Molly

I met a dog today. (Go figure, right?) For the purpose of this blog, I shall call her Molly.

Molly was a Saint Bernard that we had not seen previously. She was an outdoor dog, and had mud on her paws and burrs in her fur from exploring, but was not neglected. I was leery of her at first, due to her size, illness, and her unknown temperament. (THE VET is a scary, unknown entity for dogs and cats, people. Fluffy may be nice at home, but a psychopath when being restrained for his annual vaccinations...therefore, I approach MOST animals with caution. Especially ones that could fit my head in their mouths.) We slowly walked to the scale, and she needed help from two of us to get her big self up there. We laboriously meandered to the treatment room and waited for the doctor to examine her. When climbing up on the lift table proved to be entirely too much work for this geriatric, large breed dog, we sat down on the floor together. Molly smelled. Molly was dirty. Molly drooled. I'm pretty sure Molly gave me a flea or two.

Molly greeted each new person and demanded proper pets. Molly gave kisses. Molly crossed her front paws and put her head on my knee and closed her eyes. Molly and I discussed different petting techniques and the meaning of life. Molly waited patiently for her owner to make a decision. Molly didn't even flinch when a large IV catheter was placed in her front leg. Molly rode the gurney back to her room to see her dad.

Molly was very sick, and Molly's dad was very sad.

Our job sucks sometimes, but I'm glad to have met Molly.