“Molly…” 

“Yes, daddy?”

“A box of salmon flavored treats just arrived from Amazon.”

“Really? That’s great. I’d love a salmon flavored treat.”

“Molly…”

“Yes?” She batted her blue eyes at me.

“I didn’t order any salmon flavored treats on Amazon.”

“Gee, they must have known I like those and just sent them.” She asserted. “Their AI really knows a lot about us, huh.”

“Molly…” 

“Yes, daddy?”

“You told Alexa to order them, didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so. Who’s Alexa?” She asked, feigning confusion.

“The box in the kitchen that I ask to do things for me.”

“Oh, yeah, that Alexa. No, daddy. I only ever ask Alexa what time it is. But if she decided to send us some salmon flavored treats, I could really go for one of those.”

Hmmmm. Maybe I need to reconsider the whole Amazon Echo thing. I wonder if there is a “no orders from pets” setting.

Happy Holidays! 

Molly wanted to send out a special holiday greeting. I offered to type it for her, but she said it was more personal if she wrote it all by herself. So…

Po;’lihjk9,n.zw ae4dwg ‘w22

P{:?( aw2p;/io94l,kejm gtp p[;/9o0l.uj p9oq3w4wp9ouj23w45t0 [i-‘=

a/;,ipoj.kl9hm 4rp/9;oiljumqA P;/O9JU3W4P;/O9ILJW344TRF P;O9/J P9OJU3WP;9OI4\

P;IO9J/ R9/OPJ;UI PO9P; PIOJ4EPIO PO9IJAJPO9/; 213079

345.12680.

5203641 541W894E+8W3+TGF W24;/LOP;OIKJOJ

```````````MOPLLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY


[Note: sorry about the all-caps “shouting” at the end there. She got CAPS-LOCK turned on and couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.]

“I’m gonna kiss you on the nose! Right on your shiny black nose!” I told her. 

“Why?” Molly asked.

“Because I love you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my little girl.”

“Why?”

“Because I adopted you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted someone wonderful, like you, to take care of.”

“Why?”

“Do I need to have a reason?”

“No.” She acquiesced and smiled. “I guess you don’t need to have a reason.”

At breakfast this morning, Molly said she wanted me to get her an “abdominizer.”

“Why on earth do you want one of those?” I asked her.

“Because I want eight-pack abs.” She looked deeply serious.

“What are eight-pack abs?”

“They’re like six-pack abs, but better.”

“Why would you want six or eight-pack abs???”

“So I’ll be ripped for bikini season.” She said with a completely straight face.

“Have you been watching the Home Shopping Network again? I’m gonna have to hide that remote.”

“But daaaadyyyyyy! If I want to look totally bitchin’ on the beach next summer, I have to start right now!”

“You don’t need to look ‘ripped’ or, ahem, ‘bitchin’’, for bikini season. You are plenty sleek and strong and beautiful right now. In fact, you get more exercise than any three people I know.”

“But daaaadyyyyy!”

“I tell you what, ask me again tomorrow. If you still want an ‘abdominizer’ we can talk about getting you one then.”

That should take care of that! When in doubt, rely on your dog’s ADD.

When Molly and I are sitting together on the couch, if I take my hand away and stop petting her, she grabs my arm and pulls it back with her claws.

Somehow it manages to be both endearing and painful at the same time.

Yesterday, as we were returning home from the dog park, Molly leaned her head over from the back seat full of excitement. “I can’t wait for Christmas!” She exclaimed.

“You can’t wait for Christmas? Why is that?”

“Everyone at the dog park is talking about it. All the humans get together and sing songs. And we get to have a tree… inside!” She gushed.

“If we had a tree inside, you would just chew on all the branches.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“Well, Molly, you know we’ve already talked about not bringing sticks into the house.”

“But that’s the point of having a tree in the house. The sticks are already in the house. How awesome is that!?!?!” She took a breath then plunged ahead, “But that’s not all, I get lots of special treats. Some of the dogs say that their humans get them gifts like a new collar, or toys, or beds. And the people eat so much that there’s lots of leftovers, and a lot gets dropped on the floor. Wow! That is going to be so great!”

“I’m sorry, honey. We don’t do that.”

“We don’t do what?”

“We don’t do any of that. We don’t celebrate Christmas. But I’ll get you some special treats anyway.”

“We don’t do that?” She asked, incredulous. “Do we do that other one, ‘Sriracha’, where I get a gift or a treat every day for two weeks? That doesn’t sound tooooo bad.”

“I think you mean ‘Chanukah’, and you actually only get a gift or a treat every day for 8 days, not two weeks. But, no, we don’t celebrate Chanukah either.”

“We don’t celebrate Christmas or shoshoka either?”

We drove on in silence.

“But I want Christmas presents!” She wailed, breaking the silence.

“Honey, I buy you toys and collars and beds all year long. And I give you treats every day.”

She was beside herself, running back and forth in the back of the car. “But Christmas presents are special!” She cried.

“What is special about Christmas presents?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had a Christmas present.” She sniffled, “So, they’re special! And, and, and, Christmas is fun!”

“Well, you know, these holidays aren’t just about presents and food and treats. They’re about love, and caring, and friends and family. I love and care about you every day, and your grandmother and aunt and I are your family. You have friends all over the neighborhood and at all the different dog parks. So, every day is a special day. Every day is Christmas.”

“Every day is Christmas?”, she sniffled.

“Every day you go for walks, and you run, and we play, and I give you treats and pet you, not because it’s a special day, just for being you.”

She was beginning to calm down. “Is today Christmas?”

“Today we got up and I petted you, and then we watched TV, then you went to the dog park and you ran, and jumped, and played, and chased balls.”

“Is tomorrow Christmas too?”

“Tomorrow your walker comes, and you get to go for a run up in the hills with your pack.”

“And the day after tomorrow is Christmas too?”

“Yes, Molly, the day after tomorrow is Christmas, and the day after that, and the day after that. You’re special, so, for you, every day is Christmas.”

“Do I get a Christmas treat when we get home?”

She is never one to miss an opportunity. “Yes. When we get home, you get a treat.”

“Well…. I guess that sounds good. But I still want a tree in the house!”

“Molly, why do you poop so often?” I asked her on a recent walk.

“Daddy. Please. Again, I am a dog, that doesn’t mean I know how dogs function. Do you know how your digestive system works!?!?”

“Well, yes.” I admitted, “Actually, I do.”

“Sure, but someone told you how your digestive systems works, right? You don’t innately know how it works.”

“Hmmmm. ‘Innately’. That’s a big word for you”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“OK. Fine, I don’t innately know how my digestive system works.”

“Right. So, please, I don’t know how dogs function. I am a puppy. I know how to run, jump, play, dig, take pads of post-it notes from your desk, and lick your face. I don’t know why I poop as often as I do.”

Molly is convinced that I am the greatest Alpha of all time. She never sees me hunt, and yet there is always food. And I always share my food, even though she didn’t participate in the hunt.

This morning, at breakfast, I jokingly asked Molly if she had joo-joo eyeball.

She said, “It wasn’t me. I didn’t take it. I don’t know where it is”, then ran off.

Uh, oh. I wonder what she took.

I told Molly we'd be going to the dog park a bit later.

She said, "Gotcha."

"And then I'd like to stop off at the grocery store."

"Gotcha."

"And maybe the post office."

"Gotcha."

"What's with the 'gotcha'?" I asked.

"That's what Oscar always says."

"Um. Oscar the gardener?"

"Yes. Isn't he just dreamy?" She sighed, with a faraway look in her eyes.

Ruh roh!

Lately I’ve been walking around the house singing about Anigozanthos (the Australian "Kangaroo Paw" plant.) Molly seems to think that’s odd.

"Hey Molly, just chill for a minute, I'll be right out."

"Laying on stone with the edge of a brick digging into your head, eh? I'm glad you were able to find a comfy spot out here."

Kids these days. I tell ya!

“Boop.”

“Why do you do that?” Molly asked as we sat together on the couch.

“Do what?”

“Push my nose.”

“Because I like the way your nose goes ‘boop’ when I press it.”

“My nose does not go ‘boop’. You push my nose, then you say ‘boop.”

“I never!”

"You always."

"The devil you say!"

“You’re out of your mind.” She sighed.

“You’ve only just noticed?”

“Ooooooh, I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed alright.”

“Boop!”

“Will you PLEASE stop doing that!”

“I’m sorry Dave, I can’t do that.”

“Huh? Who the hell is Dave?”

“It’s a line from an old movie.”

“And how does that advance our conversation?” She asked, clearly exasperated.

“It entertains me. Boop!”

“If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to bite you.”

“You don’t think its funny that your nose goes ‘boop’ when I push it? Boop!”

“MY NOSE DOES NOT GO ‘BOOP’ WHEN YOU PUSH IT! THAT’S YOU GOING ‘BOOP’.” She yelled in my face.

“Oh, come on, Molly. Boop! You really think this isn't - boop! - hysterical? Boop!”

“I will bite you. See if I don’t.”

“No you won’t.”

“Oh yes I will!”

“No. You wont. You can’t.”

“The hell I can’t. Look at these teeth!”

“OK. Bite me. I dare ya.”

“I don’t feel like it right now. I’ll bite you later.”

“No. You won’t. You’ll never bite me.”

“Oh you just wait and see. You wait. You’ll see.”

“Boop!”

One of my gardeners, Oscar, is a body builder. The first time he came to work in my yard, Molly made a dash for it. Oscar went and got her, picked her up, and carried her back down to the house cradled like a baby (and like she weighed nothing at all.)

Ever since then, whenever Oscar comes, Molly totally loses it. She is so in love. All she does is run around whining, looking out windows and doors trying to get a good view of Oscar.

My little girl.

This morning, at breakfast, Molly asked me, "Dad, why do you tell everyone about our conversations?"

"Because its fun. Our conversations are funny. I think other people might enjoy them."

"Hmmmmm." She paused. "Well, I guess its OK since no one actually reads anything you write. But, if this ever becomes popular, we’ll have to discuss it again."

Sometimes I can't wait for Molly to grow up. Other times I want her to stay a puppy forever.

Watching Molly yawn is just amazing. She opens her mouth and her tongue sticks out a bit. Then, as she yawns, her mouth opens wider and her tongue just grows, and grows, and grows, 'till finally it's gotta be about 2/3rds the length of her body.

It's like, Christ, Molly, how much tongue have you got in there? Are you part iguana? Can you catch grasshoppers with that thing?

"Hey Molly, is there some way that we could harness all the static electricity your fur produces?"

"Seriously, daddy? Seriously? I'm a philosopher, not a physicist."

"Did you know that once upon a time physicists were known as 'natural philosophers'?"

"Um. I'm also not a historian."

"I never get that right. Is it 'a' historian, or 'an' historian."

"I'm also not an English teacher."

"Do you mean you're not a 'grammarian'?"

"Like I said, not an English teacher."

"Oh well. Anyway, it's a pity about not being able to harness the energy of your fur. Talk about a renewable resource!"

"Yup." She yawned. "That's a pity alright." 

Yesterday, on the way back from the dog park, Molly told me that she wants to create an internet dating site called, “OKDoggie.”

“Um, I don’t think a dating site for dogs would do very well. Canine internet usage is still very low.”

“How would you know, daddy”, she grinned slyly, “on the internet, no one knows you’re a dog.” She did her little chuckle-snort. “But anyway, it wouldn’t be a site for dogs, it would be for their humans. After all, OKCupid isn’t a dating site for cupids.”

“You want to start a site for dog’s humans?”

“Yes, it would be for humans that live with dogs, and want to meet other humans that live with dogs. I think it is hard for some people to accept another human who puts the needs of their dog first. Humans can be very selfish that way – it’s always ‘me, me, me’, instead of ‘my dog, my dog, my dog’.”

“Hmmmm. Well, what about humans who aren’t fortunate enough to care for a dog? They need love too.”

“Yes. Absolutely. They need love more than anyone! Humans that care for cats, birds, fish, platypus, whatever, would be allowed on the site, as long as they understand the role of the dog in the relationship.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I enjoy humoring Molly. “So, how does this work?”

“It’ll be easy. You create an account, then post photos of your dog, what you love about your dog, the games you and your dog like to play, and what you are looking for in a stepsibling for your dog. Then you look through other profiles until you find one that you think your dog will like and send them a message. If it’s a match, you get together and sniff each other’s butts. Voila.”

“Voila? I think this idea needs more work.”

“Really?” She looked stunned. “Well, OK, you give me your ideas and I’ll see if I can integrate some of them.”

“Sounds good, Molly. I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

Wow. An internet dating site for dog’s humans? I’ve certainly heard worse ideas that took the world by storm.

This morning I pointed out to Molly that some of her responses have been kind of snide lately.

“Well," She said, "I learned from the best. Like father like daughter. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. As ye sow, so shall ye reap.”

Oh, dear lord, what hath I wrought?

I told Molly that I am thinking of dressing her up in a turkey costume for Thanksgiving.

She said, "Ooooh, oooooh. Yes. That's awesome. I would look so cute. Where's the costume? Show me! Show me!"

"Really? You actually want me to dress you up like a turkey?"

"Uh, yeah. No."

Apparently she knew I was bluffing.

Molly tells me that she doesn't give a damn about Thanksgiving. Holiday or no, I'm still taking her to the dog park.

This morning, sitting on the couch, there was a noise out in the street. Molly's ears perked straight up.

“Hey Molly”, I whispered.

“Yes, dad”, she whispered back.

“You can hear me.”

“Of course I can hear you. Why?”

“Sometimes I think you’ve got amazing hearing, other times it seems like you can’t hear me at all.”

“Sometimes I care what you are saying, other times I don’t care at all.”

Well, that was brutally honest. “Geeze, don’t bother sugar coating it.”

“Yeah, well, hey. I haven’t had my coffee yet. Besides, why are we whispering?”

This morning, as I was making pancakes, Molly watched me with great attention. Perhaps she is thinking of making me breakfast in bed over the holidays?

This morning at breakfast, Molly told me that she has decided to be Asian.

“I’m not sure you know what that means”, I told her, “Why have you decided to be Asian?”

She said that yesterday, at the dog park, she met a really nice dog who said he was Asian, so she’s decided that she will be Asian too.

I tried to explain to her that it doesn’t quite work that way – you can’t just decide to be Asian. You either are, or you’re not.

“Why not?” she pressed on, pouting slightly.

It took a while to stifle my laughter. Then, in the kindest possible way, I explained that if you have Asian ancestors, and you’re born in Asia, then you’re Asian. “You could also be something like ‘Asian American’, if your ancestors are Asian, but you are born in America. No matter how nice Asian dogs might be, you don’t have Asian ancestors, and you were born here, so, you’re not Asian.”

All she said was, “I’m Asian”, and then walked away.

So, I guess I have an Asian dog. We’ll see if she’s still Asian after she meets a nice dog from Brazil, or Germany, or Nigeria.

“Hey Molly, you look a bit down.” Immediately she lay down. “No, geesh. I didn’t mean lay down.”

“Then why did you say ‘down’?”

“It’s just an expression.”

“Well, you said ‘down’, and I lay down, so you owe me a treat.”

“OK, next time I’m near the treat jar, remind me and I’ll give you a treat.”

“You can count on it!”

“Anyway, you seem a little depressed.”

“I seem depressed? I’ve just been giving you some space because you seem depressed.”

“Well, things have been a bit hard since COVID.”

“What’s COVID?” she asked.

“It’s a dangerous disease that humans get, and it has been infecting a lot of people.”

“Huh. Well, that explains some things. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Its only something humans get.”

“Mmmmmm. I see why you didn’t bother me with this. It’s not like there are any humans I care about.” She snarked.

“Yeah, you're right. I should have told you. So, you’ve been giving me my space?”

“Yes, you seem down and a bit snippy, so I’ve been giving you some space.”

“I’ve been snippy?”

“Yes, daddy. You’ve been snippy. And distant."

“Geee, I’m sorry. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Now, about that treat.”

This morning, at breakfast, I asked Molly why cats bring up hairballs, but dogs don’t.

“Cats do what?” she asked.

“Bring up hairballs.”

“What’s a hairball?”

“Well,” I said, “it’s basically a ball of fur.”

“And they throw these up?”

“It’s more like coughing them up.”

“Cats cough up balls of fur?”

“Yes. Cats cough up balls of fur.”

“That’s weird.” Molly opined. “I wonder why they do that.”

“Yesterday at the dog park was scary,” Molly told me.

“Yes, it really was. I was scared for you.”

“Why were those dogs mean to me, Daddy? I just want to play.” She wailed.

“I don’t know honey, but we got you out of there and you’re safe now. I hope you still want to go to the dog park again.”

“Yes,” she said, “fur shur, but I don’t want other dogs to be mean to me. How do I make them not be mean to me?”

“I wish I knew, honey, I wish I knew. Maybe instead of running away you should just ignore them, or stand your ground, or just lie down and go passive, or growl and show your teeth.”

“Maybe I can get a tattoo on my forehead that says, ‘born to bite’?”

I tried to take her seriously. “Well, er, I don’t think that would work very well. Your forehead is covered in fur, so a tattoo won't show up. Besides, you wouldn’t want everyone to be scared of you, right?”

“That’s true.”

“So, we’ll just keep going to the dog park, and you try different approaches. You can let me know when you’ve figured it out.”

“OK, daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Molly.”

This evening after dinner I told Molly that she was the only dog I'd ever heard belch.

"Apparently you haven't been listening very closely", she said.

"Molly, what big teeth you have!"

"All the better to inadvertently bite you while we are playing, daddy!"

Mmmmmm... ain't that the truth!

Last night I shooed Molly off the couch so I could lie down and meditate. Ahhhhhh. It was so nice and warm where she had been laying. 

“Thank you, Molly. The couch is so nice and warm!”

“Sure, thank me, woo hoo. I’ll just warm up a spot on the ottoman while you ignore me for the next half hour. No problem.”

Huh? “Well,” I told her, “it is my couch.”

“Yeah? And who was it that invited me to live in their house?”

“Hey, Molly, what’s up? Are we having a fight?”

“I’m sorry, dad. I’ve just been so anxious about the election. Even with it over, I’m still tense.”

“Uhhh, you were concerned about the election?”

“Yeah, it was a real nail biter.”

“The election for President? Biden vs. Trump?” I asked.

“What’s that? I’m talking about Mack vs. Charlie for king of the dog park. Then when Benny came in as a third-party candidate, no one knew if there would even be a clear winner. It was a squeaker, fur shur.”

“'Squeaker', huh? 'Fur shur'? Are those puns?” Now that she is making puns, I had to ask.

“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” she snorted, “I guess they are puns.” She laughed. “It wasn’t intentional. I must be getting good at these puns if I’m doing it by accident!” 

"If no one got a majority, would you have to have a 'run' off?  Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk."

"Oooof", she pantomimed being punched in the gut. "Good one dad."

“Thanks! So... who won?”

“One what?”

“Who won the election, silly?”

“Oh, it was Mack. I think he’ll make a good king.” She opined.

“Well, that’s a relief!”

“Psssh, you’re telling me!”

Anyway, we made up, she stopped being pissed at me about the couch, and I was able to meditate in peace. What a relief.

This morning, while playing with Molly I said, “Yo! Quiero Doggo Bell?”

She looked at me quizzically, “You want a beautiful doggy? I thought I was perra bonita!”

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”

“Si”, she said, “I think speaking multiple languages shows good breeding.”

I was astounded. “Is that a pun?”

“Yes,” she said, “it is a pun, but look…”

“Wow, you just made a pun!”

"Yes. Yes. I made a pun. But you are avoiding the issue. Am I not your beautiful dog?”

“Si. Molly es  Doggo Bell.”

This morning, at breakfast, I said to Molly, “I get why you shed your coat in spring, but why do you also shed in the fall?”

She said, “Why do you keep asking me questions like that? I’m a dog. That doesn’t mean I know how dogs work. I’m not a veterinarian.”

“True, but…”

“Look, you really need to chill out daddy-o,” she interrupted, “if it feels good to lie in the sun, I lie in the sun. If it’s time to shed, I shed. As Ram Dass said, just be.”

I don’t have the first clue how she knows about Ram Dass, and I’m ignoring the fact that she probably meant, “Be here now”, but, she is right I suppose.

Molly v The Bee

This afternoon I asked Molly why it is that on a hot day, she will lay out on the stones of the patio, in full sun, and bake.

She said, “Because if feels good.”

“Why does it feel good.”

“How should I know,” she replied, “I’m a dog, but that doesn’t mean I know how a dog works. How much do you know about how a human works and why you like what you like. Besides, I’m only 1 year old. I’m not even an adult dog. Laying in the sun feels good.”

Point taken.

How do I explain to Molly that she has to wait to go to the dog park because of some screwy law about changing the time?

This morning, while making breakfast, I asked Molly how she slept. She said, "I don’t know, daddy. I close my eyes and it just happens."

Molly with her favorite new (and seemingly indestructible) toy.

Yesterday afternoon Molly taught me two of her top lessons for life:

#1 – When someone offers you something delicious, take it and run away [a rule that a lot of people at buffets would benefit from learning.]

#2 – When your loved one comes home, drop everything you are doing, no matter how pleasant or seemingly important, and run to greet them as though you hadn’t seen them for years, even if it’s only been minutes.

The other day a friend accused me of “putting words in [Molly’s] mouth.”

That’s not fair at all. I try very hard to take down what Molly says word for word.

Today I was picking up the pieces of another shredded toy spread all over the living room.

I asked Molly why she always rips her toys apart.

She looked baffled. “What’s the point of hunting them if I don’t kill them?”

“Well, you’re not exactly hunting them or killing them.” 

“Ohhhhh, some of these toys can be tricky, and really hard to kill.” 

“But if you tear them up, then you don’t have them anymore.” 

“Yes, I do.” She said, “you get me another one.”

“What if I didn’t get you another one?” 

“But it’s in your nature to get me toys. You get me a toy, and I kill it. It is our purpose. Besides”, she confided, “if you didn’t give me toys, I’d kill your shoes.” 

She’s right, of course. It is in our nature. I buy her toys, and she kills them. It is the natural order of things. And I’d rather pick up pieces of toys than pieces of shoes.

Oh, the joy, watching Molly on the security camera footage, having a wonderful time mutilating a post-it note pad that she stole from my desk last night.

Molly is such a child. I like to walk around the house singing songs but making up my own lyrics. "No, daddy, those aren’t the words!" She'll wail, "You're doing it wrong!"

This morning, at breakfast, I asked Molly if she’ll still need me when I’m 64.

“I dunno,” she said. "How old are you now?”

I guess she wants to make an informed decision.

At breakfast this morning, I asked Molly why it is that, when she catches a fly, bee, or other insect, she drops it and then picks it up again, and drops it again, over and over, before finally eating it? Is she just having fun, or does the wriggling insect feel funny so she doesn't eat it until it stops moving, or is it something else?

She just stared at me with that, "you've got to be kidding" expression she gets when I've said something particularly stupid.

This morning at breakfast, I asked Molly, “When we’re playing tug-of-war, do you prefer it when you pull the toy away from me, or when the tug just goes on and on, or when I get the toy and throw it for you to chase?”

She replied, “Yes.”

This morning, at breakfast, I asked Molly if she new what a “tautology” was.

She said, “no.”

I told her, “To know Molly is to love Molly, so to love Molly is to know Molly. That’s a tautology”.

She smiled and said, “I like tautologies.”