If you are on your last legs, and you're a dog, this is what your staff might cook for you. At least it's proving true at my parents' house. They are nursing poor Molly in her final days. We'll meet them Thursday at their vet, where they'll put her to sleep.
A 14-year-old Golden Retriever, she was recently diagnosed with cancer. All she does, pretty much, is sleep. My parents are keeping her warm and talking to her and, obviously, cooking for her.
My dad and I picked out Molly from a litter of her siblings, breeded from the dog of one of my dad's co-workers. I've been looking around our house for the photo that shows all the siblings lined up as puppies (and sitting still!), after which Molly bounded out first from the pack and wobbled over to us. We picked her.
At my parents' old house, where I grew up, she seemed to get buried in the grass those first few days and weeks. She was so small! Then she grew to about 75 pounds. She enjoyed long walks and eating paper found on the ground and she walked like a queen. She was always very regal.
Molly is named for another former co-worker of my dad's, named Molly Farmer.
Daddy snapped countless photos of me and Molly, especially when I was about to drive off to the city where I lived at the time; he put her in the back of the truck and we posed sitting on the gate. Molly and I kind of favored, with our smile and the color of our hair.
Molly will leave behind her parents, Hugh and Charlotte Kennedy; a cat sibling named Charlie; human siblings Brad Kennedy and Allison Kennedy Owen; brother-in-law Michael Owen; her wagon; countless tennis balls; and many friends.