Happy Birthday Molly

Today Molly turns 7. She is one special beagle girl. Molly developed Addison's disease last October, and I did not think she was going to live another day, let alone almost a year more. Now, I know that she is likely to live a normal life span as long as I continue to act as her surrogate adrenal glands.

After all, the adrenal glands secrete the mineralcoticoids and the glucocorticoids that our bodies need to stay alive. President Kennedy had this same disease. I knew nothing of the functions of the adrenal glands, but now I am Molly's adrenals. When she is stressed, I provide her with extra cortisone because she depletes her normal dosage for the day. I take her to the vet for a monthly shot of the mineralcoticoid, Percorten-V. I have learned more about electrolyte imbalance than I ever thought was possible.

Molly has been a special girl even without this rare disease. As a puppy she used to grab my things and run and hide under the dining room table. I could not catch her. She often went in my purse and chewed up lipstick and ground it into the carpet. She would chew up pill bottles, but never take a pill. It scared the crap out of me until I realized she just chewed the bottles.

Molly expects everyone in the world is here to pet her. She charms everyone, even some non-dog lovers. She is a suck up, and she makes people smile. She is not shy. She is one major party girl who loves a crowd and a good time. She has been known to drink an ounce or two of beer on occasion. Once, she had a bit of champagne. She liked that.

Molly will eat leftovers off a fork. She does that more neatly than off a plate. She will eat almost anything. She doesn't like red apples, but will eat green. She isn't fond of pickles or green olives but will eat cat turds from the kitty litter box. There is no accounting for her palate.

Molly loves the new beagle puppy next door. She took right to her. She loves all dogs, all people. She has made friends with a horse, a bird, and a woodchuck. She is happiest sleeping on me. If I am not around, she will sleep on someone else. Molly doesn't miss opportunities.

Molly tells me when she needs extra medication and if I hold up 3 different bottles, she will tell me which one. If the cat pees on the throw rug in the laundry room, Molly rings the "servant bell" and sits down, waiting for me to pick up the rug and throw it in the washing machine. If she wants to go out, she rings the bell. If she thinks Baby needs to go out, she rings the bell. If a wasp gets in the house, she points it out to me. Molly loves the mailman and the UPS man, and all repair and delivery people. She cries when they leave.

Years ago, Molly couldn't hold her poop once while I was gone. When I returned, she sat on the throw rug she used and looked at me as if to say, "I take responsibility for this." She didn't get in trouble and it hasn't happened again.

Once I left her and Baby in the car for two minutes while I ran into the drug store. She immediately moved to the driver's seat and stood on the horn. She stayed there until I returned. I still think she doesn't like the car because she wants to do the driving. She keeps trying to convince me that her name is "Terra" and she has a valid CA driver's license. However, Molly is not a blonde.

Molly snores. Loudly. Once in a while she passes gas. She is the best, most beautiful dog in the world. In a way, I understand why she got such a potentially fatal disease. It just makes her more special.

I hope moving doesn't stress her out too much. Stress can kill her, but it won't if I do my job as her external adrenal glands.

Happy Birthday, Molly. I hope you have many, many more.