Two Pounds of Hope - The Little Dog Who Lived

When I think about my favorite memory with my dog, I’m not sure if there is an exact one that I can pinpoint.

I had never owned a dog before. At least not since I was an infant and had no memory of it. My mom and step-dad both worked time-consuming jobs that were far from home, so having a dog to grow up with wasn’t an option. I dreamt of it, I wished for it, but I knew that it wasn’t going to happen.

Then, life changed. Life always changes. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, sometimes it’s just change.

In the blink of an eye, I went from living in the country with my mom and step-dad along with my ginormous cat, to living in the suburbs with my mom and also my ginormous cat. The house was big, but it was empty. It was quiet to the point where the silence nearly drove you deaf. The hardwood floors were crying for someone, anyone to make a sound.

At twelve years old, I browsed the internet for pictures of puppies — as twelve year old girls do. I showed my mom a couple, we ooh’ed and ahh’ed over a couple of them. It was never a dream that we had a chance to indulge in.

Until one day.

“Let’s go to the pet store… just for the hell of it.” My mom had said. That alone made me think that I was dreaming. As a kid, if I even so much as looked at a goldfish at the fair, it was an automatic ‘no’ from my mom. To hear her tell me that we were going to go look at tiny, fluffy, intoxicatingly adorable puppies? If it was a dream, I didn’t wanna wake up.

I remember spotting her. As if the entire pet store faded away as soon as I laid eyes on her. She was in a cage on the top shelf and we locked eyes. I just knew right then and there. They placed her in my arms and honestly, she could’ve fit into the palm of my hand. I wanted to set her down to play with her on the floor but other people were beginning to gather around. My mom grabbed my arm and told me to hold on tight to her. I had no clue that if I set her down, I might not be able to pick her up again.

She was the sweetest little thing I had ever seen. Even holding her for two minutes made me think that I couldn’t remember life before her. She was so small in my arms, it was like holding a stuffed animal. I think that was the first time in my life that I had ever felt a rush of love in my veins. Real love. We bonded at that moment.

It was official, she was ours. Our little Molly.

I couldn’t sleep that entire night with her on my bed. I even put her crate on my bed and kept opening it so she could wiggle around on my blankets.

In the past, I had pranked my friends into thinking that I had gotten a dog. They believed it at first, but I knew I would never get away with it again. Not unless I had proof. So, I put her on my infamous patterned comforter and took as many pictures as I could. I sent them to my best friend, and her reaction was amazing. She had run screaming to her mom “They got a dog! I know it’s true because it’s her blanket that the dog is sitting on!” As if my friend had read my mind to know that was the signal that this was real.

It was glamorous for the first 36 hours. Then, it wasn’t.

My little Molly, who weighed about 2 and a half pounds, was dying. Back then, I was too young to know about puppy mills and pet shops. We were naive. We thought that because they had the best and most reputable breeds that the same reputation would extend to them as a pet store.

At first we thought she was just tired. She was a puppy who had just come to her forever home, she must’ve been exhausted. We called the pet shop and they gave us this strange paste to feed her, they told us that sometimes puppies’ blood sugar can crash and that it would make her feel better. We tried, we really did. We prayed that it was exhaustion, it was her food, it was this or that.

But then there was blood, and so much of it. She looked so scared; almost as scared as I felt.

I remember the look of urgency on the vet’s face when we brought her in. I, a scared twelve year old, stood beside my dog who was shaking on the table. She was so sick in every way possible. The vet warned us with a broken heart and heavy words that we shouldn’t expect her to live. It wasn’t Parvo - the usual suspect. It was mistreatment by the pet store. They had been feeding my 2.7lb puppy adult dog food. It had torn her stomach and intestines apart and she was dying.

“It’s a shot in the dark, but we can try.” The vet had said when we asked if there was any chance that we could save her. I may have only been a kid, but I was on a mission to save this puppy. In such a short time, she had brought so much love and light into our life. I was not going to give up on her.

Thus began my favorite memory.

We took her home with a box of medical equipment and a prayer. My favorite memory is looking at her and promising that I would never give up on her.

Three types of antibiotics, several times a day, along with antibiotic puppy food that would need to be spoon fed to her. That’s what we did, every single day for months. We nursed this little baby back to health. She became the smartest, most loving dog with the cutest personality. I could tell just from the way she took her medicine. We would always do the kind that she hated first because the third syringe of medication going into her mouth was her favorite. She became smart enough to know that if she took the not-so-good tasting medicine first, the better-tasting medicine would be like a reward.

Slowly but surely, she came back to us. We learned that she didn’t need to be potty trained. Not that the pet store had trained her. Rather, she just preferred to do her business outside. She attached to my mom at the hip and hasn’t let go since. We even got a special airport-issued doggy bag that she traveled in with us when we flew to Georgia to see my grandparents. Every time she saw that yellow bag, she knew we were going to visit Nonnie and PopPop on the beach.

She beat the odds. She beat the sympathetic faces of several vet techs who told us that we should say our goodbyes. Not a day goes by where she lets you forget it either.

2.7lbs grew into a strong and healthy 7lbs of fluff and love. She sleeps in my mom's bed every single night, right under the covers. She loves to be the big spoon when she cuddles, but I think she just loves to kick my back. She knows so many tricks and when we say that we’re running to the store, she knows we’re coming back with treats. She has my entire trust, knowing that she would never bite me even if she wanted to. Every morning I wake up and I’m greeted with love and kisses. She bounces up and down when she wants to get under the blankets - or as we call it ‘50 CC’s of Blankie - Stat!’

There is no such thing as a bad day when Molly is in the room.

Her communication and attitude is always so perfectly relayed to those around her. You know when she’s happy and ready to play, you know when she’s grumpy and would rather be curled up in bed. Oh, she loves being in bed. She would spend all day in bed if she could, but she can’t because she has a job of being the yard supervisor. That’s a job she takes very seriously. She sits up in her watchtower (otherwise known as our deck) and alerts the neighborhood of any suspicious activity. She reminds us not to rush on folding laundry because she appreciates the mountain of clothes she can bury herself into.

A few years later, we were ready for another addition to the household. Except this time, we knew the dangers of puppy mills and pet stores. So, we went in a different direction. Rosie Mae, a three-time visitor of our local shelter came home with us and brought us more joy and happiness. Of course, Molly will always be in charge - we joke. Rosie might be bigger and maybe a little goofier, but Molly welcomed her into our home in her own ways.

Despite having bought my dog at a pet store, I still advocate for Adopt-Don't-Shop. I still consider her a rescue since that’s precisely what we did with her. However, I think both of them may have actually rescued me. We nursed Molly back to health, and we taught Rosie what a home full of love was like.

Every single day is a day that I thank my lucky stars that I met my Molly. Even though she has bonded to my mother like glue, she’ll always be my baby. Every wag of her tail is something I celebrate, every new trick and every mid-day snuggle. I never thought that a tiny little animal could teach me so much, but she did. She taught me hope, she taught me patience, she taught me to accept love. She taught me to never underestimate the power of perseverance because when I look at her, that’s all I see.

I see a puppy who took a chance and put some faith in me when the situation was at its worst. I see a little dog full of so much love and the ability to calm anyone she’s ever around. I see the world of happiness that she brings to my mom.

When I look at her, every memory is my favorite memory.

Now, let the Molly Montage roll