Good Golly Miss Molly Survied

It’s close to the anniversary since I found Molly, my little dog. Those of you who knew me five years ago know about her condition. I honestly believe she was a day or two away from death. Covered in mange; (found out it was the genetic mange) starving; sick; eyes crusted and leaking mucus, and she was skin and fur on bones. She was too weak to stand for more than a few minutes. She was terrified of me but too weak to run. I carried her to my car and she plopped down on the back floorboard—-too weak to even hold up her head.
I always had figured that maybe she hid down by the creek banks and the flood had driven her out.
I refused to name her for the first week because I didn’t expect her to live. My brother told me, “Sis, I wouldn’t get my hopes up with that dog. She’s in pretty bad shape.” After a week I named her Molly because I said, “Good golly, it looks like Miss Molly is going to survive.” The first two months I had her she would slink away and hide everytime I picked up a broom.
In a few days it will be five years she’s been with me. In that time, we’ve lost Lola, my beloved Great Dane, and gained a bunch of cats. And we’ve had family move in and move back out; and we now have my mom here.
The morning I found her I had a strong feeling that I was suppose to be at that place at that time for a reason. There was a reason the bus didn’t show up in Tulsa which caused me to drive to Okmulgee.
Five years and this is what that little mange covered, starving dog had to go through the night before I found her.,_2007_okmulgee,_ok_flood.htm
Here’s to many more years with Molly!


One thought on “Good Golly Miss Molly Survied

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  1. Molly is a testament to the spirit of love, I believe. I can still see her little pit bull head resting on the hump of the floorboard. I stopped for coffee and when she looked at me her eyes seemed to be saying, “thank you”. Some people, maybe most, might believe I’m anthropomorphizing that moment. I’m not. Animals know, understand, and feel much more than we humans give them credit. That is what my spirit tells me, and has always told me.

    When I made the decision to bring her to my home I honesty thought I would be taking her to my vet to be euthanized. I didn’t really want a second dog. I just wanted this pitiful dog to have a kind hand, a loving glance and a little bit of dignity in death, because dignity didn’t appear to have ever been present in her young life.

    When I first tried to feed her she refused the food. That didn’t surprise me, and it was what I expected. I told myself I’d give her one week before I took her to vet to be euthanized. I made her a bed in the shade, and tried to get her as comfortable as possible before I made the drive back to work. A bit of the canned dog food that I had dished out for her fell from the spoon onto the ground. She ate it! That’s when I realized she probably had never eaten out of a dish. I placed more dog food on the ground. She ate it.

    Each day she grew stronger. All it took was regular meals and clean water. Everyday when I got home from work I’d flush hear eyes with clean water, clear water. That simple thing stopped the drainage of mucous from her eyes. I bathed her three times the first week. The first time she was too weak to struggle; the second time she had enough strength to tug just a tad; the third time she resisted with some force. I laughed and laughed because that was the sign I needed to name her.

    It was Molly who made the decision to survive. I think, it was her spirit and desire to give thanks to me for giving her a chance.


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