Paws on My Heart

If it were not for Mollee and Dexter, I would not be alive today. Earlier this year, I was diagnosed with chronic PTSD, anxiety, and depression because of my time in the military. Over the years of having Mollee and Dexter, I did not know for sure I had PTSD until after Mollee passed away last November. My family and friends love me but only one understands me and she is not located extremely close to me, so Mollee and Dexter have been my support system for over a decade.

Mollee Mae and Dexter James were a year apart and Mollee made sure Dexter always knew she was the oldest. Mollee, a boxer mix that weighed about eighty pounds, was the one that gave kisses, was extremely outgoing, would jump up to kiss my face, greet me at the door while full-on jumping at me, and overall, the most affectionate dog…except, she hated to cuddle. Dexter, a German Shepherd mix that also weighed about eighty pounds, on the other hand, is the dog who loves to cuddle up beside me in the chair or bed, the grumbler and talker but he rarely gives kisses, maybe twice a year he will lick me, he is the lazy one who prefers to lay in the sunlight and sleep all the time. They, unknowingly to me at the time, worked together to keep me alive and to provide me with as much support as they could.

My favorite memory of Mollee is that anytime I was drunk, severely depressed, ready to be gone from this life and at my absolute limits, she knew it. She would walk or run up to me and just start covering my face in kisses or she would randomly walk by and lick my hand, for no other reason than for me to know that they loved me. She did this all the time, if I was angry, sad, depressed, it did not matter, she was always right there to lend me support. Mollee never had training as a support dog, but she knew what she was doing. One day, I wanted to lay in bed all day after having let them out, and Mollee was not having any part of it. She kept walking on the bed and would get in my face to give me kisses, even if I pushed her away, she came back within seconds. She did this until I got my butt out of bed.

Dexter, now you might be wondering what he would do, well I will tell you. He will walk up to me and slam his entire body weight sideways into my legs, chest or whatever he can reach. He will slam his ginormous head into mine or force it under mine to make sure I was laying on his head. Sometimes he will beat me to bed, lay across the pillows and force me to use him as a pillow. Dexter is the one who recognizes my anxiety and depression. When my anxiety is sky high, he is right there, touching me, giving me something to distract me from my own head and body. He gets very vocal and grumbly, like a grumpy old man does. When my depression is bad, he will jump in my recliner and lay beside me, then place his head on my chest and just exist knowing that just his touch reminds me I have something to live for. He will not force me out of bed like Mollee would but instead he comforts me, allows me to feel my feelings, to calm down and then I will get up on my own.

There is something magical about the love of a dog and I have been so fortunate to experience the unconditional love that Mollee gave me and to still experience the love I get from Dexter. I do not take lightly that they have saved my life more times than I have ever told anyone…whether it is guilt, shame, embarrassment, I am not sure. I have always been very private about my struggles but as I try to heal and learn more about myself, the more I seem to talk about it to try and let others know it is ok to talk about it.

Their existence and impact they have had on my life, let alone the number of times they have saved my life, is my favorite memory of Mollee and Dexter and I am eternally grateful to them for that. They created a purpose for me when I had none. Being responsible for them made me get out of bed every single day, they had to go out, they had to eat and drink and just because I did not want to exist, did not mean I would allow myself to treat them poorly. Knowing they would be devastated and feel responsible if I took my own life, I never did it. I am still alive because of them, and I cannot think of a greater memory than that.