In loving memory of Molson

Molson was my teddy bear. She was a real lady, who belonged on a sofa somewhere in a Parisian salon of the late eighteenth century. In her old age she became slow and arthritic, but kept on looking like an adorable puppy.

Molson thought that she was the smartest dog ever. She had a tendency to guilt me into things. She would corner me in the kitchen, make a sad face and like an idiot I fed her cookies. Sometimes she licked the floor right next to where I was eating, to make me feel like I'm a horrible person who enjoyed her meal, while her dog had to lick the floor in order to find some crumbs...

When I got my cat Tisha Molson became jealous of him. She was trying to eat all of his food. I thought that she had a secret plan to starve him to death. Eventually, Molson learned how to cope with his existence. Tisha in his turn was always very respectful towards her.

For the longest time I was really afraid that if Molson became sick she would have to be put to sleep. I couldn't bare the thought that once again I might have to be notified ahead of time when someone that I love will die. I prayed for Molson to die on her own when her time comes. I should've been more specific, because Molson died on my 29th birthday. I came home from NY and I knew right away that it will be her last day. I think she waited for me to come home so that she could die in my presence. Screaming on top of her lungs from pain she kept on crawling towards the door to die outside. I couldn't find a vet to come over to take away her suffering. I felt helpless. All I could do is lay down next to her and wait. Molson died in the same spot on the porch where she used to take her naps. She was almost fourteen years old, but looked like a little sleeping pup. I thought that my heart will break. Of course I survived and in less than a month Molson send Ginger my way or so I would like to believe...