Sunday, November 27, 2011

Homeward Bound

My dog, Mollie, is 12 years old - which makes her 84 in dog years! Yes, she is the best. We got her the day my Mom, Dad, brothers and I pressed our hands into the wet cement outside our new house in 1999. I put my hand over the imprint the other day, and it's about twice as big as that imprint. At that time, Mollie was a little puppy with really sharp teeth and really sharp making-everyone-melt-even-when-she-tore-up-the-yard skills. She was one when I was 12. Now's she's 12, and I'm twice her age. But she's so much wiser. I suppose that might be why she's got 7 times the wisdom - and maybe why they figure dog years by that number. Coming home to her stooped on the porch is a big comfort. This time, for Thanksgiving break, it's almost as if she knew how dreadfully much I had missed her and home, and being able to look at the handprints of my family in the cement anytime I want.

I realized that dogs I've seen elsewhere, (all of which I like to imagine are Mollie's good long lost friends - the kid in me) are quick to become my friends, too. I wouldn't be as joyful without them around. I think their innocence makes me feel like a kid again.

"You've learned all you need to know, Chance. Now all you need to learn is how to say goodbye." - Shadow, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey
 Duke: Nebraska, 1991

Mollie: Nebraska, 2008

Unknown: Madrid, 2009

Unknown: Barcelona, 2009

  Rocco: Annapolis, 2010

Daisy: Annapolis, 2010

Unknown: New York City, 2011

Petra: St. Louis, 2011

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