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In memory of Molly, sometimes known as
Thunderpaws Squirrelbane, but more properly Molly Lagace-Faughnan. Molly was born towards the end of December 1989; in February of 1990 we adopted her from the Delta County pound. She died on December 1st 2004, four weeks short of her 15th birthday. I'll say she was 15, she earned that. Molly was not a lapdog, or even a foot dog. She loved obedience training, but she wasn't big on obedience. She favored command. She was a water and woods kind of dog; I remember her best racing around a mountain bike, leaping over logs, swimming and running around Portage Point just east of Escanaba, Michigan. In her prime she'd harness up and pull a skier for hours in deep snow, in her middle years she ran by my bicycle, in her twilight she rode in the bike trailer, often pulled by Emily. She led her pack into the world outside; she didn't care much for the indoors. Snow and wind, mountain and water. She had a healthy, active, and long life. At age 5 high altitude heat stroke almost left her in the Rocky mountains, but she walked out -- albeit slowly. At age 14 she was ailing with a large liver mass. That was her greatest game. Grieving the imminent death of our beloved pup, we lavished all manner of love and attention upon her. We cooked her lamb three times a day. Day after day after day after week after month. As she lost weight she became more lively and active, as though she was aging in reverse. She played her role to the hilt. Her inner Wolf rejoiced at all those lambs. Her end was chosen well. She was very thin but playful two days before she died, the last picture on the left was taken that day. She spent a day resting and moving little, yet still smiling to greet her well wishers and acknowledge the love of her Pack -- including her three human siblings, her friend Christina, and her adopted Pack walkers Jim and Peter. Billions of people and dogs and mice and cats have died in the past few epochs. Few of those have managed so blessed a life and death. Fewer still have had their own web memorial. She was a damned lucky dog; though she was too much of an aristocrat to consider fortune any less than her due. Molly was our first pup. She made us a Pack. She taught us the way of the dog; to love the moment, to remember the scents that linger, and to live in the outside. We miss her. PS. Here's Molly's CV. |
