They say that all living creatures only have a finite number of heartbeats. When one has used up all one’s beats, one’s life comes to an end. Some have the belief that this is one of the reasons why our beloved family dogs live far shorter lives than we do. Their hearts beats far harder and truer than ours. Dogs have no judgement, see no race and have absolutely no evil in their hearts. The only time we can expect to see something negative come out of a helped family dog is if you’re foolish enough to threaten one of their pack, or family members. That’s when you’ve effective fucked around and found out and likely deserve what you get. But I digress…
I never had pets growing up. My mother was mysteriously and conveniently allergic to every animal that you can pet. We had fish but frankly, if you can flush it, I never really felt that it counted. I’ve always held the belief that having a pet as a child has the potential to impart a number of important growing tools for a kid. Besides teaching routine, responsibility and discipline, a dog will also provide a child with a sense of bonding and attachment. Dogs truly are one of the very few creatures that can love unconditionally and without expectation. It took me a few days to get here and be able to write this. Last Friday, I had to say goodbye to the world’s best dog.
I first met Molly when I was posted in a small, southern Saskatchewan town. As the town had no bylaw enforcement, we were frequently called upon for bylaw matters, which included animal control. One of the locals had broken up with her husband and he left his dogs behind. She would normally put the dog in the backyard while she went off to work but after a short while, she figured out a way to shimmy out of the yard and would take little walkabouts throughout the town. Molly was always a gentle soul, wagging her tail and walking up to everyone who called out to her. I got used to a routine where I would pull up in my police vehicle, call her over and she would gleefully hop into my back seat without objection. I would then bring her home and put her in her back yard. Wash, rinse and repeat.
After a few weeks, the lady who had Molly posted on Facebook that she was moving out of the house and would have to surrender the dog to a shelter and as she couldn’t bring her into her rental. I was very aware that the likelihood of finding a good home when going into a shelter was unlikely. Not willing to have Molly’s life ended prematurely, I spoke with my wife and she agreed that we could take Molly in. We have a fully fenced in back yard, and open empty lot on the northern side of our house and plenty of space inside, including a finished basement. Since I had never had a dog before, there were periods of learning and adjustment, including discovering her rampant fear of thunder, her strange affinity to my wife’s slippers and her frequent need to be petted and shown affection.
Soon after, my wife and I welcomed our first son, Nathan. Molly took to Nathan and became an ad hoc protector. She would sleep under his crib at night and curl up close whenever I’d have him in his slumber chair. Molly followed everywhere we went and we even had a futon she slept on, which included a nightly routine of tucking her in. She became an immediate member of the family and everyone who met her on our walks took to her immediately and loved her. Molly was always gentle, always quiet and I can count on one hand the number of times she ever barked for any reason. I used to love coming home from work where she would bolt out the door and chase each other around the empty lot until my chunky ass got tired.
Molly travelled with us when we transferred to Regina. Our new house unfortunately didn’t have a fenced in back yard and for the first time, we had to tether her when we put her out. She wasn’t pleased with this but still enjoy bolting and chasing birds and squirrels around the yard. After a few years in Regina, our life situation changed. We had our second son, Alexander, coming along. Molly was getting up in age and her tolerance for the daily grind of life was becoming difficult. Realistically, we were never really certain how old Molly actually was. The lady we got her from “thought” that she was at least 4 or 5 when she came to us, which would have put her at about 10 years old by the time our second son was born.
Given this and a number of different factors, we decided we needed alternate arrangements. Luckily, my wife’s family has a farm. ever hear that the dog was sent up to the farm? This is literally what we did. My in-laws had a fenced in back yard, a large farm yard with plenty of opportunity to run and chase gophers and squirrels. Plus, I would get to see Molly any time we visited family. Despite the fact that Molly would have her home life changed for at least third time in her life, it was a win/win.
Molly has spent the past five years in the care of my mother-in-law. She took to her like she’s taken to everyone. She lived a god life and I like to think we did the best we could for her. I often think about where Molly would have ended up, had we not taken her in when the previous home gave her up. I’m glad we were able to keep her in a comfortable home and surrounded by people who loved her. Unfortunately and as is the case with everyone in life, time caught up to her. in the past year, her golden fur turned white. Her legs began to fail and could no longer support her. Like any loving family, we began to have the difficult conversations regarding what next steps may eventually be required.
in recent months, Molly also became incontinent. For anyone who’s ever had a pet, while it’s totally normal for there to be an occasional “accident” in the house, it becomes an obvious sign of an age issue that could no longer be ignored. During a recent trip to our family’s home, I asked that inquiries be made for final arrangements for Molly. I’ve come to find that most people view pets through one of two lenses; either they assume it’s “just an animal” (in which case, go fuck yourself) or they understand that when a pet becomes a part of the family, losing that pet can be as traumatic as any other loved one dying.
I was travelling for work last week when Molly’s appointment with her vet was scheduled. I reached Kindersley around lunch time after days of travelling and staying in a hotel. As expected, Molly greeted me at the door and I was given plenty of head bumps and sniffs while I gave her pets and cuddles. It only took a few minutes for her body to grow exhausted and she had to lie back down on her doggy bed. I had a few hours to spend with her. While she spent most of that time snoring and sleeping at my feet, I got see her, tell stories about her and take her for a short walk. Granted, she could barely walk out the back gate of the yard and up to the truck before needing to be carried but I got to take her for a walk one last time.
We had to pick her up and carefully load her into the back seat of my mother-in-law’s truck. She went in willingly enough. I mean, what dog doesn’t LOVE a car ride, right? We drove in silence, with the exception of my mother-in-law asking if I’d wanted to drive and my commenting on how I was able to look around and see what’s changed in Kindersley in recent years. We arrived at the vet clinic and lifted her out of the truck. The side door opened and Molly willingly walked up to the vet tech, tail wagging with familiarity. Much as she had been her entire life, she was accepting and friendly of everyone she encountered, even in the advent of what would come next.
The difficult part for a dog is that unlike a person, they can’t tell us what’s wrong, what hurts and what the problem may be. It leaves their loved ones with the unfortunate responsibility of deciding that they’ve reach the end of this life for them. I’ve never had to experience of having a pet put down. I have to confess that my experience was far different from how I’ve had it described by others. The staff were completely transparent, explaining every step and wouldn’t take any of said steps without telling us first. She was given a sedative/pain killer that would relax her and numb any joint or limb pain that she was experiencing. It only took a couple of minutes for her to once agin be snoring at my feet.
Once the staff brought her into the procedure room, it was over within a couple of minutes. Given how peacefully and calmly she left this world, I felt we should all be so lucky. Even the vet staff all knew Molly, and commented on how they were one of their favourite visitors due to her friendliness, gentleness and demeanour. And that’s the mark she made on everyone she met. She was always the friendliest. She was the best doggy in the world. She wasn’t man’s best friend. She was EVERYONE’s best friend. It’s true what they say; we don’t deserve dogs.
I may never know everything that Molly had been through in her life. The first years of her life will forever be a mystery. While there is some possibility that her first years were difficult, she showed no signs of it throughout the years she was with us. And in one brief moment, it was over. Molly’s heart struck its last beat. But to the end, it beat strong and true with nothing but affection for those who cared for her. A finite number of heart beats. The story of everyone’s life always begins and ends in exactly the same way. It’s how we fill the chapters in between that make each of us unique. And Molly’s story was a solid one. Until we meet again, fur baby. ☯️
The Blogging Buddhist 