August 19, 2018

letter to molly

Dear Molly,

First, I would like to say that it's unfortunate that you managed to tip my cup of coffee into that tray a few weeks ago, and after consuming every illicit drop with vigor, acquired what appears to be a keen taste for it.  It is further regrettable that the coffee was not decaf.  Watching you run laps around the yard was entertaining, to say the least.  However, it would be appreciated if you could abandon the seek-and-destroy mentality you now manifest regarding our coffee cups, everywhere in the house.

You're wicked smart and our attempts to cover the ceramic mugs with various objects have proven vain.  If we place them on high shelves, then we can't reach them ourselves, and the exercise is self-defeating.

We need you to un-learn coffee, please.

(Note:  By way of extrapolation, this request extends to bagels.  I tire of cleaning cream cheese off my laptop keyboard.)

I've been Googling this morning on the subject on whether the tiny pieces of cloth you're ingesting when ripping up toys - and this includes tennis ball skins, terry cloth toys, and bits of rope - will pass through you instead of causing an obstructive blockage.  The consensus seems to be that in moderation, this is normal, but it's still going to stress us out.

My main reason for writing, though, is to ask that you dial down the blatant manipulation achieved by being cute.  Pouncing on tiny grasshoppers in the front yard of the Lodge is acceptable employment of your cuteness, as is tilting your head with pointed ears and a wrinkled brow of concern when someone plays dog noises on YouTube or hits keys on the piano.  However, this pattern of jumping up beside one of us on the sofa and then quickly wriggling into a curled-up, snuggly ball of sudden puppy exhaustion is diabolical.  It cannot be resisted, though our conscious minds scream the logic of negative precedent and lost opportunities for training and reinforcement and the sudden danger to our down-filled throw pillows.

It seems to have already solidified as a permissible behavior, thanks to your wiles, such that last night, I found myself lying down cuddled up with you, lazily rubbing your soft belly as we both dozed lightly, watching you while you dreamed with twitching paws and sniffing nose.  You really do enjoy those grasshoppers, don't you?

I've never slept with dogs in the bed before, though I know this is widely accepted behavior among many persons.  I'm wary of its effect on my sleep, which has suffered lately because of work stress, but I can see that there is no going back.  I'd just like you to know that being still and calm and sleeping through the night is cute.  Incredibly cute.  You just wouldn't believe how cute it is.  Try it out.


Lille S. God-Damn-It*

p.s.  Could you please stop changing color?  Every day there are new markings on you, more and more German shepherd traits emerging.  We can't keep up.

*Our dogs' surname is God-Damn-It.  We frequently call them by their full names.


  1. Oh, good! I'm so glad I'm not the only one going through this! What would I do without all of your sage advice via your love for Molly? So, at present, Buddy has eaten my bed pillow/pillowcase, well -- at least until I realized that he was chewing on it and then made him get off the bed with "Bad, Dog! Bad, Bad, Bad Dog!" Then he looked at me with those brown eyes of his and I forgave him immediately and he was back up on the bed with a toy. Still, I hate unmatching pillowcases! And I don't want to get a brand new set of sheets for one effing pillow case! And then Buddy ate my purse! Well, not the whole thing. Just enough of it so that I can no longer use it. Then he looked at me like, "Oh, this was off-limits?! I thought it was a toy! Damn, I could have sworn...are you sure? No? Oops." But the final straw was when he ate my favorite and very expensive bra! Now I'm wearing bras that are not nearly as comfortable, which make me irritable. But the tits have to have support, so tit is what tit is. Sorry, I know you hate puns. See what Bud is doing to me? Even so, I sing to him, "Bud, Bud, Bud...all you need is Bud, Bud is all you need" -- to the theme of "All You Need is Love" by The Beatles and HE LOVES THIS (and no one likes my singing, let alone loves my singing!) So, along with being so freaking adorable and lovable that it hurts, he accepts me unconditionally in a way that no human ever has (including our cats.) Yep, there is no going back now. My daughter says that she is getting us dog lessons for Christmas. Sigh. We need them now. So, to rephrase, All we need is Bud (with dog lessons!)

    Face it, Lille, we are dog moms who love our babies no matter that "this is another fine mess they've gotten us into."

    Also, I am now damned and determined to keep Buddy away from discovering coffee! I can't even imagine!


  2. We keep a running financial tab on the dogs ... Chester was close to $9K because of double knee replacements ... Rose ate the staircase and part of the coffee table, and had a lesser surgery, and half the back yard fence is her fault, so she's hovering around $6K ... Molly has a lot of catching up to do, with only vet bills, but if she ate my bra I would be super-pissed!

    Oh, and then there's Rose and the down comforter, which is now called the Franken-Blanket because of how many times I've patched it back up with needle and thread and rather a lot of little feathers ....

    Then they look at you, and ... yeah.