“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.