Happy birthday, little dog!

Molly turns 10 years old on St. Patrick's day this year. And make no mistake about it, she's my dog. In her little world, the ladder looks something like this: Molly, Mom, (this one is tricky...Vickie or Marisa) friends, bunnies, the guy who feeds her, his offspring. She ranks the guy who feeds her second to the bottom because he shoots guns, just to fray her nerves. If he didn't distribute dog food, he wouldn't make the ladder at all. The kids are there because they drop food...there's really no other reason to have kids around, because they shriek unexpectedly, and take the good spots on the couch and bed.

Molly knows how to roll over, shake, balance a treatie on her nose until she gets the nod, sit and down by hand commands, the alphabet. I can ask her if she likes the Broncos?...no response....the Cowboys?....no response....San Fransisco?....barking and some excitement, so a treatie. I can shuffle the treatie under my hand and she'll tap the right one. When she needs to go out at night, she "whispers" her wuff, and if given the shush signal, can bark with her mouth closed. We spent a lot of time together, alone, in a trailer house those first couple of years!

The week Angus was born, Maggie was horribly sick and it was harvest time. I had to take the kids to Miles City to the doctor...Angus was only 4 days old...and they wanted to hospitalize Maggie, because of dehydration and fever. I had had NO sleep, and was nearly wild with worry, when Wayland called and said, " I ran over your dog. With the loaded grain truck. I don't think she's going to make it." My mom and sister drove my car north, and met him, and picked up my dog to bring to Miles City to the vet, while I nursed the babies, and cried, and prayed. Wayland had given me enough information that I was sure I wouldn't see her alive, but when I got to the vet's, they said they couldn't find anything broken, and she was trying to wiggle at me! We finally got home that night, and Wayland assured me he had completely and accidently run right square over her body, because he felt the speed bump sort of feeling in the truck.

Now, the crazy thing is that I truly believe God had His hand over that little dog, because I couldn't take another thing, not one more thing. I've not seen miracles, much, or maybe never recognized them until later, and I will never understand why a dog's life was spared, but others lose those people dearest to them. She's been my constant sidekick for 10 years, now, and I'm grateful everyday for her little presence in my life.