’t get comfortable. Climbing the one or two steps into the house now became a challenge. I made an appointment for her on a Monday morning before work. I called work and left a message that I would be in late. We got ready to go to the appointment, but this time I had to lift her into the car, which left me pretty concerned.

After her examination, we decided to keep Mollie at the vet’s for the day to have some extra tests done. Off I went to work. Later in the day, the vet’s office called back and told me that while her blood work came back good, something showed up on Mollie’s x-ray. We decided to have her stay at the vet’s overnight and have a series of barium x-rays done the next day. I thought it would be safe for her there where she could be monitored, and they could keep her medicated and hydrated. The house was strangely quiet that night.

The next morning, I went off to work again. I received a call in the morning from the vet’s office, and we went over Mollie’s history again on the phone, It sounded like she took a turn for the worse overnight, but they were still going to do the tests. The next call came in telling me that she had definite internal blockage in her intestines. Then I had to decide whether to do surgery to determine the nature of the blockage. I hoped it would be something fixable, like retrieving a swallowed cat toy. We went ahead with the surgery. At this point, no longer able to concentrate on work, I packed up my desk and headed home. Unfortunately, I took the bus that day and had a long commute home.

The third phone call came in while I was on the bus on the way home. Mollie had a rather large tumor totally obstructing her small intestine. Given her weakened state, the size of the tumor, her recent rapid weight loss, and her continual vomiting despite being on anti-nausea medicine, I made the difficult decision to let her pass on to that peaceful resting place where dogs freely play and romp the fields without pain or suffering. We decided not to wake Mollie up from the surgery, and then I would stop in to say my goodbyes when I got off the bus. Mollie experienced such separation anxiety; I didn’t have the heart to wake her up just to put her down again.

I hung up the phone and sobbed uncontrollably. I suppose the other people on the bus wondered why I was hyperventilating into my Kleenex. A few minutes later, a woman boarded the bus who was only riding for a short distance; she didn’t even take a seat. She stood near the bus driver so she could get off at the right stop. I was watching her while tears were still streaming down my face. I blinked my tears away and took a closer look at the tote bag she carried over her shoulder. It had “Molly Molly Molly” written all over it. I couldn’t believe it. A moment later, I swear I saw Mollie’s face appear on the side of the bag as if she were once again eagerly looking out the window at me…bright eyed and alert. I blinked again and the face slowly disappeared and the canvas bag returned. I looked at my watch and concluded at that moment she must have passed… and that was her way of saying goodbye.

I stopped at the vet’s office as soon as I got off the bus and paid my last respects. It was so hard to believe this time I was coming home without my beloved Mollie. She looked like she was just taking an afternoon nap. I am forever grateful to Royalton Road Animal Hospital for the compassion they showed both before and after Mollie’s passing.

Only another pet lover can understand the range of emotion in this kind of situation. And those of us whose pets are our kids can understand when I say I felt I lost one of my girls. I hadn’t felt this lousy since my dad passed way 11 years earlier.

At this point I could say that Mollie’s life was over, or was it? I was truly amazed by all the concern that was expressed after she passed; humbled by the donations made in her honor. I received more cards from Mollie’s passing than when my father died. I received cards from people I didn’t directly know; they were my neighbor’s friends who always asked how Mollie was doing. I had two friends who talked together on the phone about a friend who lost a dog, and it turned out they both knew “Mollie the Collie” but didn’t realize they both knew me!

Being Mollie’s Mom was truly a privilege. I felt it was the one thing in life I had actually done right. She gave me a sense of purpose. Some people want a dog that brings them the newspaper or slippers. I wanted a dog that brought me out of myself, and indeed Mollie did just that.

I miss her nudging nose. I miss her noseprints on the patio door. I miss leaving lipstick smooches on her white snout. I miss that special language we had where she hung onto every word I said trying to anticipate what she should do next. Go outside? Go for a walk? Go for a ride? Go see grandma? Okay, let’s go!

Well, it was a long and difficult summer to say the least. I apologize for the fall/winter issue of Imprints being so long overdue, but I lost some of the wind out of my sails. This could be the end of Mollie’s story, or it could be another beginning. Funny thing — she came into my life to heal a broken heart, and she somehow left me with a stronger heart.

So it begins again. I sit here writing this editorial with my handy box of Kleenex. My foster dog, Bosco, lays curled up at my side with his paw touching my leg.

“Bosco, you’ve got big paws to fill. I hope you realize that. Oh wait, you already have HUGE paws.”

He lets out one of his long sighs.

“Well buddy, I think we’re in it for the long haul. Don’t plan on going anywhere, okay?”

Okay.

It's All In a Name

By Mollie the Collie

Most of you know me as Ms. Mollie, mascot of my neighborhood and loved by many. Funny thing a name is. Often you’re stuck with it for life. Either it sticks and people remember you, or it doesn’t and people have a hard time remembering or spelling your name. Luckily, my Mom and the folks who fostered me gave me a great name, one that’s easy to remember, and a rhyming one at that. This was GREAT for little kids. Who could forget a name like “Mollie the Collie?”

Well, let me tell you. My Mom had all kinds of “pet names” for me, if you’ll pardon the pun. For instance…not many people knew I had a middle name: “Mollie Sue” became my formal name. A friend of Mom’s gave it to me. Little did she know it was my Mom’s middle name, too! I was very proud of that addition to my name. But if Mom actually used my middle name, well then she really wanted my attention. There were lots of other lesser-known names that my Mom gave me to fit a given situation. Such as…

Nervous Nellie. Well I heard this one every time there was a thunderstorm or fireworks. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t too fond of loud noises. They made me nervous and I would start to pace. I had a hard time deciding whether to round up the family (that was the herding instinct in me) or head for the hills. Can you blame me? Sometimes Mom would tell us to all go downstairs to the basement. At least there I could see everyone. Eventually I’d wear myself out, the storm would pass and all would be well again.

Snortin’ Norton. Don’t ask me where this one came from. Sometimes I would just get excited and start huffing and puffing, and well, this little snort would just come out. Apparently Mom found it funny when I expressed my disenchantment of a situation.

Pokey Puppy. This one wasn’t so bad. Some days I just moved slower than others. Morning walks were my favorite. Cool, fresh air, birds chirping, grass to munch, all kinds of new smells to check out. Who said I had to be in a hurry just because Mom had to get to work?

Teddy Bear. This was cool. Mom would tell me I was her personal teddy bear. She said I gave good hugs. The trick here was to avoid being squished. Actually, it was a bit of a privilege to feel so loved.

Harley Momma. Not one of my favorites, I can tell you! Mom had this silly hat she would put on me. Couldn’t she see my ears were too big and pretty to fit under that hat? Sheesh! To think of what I had to put up with for those photo opportunities.

Silly Girl. Sometimes I’d get called this name when I was just being myself and frolicking in the snow or grass. I loved the outdoors. Wriggling around on my back in the lawn was a real treat, and in the winter, the world was my snow cone.

Prancer and Perky Puppy. Yup! I heard either one of these names when I’d strut my stuff on the walk down the street. All I had to do is get a whiff of nearby deer, see a stray cat, or catch the glimpse of a squirrel on my radar. Then I’d be off trotting like one of the Clydesdale horses or springing up and down doing my very best Donkey imitation from Shrek. (“Pick me! Oh pick me!”)

Soggy Doggy. I heard this one a lot. Well, what did you expect from living in Northeast Ohio? I think the only place it rains more is Seattle. But the best part was coming back inside after a walk in the rain and getting buffed dry with an old towel. Mom liked it because she said I always smelled like a brand new puppy.

I fondly remember when Mom would address me as “Hey Sleepy Dog” or ask me if I were her “Snuggle Bug.” Ah, “Sweet dreams.” she would say. Now who couldn’t get a good night’s sleep knowing Mom was right there to pat your head or rub your tummy?

There was a whole assortment of names Mom would come up with for any given situation. I loved it when she called me “Good Girl” or “Beautiful.” It wasn’t very often she had to call me a “Bad Girl.” All Mom had to say was, “Uh, oh! What did you do?” and I knew I was in trouble.

Sweetie Pie. Yes, I saved the best for last. This was my all-time favorite, next to my very own “Mollie the Collie” of course. I loved it when Mom came home from work and asked, “How’s my Sweetie Pie?” Oh, I looked forward so much to seeing her come how every day. I sat patiently by the window waiting for her car to pull into the driveway. Mom was pretty amazed that I knew which car was hers. I’d jump up as soon as I saw her. Neighbors and relatives always said I only had eyes for her, and they were right! Nobody gave me as much love or as many hugs as she did.

Yes, it’s all in a name. It paints a picture of a thousand words. Actually, it didn’t matter what Mom called me…I just loved hearing her voice. She could call me anytime day or night and I’d be there. The only thing I ever asked was that she didn’t call me late for supper!

And to that I say, “Woof!”

I Quilt in a Pet-Free Home. How about you?

While reading an advertisement from a quilt enthusiast who does professional quilting out of her home, I noticed the phrase, “I quilt in a pet-free environment.”

“Really?” I thought. I guess “it’s a good thing” as Martha Stewart would say. No pet hair or pet escapades must get in that quilter’s way. Hmmm, I wonder what that’s like?

After I thought about it a while longer, I concluded, “Well, I quilt in a ‘pet-free home, too. Doesn't everyone?”

For instance…

• Pets stay free; no room or board is charged.
• My pets are free to come and go as they please within my home, like my cat who is free to nap on my fleece baby blanket stash.
• My dog is free to jump on my quilted bedspread and lie on her back with her feet in the air.
• My cat is free to jump on my lap as I surf the net for quilting motifs, gadgets, sales, patterns and the like, arch her back to make sure it gets scratched, and then wag her tail like a windshield wiper in front of my face. Better yet, she’s free to walk across my desk and stop to groom herself right in front of my computer monitor.
• My dog is free to curl up on the floor and keep me company as my sewing machine hums along.
• My dog is free to give me “the paw” to tell me it’s time to go outside right when I’m in the middle of piecing a complex block.
• My cat is free to watch my sewing machine as it automatically stitches out a computerized design, and my dog is free to come by and knock the sewing machine plug out of the wall with her plume-swishing tail and watch everything come to a completely dead stop.
• My pets are free to make furry contributions to the lint and thread tails that already attach themselves to my clothes and jackets.
• Best of all, my pets are free to celebrate with me when I finally finish a quilt project and complete one of my many “UFOs.”

So how about it? I quilt in a pet-free environment — do you?

Imprints — Sharing the Story

To understand the origins of my journey with "Mollie the Collie" and her influence on my life, I share here the beginning of our story. Mollie was the inspiration behind the naming of the newsletter publication Imprints for NorthEast Ohio Collie Rescue (NEOCR.org), the group from which she was adopted. Simply said, she has forever left her imprint on my heart, and on the hearts of many others as well. Who knows, maybe she'll leave an imprint on your heart, too.

Imprints — The Story Behind the Name

(by Mollie's Mom....used with permission)

There she was with her picture posted on the internet – gorgeous, young, and with her handsome smile. I’m speaking of course of my “Mollie the Collie,” a tri-color collie/border collie mix. I didn’t even know she wasn’t a full-breed collie. It didn’t matter. She was perfect, just the right size, and beautiful with her stunning long-haired coat.

I couldn’t get her out of my mind. She had already left an impression on me, her lovely face imprinted on my mind. I went back several days in a row checking to make sure she was still posted on the adoption web site. I pondered, “Should I or shouldn’t I take the plunge?” But who could resist that face? It was true: she had already stolen my heart.

So this is how our story began…I decided I wanted a dog, and she needed a home. Or was it the other way around? I needed a dog—a buddy, an everyday canine companion, somebody to go walking with, to fill that “void” in my life, and she wanted a home—one that would care for her, ensure her safety, provide for her health, give her warmth, shelter, food, playtime, and lots of TLC. You know what I mean, give her that “forever home” for which every pet yearns.

As if someone tapped me on the shoulder to say, “Hurry up already,” I decided to make my inquiry about Mollie with NEOCR. If I hesitated, I feared we would both be lost. I sent in an email expressing my interest in Mollie. I explained why I would like a dog. This wasn’t any dog, rather my very first dog that would be all mine. Being the long-time cat lover that I was (and still am), I felt a dog would complete the picture. Having previously rescued my cats, I felt it was Mollie’s turn to be rescued.

I filled out the application, we exchanged some phone calls, I waited for the vet reference check, and then the home visit. How exciting! I was actually adopting a dog! On the night of the home visit, if all went well, Mollie would be welcomed to her new home. And so it happened, and I officially signed the adoption papers. Betty, in all her wisdom, knew we had a match.

I still remember that first night…I could hardly wait for Mollie to arrive. I was so excited. In my anticipation, you would have thought I was bringing home a new baby. Betty and Mollie finally arrived. Mollie pattered up the sidewalk with springs in her feet. I remember how she excitedly did laps around my living room, dining room, and kitchen. Her big, billowy tail eagerly swished back and forth, and swished nearly nonstop since then. She curled up on the floor next to me, indulged me to stroke her long coat, and exposed her soft underbelly for a tummy rub.

Then came a moment of truth: We introduced her to Buffy, my seven-pound calico kitty. Mollie sat quietly on the floor while they sniffed noses. Buffy promptly came around the other side of Mollie, reached up and chomped Mollie’s ear as hard as she could! Mollie never winced, whined, or otherwise complained. She merely got up, walked around the other side of me, and lay down by my side. How gently she reacted, and here I was already expected to be her protector.

My niece, Becky, stopped by that night on her way home from college. Mollie had her first visitor. “Can you believe it? I have a dog!” I exclaimed. We both cooed and fussed over Mollie that first evening. It wasn’t long before Becky and Mollie were pals.

Later that night, I took Mollie on the first of many walks. The neighbors, however, disagree. They maintain that Mollie is the one that walks me every day. From our daily jaunts, we have gotten to know many of the neighbors and resident dogs. Consequently, Mollie has made many friends. In fact, we have a Mollie fan club. I couldn’t get over how one evening while walking the dog, one of the neighbors parked her car, jumped out to pet and hug Mollie, and then jumped back in the car to continue on her way. Wow, we weren’t together that long and we were already doing unofficial dog therapy.

Mollie and I made lots of memories together…like the first time I took her out in the snow. Oh how she frolicked, twirled and pranced about. Her lingering pawprints in the lawn were reminders of her happy spirit. Then we had our soggy-doggy days where pawprints in the kitchen reminded me of our rain-soaked walks. And who could forget the imprints in the comforter to let me know she lounged on the warmth of my freshly-made bed while I was away? We had some anxious memories, too, when I waited for the vet to call and let me know her biopsy was normal. And then there was the night she was really sick, and I slept on the floor next to her so she could wake me to take her outside every hour or so. I told my neighbor recently that I no longer remembered what life was like “B.D.” (before dog).

Yes indeed, Mollie and I made lots of tender memories together. From the time I found her on the internet until she first pattered up my sidewalk, she hasn’t stopped touching my life and leaving me with lasting impressions. Whether it's our daily walks, our playtime, our visits with the neighbors, or our car rides to Grandma’s house, she leaves her imprint on each person’s life. Her abounding exuberance and eagerness to jump in your lap every time she sees you makes her hard to resist or forget.

And it likewise occurred to me that for every dog that crosses NEOCR, there are those rescue volunteers who make it all possible and leave us with lasting impressions for their generous and caring spirits, kind hearts, tender compassion, and welcoming homes. For somewhere in their lives, their stories all started with a dog like Mollie who touched their hearts. And so the circle continues, and so it should, the rescued and the rescuers, the receiving and the giving back.

There are those people, and pets, who come into our lives, touch our hearts, and we are never, ever again the same because of it. We are ever grateful for the gift, thankful for the opportunity, and so much the better because of the experience. For wherever we go, and wherever our rescues go, we continually leave lasting Imprints on each other’s lives.

Upon Arrival

Each morning another calendar day starts. Some days arrive with little fanfare and pass predictably. Others arrive quietly but pass memorably. And I suppose it's fair to say some days even begin in full fire-drill fashion. What we make of these moments become our achievements, however big or small.

I like to pause and ponder over those "Aha!" moments in life from which we are somehow forever changed. In my world, I notice, too, those "giving paws" who have helped me to evolve as a person. And for these cherished opportunities, I am most grateful.

So upon arrival today, I invite you to join me in meandering amongst tales of the heart and tails of the souls as I like to call them. My achievement today was beginning this blog, which is yet another journey. Won't you join me? Smile, laugh, reflect, maybe even shed a tear or two. But be sure to give pause, celebrate, find joy, and let your hearts be touched.