Miracle of Life

Tonight we walked Vegas around the block. We had become lazy about this activity since moving into our old 1926 house, complete with fenced in yard. We let Molly and Vegas entertain each other, taunt each other with the stuffed toys and tennis balls. Molly's game was always keep away. She would grab a stuffed cow and drag it over Vegas' face back and forth until Vegas relented and went after Molly and the stuffed cow. The game would last longer if one of us would egg them on. "Vegas - get it!" or "Go Molly!"

Molly was my velcro girl that would lie outside the bathroom door, nose on the front paws, waiting for me to finish my bath. I would lament that I could get no more than three feet away from that cold nose at any given moment. Tonight all I want is to be tripping over her in the kitchen. I expect to see her everywhere because everywhere is exactly where she was.

Vegas was with Molly when she died so she's aware that she's gone, on some dog level. But over the weekend Vegas would bound outside and then realizing Molly was not going to head-butt her or pounce on her, slowly laid down in the dirt. She had a lonesome look about her but perhaps that was my broken heart I was seeing.

So tonight we walked Molly's partner in crime, a Golden Retriever, named Vegas. As soon as Vegas saw the leash, she was excited. As we walked she danced in the cold, wet, fall leaves, turning over as many as possible with her big lion shaped paws. She searched vigorously near the tennis courts for wayward tennis balls. She walked tall with her tail up, swinging her hips as only Vegas can do. Vegas was happy.

We will get through this one walk at a time.

I love you Molly and I am so very grateful you chose this Iowa girl to rescue.