Slayer of Chickens
Pain in the bum
Lately it seems everyone is doing posts regarding their various furry friends, be it Hastings the rat or Yang and George the evil cats, so I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon.
I've spoken about my dogs before and even posted a few pics but just how much do you really know about my delightful doggies?
I'll start off with Molly as she's really my dog.
About seven or eight years ago I was living between my Mum's house and Christian's Mum's place, staying one night here and the other night there. It worked rather well as both our Mum's were single and although they both enjoyed time to themselves, they didn't want to be alone all the time.
Christian had a dog called Tessa, a pure-bred Jack Russell who was a little cow and hated everyone except Christian and Margaret (my mother in law). Tess was slowly warming up to me but in her eyes I was an usurper, the one who stole her precious Christian away from her. She rarely had any time for me and although she would occasionally allow me to pat her it would more often than not end up with her snapping at my hands.
Margaret one day heard about a dog that was going to be put down because she'd killed a chicken. The dog was a Corgi-x-Jack Russell, about a year and a half old and apart from this one instance had a nice temperament. Having considered for a while getting another dog to keep Tess company, Margaret went to have a look at Molly and discovered that even before she had killed the chicken Molly had been mistreated by her current owners. That was enough to convince Margaret to keep her.
I had been at work and had a message on my phone saying that as no one would be home that evening could I maybe go around there to help Molly settle in. I had no idea what to expect but when I got over there I found the most adorable dog in the world waiting for me. Molly loves cuddles, I sometimes say she's a cuddle slut as she'll mob anyone and everyone just to get cuddles. She has the softest fur in the world and compared to Tess, she's very well behaved.
From that day onwards Molly became mine. Unlike Tessa, Molly accepted me instantly and would love me regardless. In fact I believe it was because of her ill treatment that has made Molly the way she is. If someone is willing to show affection she will return it ten fold.
Molly is also the funniest dog I've ever seen. She gets playful at times and like Tess (it must be a Jack Russell thing) she'll tear off around the house, running laps, stopping suddenly as if to dare you to chase her and then she'll be off again. She will stand on the rug for ages bent into some crazy yoga position so she can rub the top of her head and if you sit down she'll come and claw at your hand until you pat her. Molly is also a ball freak but because she tore her cruciate ligament a while back and had to have it replaced with wire, we don't play often with her. This doesn't stop Molly though! She has a rope with a ball attached and she'll throw it into the air and play by herself. She can really get some height with it too - I've lost track of the times she's thrown it over the fence.
Molly is a slinker and if she's been caught doing something naughty she'll slink away guiltily. If I come home from work and she's run up to me just to slink away it usually means she's been in the bin, although she does act like this even if it's Tessa who's done the deed. Again I think it's her past experience that makes her believe she'll get into trouble even if she hasn't done anything wrong. Since Tessa doesn't give a shit if she's chewed a wrapper from this bin and doesn't act guilty at all I do think that Molly takes the blame for a lot of stuff she hasn't done.
The other morning I woke up to find it was thundering. As I wandered about getting ready for work I was thinking how great it was that Tess was deaf now since she hadn't been howling at the thunder and setting Molly off. Just after this followed another thought - where the heck was Molly? I hadn't seen her all morning. I searched all over the house and yard for her but just couldn't find her. Her usual spots were all vacant - under the bed, in her basket outside, in her bed in our walk-in robe. I was heading through the bathroom into the bedroom again, sure I had missed her in there before when I spotted her cowering in the shower. I had only just gotten out of the shower so she was sopping wet but her trembling wasn't from being cold and wet. She was absolutely petrified.
I went about making a hidey hole for her in the lounge, putting her bed in between the couches and covering it with cushions but she wouldn't stay in it and headed straight back into the shower. In the end I lay the dog towels in the shower and had to leave for work. As I left she seemed quite content to ride out the remainder of the storm huddled in the shower.
Such a cutie.