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Molly, 1990-1997


maggiesmommy
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Molly was the first animal I ever truly loved, and she's the reason I love border collies as much as I do. My dad found her as a puppy after she had been hit by a car near his farm in rural AL. He paid almost $2,000 for veterinary care for her and put notices in the paper and on fliers all over town asking who she belonged to, since she was clearly a purebred. No one ever responded, and my dad was in love with her, so he decided to keep her.

After she recovered, my dad started using her to herd his small flock of sheep, and she took to it instantly. He later bought two more working-stock border collies and started a small-scale breeding project. Border collies became his obsession. Although his BCs were wonderful, none of them were like Molly.

Molly was constantly by my side when I was a young child. was only three when my dad got her, but he trusted her to "babysit" me by gently herding me if I wandered toward the road. (I don't recommend it, but she was an amazing babysitter.)

One of my most vivid memories of Molly's devotion to me happened when I was five. A stray dog had wandered onto my dad's property and I was playing outside alone. I wanted to befriend him, so, being a typical kid, I approached him with outstretched arms. He immediately flipped a switch and poised himself to attack, and he was in the middle of leaping toward me when Molly dashed in between us and fought him. He was covered in blood by the time Molly was done with him. My dad came outside, saw what happened, and took both dogs to the vet. The stray had several broken bones and serious bite injuries but Molly was pretty much completely unharmed. Having the soft spot for strays that my dad had-- and knowing it would be put down if he didn't take him in-- my dad ended up letting the dog live in his pasture, but the dog never again tried to come anywhere near me or any of the other kids in my family. Border collies aren't normally used for defense, but Molly knew that he was going to hurt one of her "pups" and went ballistic on him.

Molly remained the smartest, sweetest, most loyal dog I ever knew until the day she died, just after my tenth birthday. My dad had taken her out with us on a fishing trip, which was his birthday present to me, and we didn't know she got bitten by a water moccasin on our last day there. She seemed okay, but when we put her to bed that evening, she was acting sluggish. The next morning, I found her dead, with her front leg severely swollen. That was the only time in my entire life that I've seen my father cry.

I loved many of the other dogs I had as a kid, especially Molly's puppies, but none of them were ever as good as Molly. I still miss her terribly. My dog Maggie reminds me a lot of Molly in many ways, and it's kind of bittersweet. It hurts to love an animal so much but to know that their lives, compared to ours, are so short. :(

RIP, Molly. I still remember you every day.

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