Molson

Hello fellow readers and writers alike.
One of my three brothers said to me recently that I need to start posting my blogs again.
I told him that my blogs lately have been more like a diary and I haven’t been sharing my posts with the World Wide Web.
Many reasons for that, but I cannot see harm into starting a new blog and sincerely trying to post on a daily basis. The theme I chose for this new blog series are about pictures.

Mostly pictures and photos that I have taken and either stored away on my phone - almost to the point of extinction- because let’s face it- no matter how many apps are out there saying that “you can use this app to create hard copies of all your precious memories and moments, and you pay is shipping...” - the majority of us still have thousands of moments and memories that actually get printed out.

But, Sylvia.... I do! I always create something magical with my hard copies of pictures! You should see all the coffee mugs I have given away!

Yes.
Yes.
I know.

But for the other 98% of us, we have managed to squirrel away thousands of images on our various devices...
I am going to try and pick one or two for each post I write.

Perhaps the memory will be a happy one; perhaps it will be a sad one. Or maybe even ones that make no sense to anybody but little ‘ol me...

On that note...

Today’s picture is one my husband John had taken.
We were inside of our veterinarian’s office with our sickly feeling American Bulldog, Molson. We had had him since Olivia was three. But when this picture was taken, a short 10 years have gone by and our MolMol was sick and had been for a few days.

You see, he wasn’t so sick at the beginning. We had just started to noticed that he wasn’t eating as often as he used to. He would still eat. Just for not as long and he certainly wasn’t finishing up his bowl of dog chow. He even stopped begging for pizza crusts.
When he stopped begging, we knew we had to take him in to the doctors to see what was up...

Turns out, we should have taken him as soon as he started to eat less. But I gotta be honest with you. He was still wagging his tail, he was still running and playing. He was still smiling at us. (Yes, our dog was special. He could smile)
However, we were wrong in waiting. Because by the time we had taken him in, his body was in too bad of shape to continue. I won’t go into all details, but it was more humane that day to “put him to sleep” than to “allow him to stay awake.”

None of us had thought that when we helped him into the car that morning that he wouldn’t be returning in that car.

Molson was going to pass on that day.
Yeah right.
Pass on?
Pass on? To where exactly?
That magical farm where all animals go when they just “go to sleep”? Where they can chase cats and rabbits all day long, frolic in tall grasses and eat steak till they burst? Or maybe that place where our other loved ones are.... where they are going to happily help usher your beloved pet through the pearly gates, even though when they died, our Molson didn’t even exist yet.

All of these questions plagued me that day.
Guilt.
Extreme sadness.
Tears the size of oceans falling down our cheeks.
Especially our Olivia. She had just celebrated a birthday a week before this picture was taken. She had even tried sharing her last piece of birthday cake with Molson.
He hadn’t wanted it.
I wonder if any of us had known what was going to be taking place in the near future, would we have insisted he eat that cake?

Watching Molson go that day physically hurt. Physically, I felt his passing. (There’s that word again. Passing)
It was like Molson and Olivia grew up together. They certainly got into trouble together. The sort of trouble a girl and her beloved dog gets into.
I can vividly remember one Christmas season, we had hid all her gifts and all of Molson’s gifts in the same spot of the house. When John and I weren’t paying attention, the two of them each had one of their gifts in their possession. Molson proudly wagged his tail as he munched down on an elephant legged size dog bone. And Olivia was happily - and not even the slightest bit scared of being in trouble for snooping- playing with a doll...

Those two were always in cahoots...

John? He took Molson’s death extremely hard. Perhaps harder than Olivia and myself...
He cried so hard afterwards, that driving the car had to wait till some of the sobbing had ceased...

We had so many memories with Molson. And when I had asked John to quickly snap that picture of me and him together, it was a request made out of sheer panic.
Did I have enough photos of us together? This is the last time that it can be done! He had to hurry up and take one last picture of me and him together before the vet came back in!
Back in.
To assist Molson into “passing away”...

Damn it!
I promise that my next post will be a happier picture...

Anyway, I really wanna tell you that our MolMol will never truly be gone. A few nights after his “passing”, I heard the sound of his long nails on the kitchen floor. Truly, I did. And I even know he came back to bed with us at one time. I felt him jump up into the bed... well, more like the foot of the bed. When I lifted my head to sleepily and groggily say, “Molson, you know you can’t be up here.”, he had jumped down.

So no matter where his spirit ended up; I know he is probably thinking of us, as we are of him. Probably thinking that we gave him the most fun moments of his too short life...

This picture is worthy of a life. A life in which another beautiful creature was loved and cared for in a variety of unique and wonderful and amazing ways. There will never be another MolMol...