By Jeff Zillich
~ I’ve often heard people use the phrase “just a dog” when referring to dogs by those that aren’t as fortunate enough to experience life the way I choose to. That’s a phrase for folks who don’t know dogs, don’t want the full experience, or are too scared to fully put their heart into something. You get out of life what you put into it, and for me, the juice has always been worth the squeeze. That concept applies to dogs as well, and that’s thanks to one dog.
In the summer of 2007 I was living in Clemson, SC. I had moved across country from Washington State, on a whim, in fall of 2006 after visiting my best friend Cassidy (who was attending at the time) for a Clemson Football game. This was a time in my life where I really lacked clear direction. I was 23, about to turn 24, had attended numerous colleges, but failed to accomplish anything more than draining the local beer supply of said colleges. My life consisted of two part times jobs and any new friends I’d managed to meet on the start of my new journey. I had told those friends I was looking for a dog. “Why don’t you go down to the local shelter and look,” my friends would say. “Nah man, I want a dog from when she’s a pup and a pure bred yellow lab.” Ever since I was old enough to remember, I always wanted a yellow lab. A female yellow lab pup. A pure bred female yellow lab pup was always the dream.
One day in July of 2007, my friend Benny, who was working for the Pickens County School District doing lawn maintenance at the time, called me, “hey man, I think I got a dog for you.” He had a found this lanky pup of the yellow lab variety, soaking wet, scared shitless in a culvert. I came over to his apartment (that I would later live in for a year) and there she was. She wasn’t a pure bred yellow lab, but it didn’t matter, one look and there no was giving that dog up. I proceeded to take her to the vet. They pulled multiple ticks off of her, cleaned her up, vaccinated her and gave me an estimated age of 12-14 weeks old. I named her Molly. I remember calling to tell my old man I got a dog and named it Molly. I had always liked that name for a dog, so it was fitting when he informed me, “You know we had a lab named Molly before you were born right?” That was the start of fate regarding the best dog I’ve ever been around. I had someone to take care of every day now, who needed me to look after her. That was the direction I needed.
Then the adventures began. I had an old white Pontiac Grand Prix that was previously my grandmothers. Molly was so little and so scared. She’d ride underneath the passenger seat anytime we went anywhere. There was the usual learning curve for both a first time dog owner and the dog. As she aged I would come home to find my mattress eaten, all sorts of things tore up, or find she had shit in the house. One day, when she was still in the crated phase, I came home from work to find she had gotten sick and knocked her water bowl over. She was covered in liquid shit. I felt terrible. We proceeded to walk up to the hose area and get her cleaned up as I incessantly apologized to her. Or the time I walked into my room and she looked at up at me as if to say I fucked up, as she sat underneath a book shelf with a bunch of extension cords entangled around her. Those memories in the early years are endless, but what I remember most was all the time she was right there by my side, during a time in my life that lacked clear direction. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was teaching me what is was like to care for someone, and all that went into that.
I proceeded to get a full time job at a textile mill in Pendleton, SC in August of 2007. After 5 months of shift work, I knew it was time to get my shit together and go back to school. I enrolled in the local community college in January of 2008. Right around the time I got Molly, a guy who would become one my best friends, who is now the Godfather to my first son, Maz, moved to Clemson from out West to attend Clemson as well. Maz had a chocolate lab named Muddy he brought with him. Muddy was the perfect guide to show Molly how things worked. We found this house in Pendleton, SC in the summer of 2008 that had a huge back yard that blended into a giant field, pond, and a run of trees as far as the eye could see. It was a perfect spot for a couple of labs to live life right. Mud quickly showed Molly what Tennis ball was all about. It was clear from an early age, Molly wasn’t a lazy dog. There was no calling it quits when it came to fetch, heading to lake, or taking her anywhere.
I managed to get nearly straight A’s at Tech through spring of 2009 and applied to transfer to Clemson. During this stretch, with my family being in Washington State, I often didn’t go home on Holidays, so while in school there were plenty of times when I was at the house alone, but Molly was always there. She fit perfectly behind your legs as you lay on a couch. One pat and she’d hop up, spin around, lay her head on your knee and melt into a place of comfort for both her and myself.
In summer of 2009, I opened the mailbox one afternoon and found a letter from Clemson. I sat on the stoop and opened it. I had been rejected. I felt like a failure and once again, felt like I didn’t have direction, but Molly was there, providing that comfort only a dog can give, as if to say, wherever you go, I’ll be there. I’m right here. I let my best friends know the bad news over a couple of beers, who were surprised and frustrated, as they thought I was a shoe in given my time at Tech. We’re a close knit group, and somehow it just felt like it was all a part of the plan for me to attend Clemson. Like Molly with a tennis ball though, you can’t just quit. I proceeded to go down to the admissions office at Clemson and request to speak with the admissions officer who had reviewed my file. She was courteous and we spoke of my previous transcripts at other colleges that were so poor. As genuine as I could be, I informed her that while I understood I had previous poor efforts, I had really refocused and excelled so well at Tech that I would flourish given the chance to attend Clemson. You can’t fake genuine, as she could see the sincerity in my eyes as she proceeded to inform me I was accepted and would receive my information in the mail shortly. You know who was waiting for me when I got home with that news? Molly was there.
There is no place like Clemson and life was good, but like any man in his mid-twenties, I was still missing something. I thought I had it all: great friends, a great dog and was a Clemson student, but the biggest piece to the puzzle wasn’t complete. I had it all, except the girl.
Prior to the 2009 ACCCG, in which Clemson played GT in Tampa, FL, I had purchased 2 tickets to the game, as Maz and I planned on getting a group of us together and making the road trip. Maz ended up not being able to go, so I had two tickets and no real semblance of a plan on getting to the game. At this point, I wasn’t planning on going, but wanted to, as I’m the type of guy who thinks you can’t go back in time and you should fully experience as much as you can in life. Live in the moment, if you will, and make those memories. This was Clemson’s first crack at a title in almost 20 years. In chatting with my Stats lab partner via Facebook, the topic of the game got brought up. She learned of the situation and figured, hey, one more person to split the cost of gas with right? I ended up going with her and one more friend on a road trip to Tampa. By trips end, there was obvious mutual interest between the two of us. After a month of dating, we made it official as she was my girlfriend in January of 2010. I’ll never forget the first time Llyn met Molly. “Hey Ms. Molly,” in that sweet southern tone. That was it, Molly was no longer my dog, she was OUR dog.
Molly proceeded to spend more time at Llyn’s apartment then she did at that old house in Pendleton. Llyn insisted we take Molly everywhere and I couldn’t be happier the new found love of my life appreciated dogs as much as I did. I don’t think Molly could be happier either, as if she knew, that’s all that man needed, a good woman. Baseball season consisted of Molly hanging out at tailgates, or setting up next to the water at said tailgates so Molly could fetch all day, with the summers being endless fun. Molly was always there, ready and waiting to go anywhere with us. One particular road trip, Llyn and I planned on heading to her home town, Albemarle, NC (her parents now lived in Dahlonega, GA) and we planned on staying with some of her lifelong friends from high school. This particular stop involved Mr. Sanges house, a total virgin of a destination to Molly. The moment we pulled into the driveway, like so many trips we’d take together, the first thing we’d do is pop open that rear passenger door to let Molly out, and out she came this time, bounding out of there like a deer crossing a freeway. What in the hell? I thought. That wasn’t like Molly to get out of the car like that. Off she darts into a bush directly off the driveway, buried, not an ounce of that dog in sight. A few seconds later, out pops Molly with nothing but a mouth full of tennis ball. That damn tennis ball looked like it had been buried in there for a decade.
By the time summer of 2011 rolled around, Llyn and I had been dating a year and half and were both set to graduate in December of 2011. We both needed a place to live for one semester. We found these old apartments in Clemson. Llyn got a studio that sat above the parking lot of the apartment I got with my friend Jeff, or JA as many referred to him as. For Llyn and me, it was the closest thing you could get to living together in college without technically living together. My apartment was set into the hillside, with Llyn’s across the parking lot above us, as I could see Llyn’s front door from mine. Out my back porch was nothing but a wooded area. The 4 story apartment was built so each story had a long shared porch that ran off the back of every apartment, with stairs on each end that went up to each floor for outside access. We use to sit on that porch for hours, relax and let Molly do her thing. Day or night, you could chuck a tennis ball in the woods as far as you could throw it and Molly would race down the porch, down around the stair case, disappear for however long it took, only a short time later to hear her hit the steps again, as you knew she was on her way back. Every time, there she stood, eager as ever with whatever ball you threw. It didn’t matter how long it took, she always found it, and always came back. That last semester of college flew by, like something out of a dream. Our parents were all in town for graduation, and I was bull shitting in the parking lot of the apartment complex as we packed up the cars etc, when I attempted to call Molly. Rather than run the 30 feet back into my apartment, Molly decided to run 100 feet over to the stair case leading to Llyn’s building, up the stair case, and stopped in front of Llyn’s door, sitting, and waiting as she stared at Llyn’s door. My Dad let out a loud chuckle, “Good for you, Jeff.”
I had no real plans after college either, all I knew was that I was in love with Llyn and wherever I went, Molly was coming with me, but remember, she was no longer my dog, she was OUR dog. Llyn’s parents lived in Dahlonega, GA and she had decided to move back home while she figured out where she was going to school next. I moved in with Llyn and her parents, as I found a job at a recycling plant in Alpharetta, GA. It was a temporary gig until I found something associated with my degree after college, or so I thought. Molly was as welcome as ever. Llyn and I would take Molly to the start of the Appalachian Trail area and hike Amicolola Falls. She loved it, but the grates on the steps leading up the climb to the top of falls were tough on her paws. So of course, like any good mother, Llyn insisted she get walking boots. I still remember Llyn strapping those neoprene booties to Molly’s feet and her attempting to walk, raising those paws as high as possible, clopping around awkwardly like she was in the circus.
Llyn opted for Emory University in Atlanta for nursing school, shortly thereafter, Llyn moved to Atlanta and I moved into a house in Milton, GA with Cort, Kevin (Towe, as we refer to him as) and Benny. Molly was the only dog in the house and the back yard was once again huge, butted up against a wooded area, where the never ending fetching of tennis balls continued. By now she’d insist you throw two tennis balls. Why go get one when you can get two? The water time was better than ever as well. We often floated the Chestatee on day trips. The first time we took Molly, she insisted on swimming the entire 4+ hours we were on the river. It only took one trip for Llyn to be convinced Molly needed a life jacket, as the dog never knew when to quit. I laughed as I thought she’s a lab, she doesn’t need a life jacket, but she had a mother now, and you can bet your ass that dog got a life jacket.
As the saying goes, time moves faster than you think. By now I’d been working at this recycling plant for 2 years, lived in an apartment in Alpharetta with just Towe as Llyn was about to graduate nursing school. One of the highlights of that period included me purchasing a new to me truck, as I bought a 2011 Extended Cab Silverado. Molly would hop up in the back whenever asked, and sit curled up behind the passenger seat. That was her spot. It didn’t matter what you put behind the passenger seat or how full a vehicle was, Molly always found a way to sit there. I was burnt out and tired of where I was working, with yet again, a lost sense of direction. I even hated the fact Molly lived in an apartment without any real grass. Same thing though, I knew I loved Llyn and wherever I went or what I did, Molly was coming with me. It was time for the next step in life.
As it so often does in my life, I could sense it was time for that next step, even if I wasn’t sure what that entailed. I knew one part of the next step, that’s for sure. I spoke with Llyn’s Aunt, who owned a jewelry store in Greenville, SC, as well as Llyn’s cousin who worked there. They proceeded to make the perfect ring and all I needed was a plan. By now, Towe and I had decided not to renew our lease, as I knew I wasn’t staying another year, I just didn’t know what I’d be doing. I had helped him move into an apartment and we placed all my items in storage. It was a transition period, where Llyn was staying with her parents for a bit again, and I was floating back and forth between Towe’s couch and Llyn’s folks on the weekend. I had taken a Friday off work and planned a long weekend trip to the North Carolina Mountains. For the start of the trip we planned on staying in Clemson Thursday night to catch a baseball game that evening. “Let’s take Molly out on the dike for a bit before we stop at the Esso and then go to the game.” “Yeah it’d be nice to let Molly walk for a bit,” Llyn replied. Llyn was glowing in a purple sundress. My nerves were at an all-time high as I walked Molly along the dike with that ring burning a hole in my pocket, anxious with anticipation. The nerves got the best of me as I walked Molly, pacing way ahead of Llyn, as she meandered slowly along, taking in the beautiful day. My friends were down below to take pictures and I still have a picture of me attempting to drag Molly, as she stood looking back at Llyn.
I needed to get a certain ways out on the dike so my friends could actually get pictures from below. Eventually, on that sun splashed day in Clemson, SC, where I got Molly and met Llyn, Llyn managed to meander to the center of the dike. “Llyn, you know I love you right?” She attempted to hold back tears as she already knew, and with Molly’s leash in one hand and a ring in the other, I dropped to one knee. The look of joy on Llyn’s face was only matched by the look on Molly’s. A tearful yes ensued and after a brief pause, as I thought we were alone, you could hear a voice in the distance from the lake, as two men were out in a boat fishing, “Well, what did she say?”
The following morning as we drove to the NC Mountains as a newly engaged couple, with love as our only sense of direction, I got a call from my boss, “the director wants to interview you about a job opportunity.” That following Monday I interviewed for a vacant General Manager position within the company and accepted a day later. Llyn, Molly and I were moving to Stevens Point, WI for a whole new adventure.
I had to move right away, as the company had an apartment that was prepaid for 6 months while we found our permanent residence. One issue though, the apartment complex didn’t accept dogs. Molly would have to stay behind for the time being. From mid-June 2014 through early September 2014, Molly would stay with the in laws in Dahlonega, where she enjoyed walks and tearing up their pine straw fetching balls into the woods on a daily basis, in addition to using their decorative waterfall as the perfect place to cool off. I believe she tried to take on a pregnant deer once as well (like I said, there’s no quit in that dog).
That would be the longest time I spent away from Molly. Llyn arrived in Wisconsin in July and we began the process of looking for houses. The thought of living in the frozen tundra for long wasn’t a possibility at that point, so we started out looking for places to rent. As one month turned into two, we weren’t having much luck, especially when it came to find anything with a yard. We figured let’s just look at buying, why not? Llyn found a great house online and we set out to go look. The realtor knew what she was doing, as she walked us through the kitchen and into the back yard right away. That was the first house we looked at to buy and within 5 minutes both Llyn and I knew that would be our first house. We finished the tour of the house and found it even more appealing. We did the responsible thing and did some comparative shopping over the course of a few days, looking at a dozen or so additional houses before informing the realtor that the first house was the one we wanted. “That yard would be perfect for Molly,” was muttered by both Llyn and I multiple times. We closed in early September of 2014 and Molly arrived two days after via my father in law. The moment she hopped out of the truck, we felt like we had just made our house a home.
We added a fence to the house that sits on just shy of on acre and it was Molly’s new playground. The shop (the shed as we call it) out back slowly morphed into an outdoor living room. The perfect place to sit and spend hours letting Molly fetch. By June of 2015, Llyn and I were married. A picturesque wedding in the NC Mountains.
I can still remember the picture sent to us from where Molly was staying while we were gone: A grin from ear to ear with a sign hung on her saying: Happy Wedding day Mom and Dad. Llyn & Jeff, 6-13-15.
All the while, leading up to this wedding, Llyn had been in my ear about getting another Dog. “Come on, it’ll be perfect, Molly can show her the ropes.” I kept telling her no, using excuses I knew weren’t real reasons. Things like more dog poop to clean up, or the additional cost etc, but I knew Llyn was right. As I kept saying no, I had already been looking for a pup. I found exactly what I was looking for in Galesville, WI. I went and looked at a litter and in 5 minutes knew which pup would be the perfect companion for Molly. I was second pick for a female, so hopefully she’d still be there. After a deposit was placed, it was just a waiting period until that 49th day. I was getting my pure bred yellow lab pup I had always wanted as a kid. Champion blood lines, female, 49th day pickup, the whole works.
In the weeks leading up to it, Llyn was so anxious she ruined the surprise and looked through my deleted emails and found when I had contacted the breeder (she’s never been one to accept surprises easily), but that didn’t change the excitement. Molly was getting a companion. In July of 2015, we loaded up the truck and made the 2.5 hour drive across the beautiful landscape of Southwest Wisconsin to get our new pup. The pup I had planned on picking had a yellow collar, but let’s be honest, this decision was as much or more Llyn’s than it was mine. We pulled into the drive and the remaining pups playfully wrestled in a make shift crate in the front yard, and the look of joy on Llyn’s face was indescribable. After playing with orange collar (you gotta pick orange for Clemson right?) and enjoying the pups, yellow was her pick. Fate dealt another beautiful hand. We had our new pup. I can remember it like it was yesterday, rolling through Southwest Wisconsin in that slate gray Silverado, Valley sitting in my lap, as All I Can Do Is Write About It by Skynyrd played in the background. We arrived home with our new pup. It took all of a day for Molly to love her new companion. So easy, so accepting, so loving and so willing to adapt to whatever changes we presented to her.
As time passed, we enjoyed life as newlyweds and raising another pup alongside Molly. Clemson proceeded to make the CFP in 2015, 2016, and 2017 as we got to enjoy traveling throughout the country and share in Clemson winning the first National Championship of our lifetime. Every step along the way, it felt like we had it all, but somehow there always seemed to be another step that made things even better. My job is flexible and one spring morning for whatever reason I swung back into the house at 9 am to steal a kiss and say hi. There wasn’t a reason outside of that, I was just out and about and decided to stop in. Less than 10 seconds in, before I could even say hello, Llyn blurted out “I’m pregnant!” with that same look of sheer joy I’ve seen on her face a thousand times over. Molly was there, wagging that tail with excitement.
Our son Rivers was born February 20, 2018 and two days afterward we arrived home. We walked in the house and set him right in front of Molly in his car seat, and she gently poked her head in to meet her latest companion. Once again; so easy, so accepting, so loving. One day, as we puttered around the house, we began to call Molly. “Molly! Molly!” We looked everywhere and couldn’t find her. Did she accidentally lock herself in the unfinished room? Nope not there either. There was one place we hadn’t thought to look. The door to Rivers’ room was slightly cracked as he was asleep, a gentle nudge of the door and there lay Molly, 3 feet away, laying below his crib, providing the comfort only a dog can give.
They say the days are long, but the years are short. Two dogs and a baby make that saying ring truer than ever. I watched as my Son slowly went from crawling to walking, cooing to reading, as Molly was right there as a helpful guide. Before I knew it, he was the one throwing the tennis balls and attempting to learn the chuck it. It was just like I envisioned every time I listen to All I Can Do Is Write About It by Skynyrd and that line rings out “Do you like to see a youngin with his dog?” He learned to open and close the back porch door for her, help me feed her, and she would come into his room every night, laying on the floor as we read to him before bed. His little voice went from saying bolly and balley to its Molly and Valley.
By the fall of 2019, life was like a dream, as we worked our way through our 30’s with two dogs, two full time jobs, and a son. Llyn had now returned to school part time as well, pursuing her doctorate to become an NP. Clemson had now made the CFP from 2015-2018, won 2 National Titles in the process and was well on their way to a return trip in 2019. There was nothing like pulling into the driveway on what most would consider a meaningless Tuesday evening, only to be greeted by the door opening, Molly and Valley running through it, alongside Rivers, as Llyn smiled in the background. So as we sat in our Clemson basement one Sunday afternoon watching the Seahawks, as Rivers attempted to use Molly as a rocking chair, and Llyn looked at me and said “I’m pregnant” that sense of sheer joy once again came over my face, as I knew it would only add to the dream life we’d created.
The hours of fetch with Molly continued, with Rivers only adding to the excitement.
Molly’s hips were starting to give her trouble a bit, and by now, whenever Valley chose to win the race, she did, but Molly still had no quit in her, and as always, she was so easy, so accepting, so lovely and happy to just be a part of it. It didn’t matter Valley could get to the ball first, it just mattered that she got to be there. In May of 2020, Molly was due for her annual exam and Llyn had suggested we pull some lab work, as Molly had started vomiting a few times a month. Ole Molly had a penchant for eating whatever she wanted, so that was par for the course at times, but this seemed different. I reluctantly agreed.
The Vet called with her results and informed us everything looked good but her platelets had reached 62k, and normal levels were 300k-500k. She suggested starting her on a steroid to help bring those numbers up but she was free to keep living her best life, as she wasn’t in pain. We also gave her something to help her hips a bit. As my second son’s due date fast approached, there were plenty of pictures of Molly staring up at that pregnant belly, waiting for her latest companion to arrive. We began checking her blood once a week to monitor her platelets and the good news was she was improving. By the end of June, our home was ripe with anticipation of our second son, as the due date approached on July 4th.
On June 29th, 2020, our second son Ridge was born, and once again, two days later, we arrived home with that same car seat Molly had peered into upon Rivers’ arrival home, and we once again walked in and set Ridge right in front of Molly in his car seat, and she gently poked her head in to meet her latest companion. Once again; so easy, so accepting, so loving. We had the same routine for Ridge as we did Rivers. He slept in his own room in his crib, and Llyn sat in the rocking chair every night to feed him. The new routine quickly settled into place for Molly. Lay on the floor of Rivers’ room for night time story, then it was off to Ridge’s room to lay on the floor while Llyn fed the baby. As Llyn nursed the baby in the ensuing days throughout the middle of night, she informed me that Molly would get up every time, leave our room and come lay on the floor in front of them as she nurtured our newborn son.
Molly was scheduled for another blood draw July 2nd. The vet called a few days later with the results and informed us that her platelets had once again dropped down to where we were when we started. She suggested running a full panel, which I agreed to. My in laws planned on being in town until July 7th to help support us with the new baby, and then there would be a bit of a time gap between the next set of family visitors arriving, so I took Thursday the 9th and Friday the 10th off to be home with our completed family. The Vet called Thursday explaining the results of the latest full panel, giving her recommendation that Molly get an abdominal scan and refer us to another clinic, as the results were suggesting she was having liver issues but the cause was unknown without more tests. Llyn and I agreed we weren’t putting Molly through a plethora of tests, it just wasn’t her style, nor ours. The vet stated we could start her on a medication to help her Liver and given that she’s loving life; eating, drinking, playing etc., agreed with the plan we had in place.
At this point, as we would sit in the back yard, I felt like a king. I had it all. Llyn, Rivers, Ridge, Molly, Valley. Our family was complete in life’s current version of a slice of heaven. By now we didn’t take Molly on many walks, as the mile loop we often did in our neighborhood was a bit too much, but given that feeling of having spent a perfect sun splashed Thursday and Friday as a family, I opted to take a walk as a complete family, with Ridge strapped to Llyn’s chest, me corralling Valley, and River’s walking Molly as he had learned to do, we took a meandering ¼ mile lap through the neighborhood on Friday night. In those moments, life was perfect in its own way and you could just feel it.
The following morning we drank our morning coffee, all out at the edge of the shed, as we’d done a thousand times over. We FaceTimed my mother back in Washington State, and she asked, “How’s Molly?” I replied the same as I always had in recent years “she’d doing good, still chugging along, happy as ever.” I ran out to the store prior to lunch to grab a few things. Llyn text me a picture of Molly and said “worried about her today” as she laid on the dog bed. As we were eating lunch, Molly lay underneath Rivers high chair, like always, patiently waiting for the crumbs that were sure to fall on the floor. Rivers would always rest his feet on Molly as he ate. “How you doing Molly girl?” She proceeded to get up, and we noticed she had a tennis ball size buildup of fluid on her left front elbow and the swelling had started down her leg. Llyn and I looked at each other and we knew. We proceeded to enjoy the rest of Saturday, and to our surprise Molly still walked around that afternoon, enjoying the yard and a tennis ball or two. That night, Llyn fed Ridge and like always, Molly followed her same routine. Ridge had a feeding at 1:45 AM. Molly was there.
Sunday morning we got up and the swelling in Molly’s leg had gotten much worse. She didn’t eat her breakfast. I carried her out to the shed and laid her down on the dog bed. As we all hung out, Rivers proceeded to bounce tennis balls all throughout the shed, Molly would pick her head up and look, but no chasing. That was it. It was time and I knew it.
I proceeded to carry Molly and put her in my truck. By now I had a 2017 GMC Sierra Crew Cab, packed with two car seats. We loaded the family up and Molly of course laid right behind the passenger seat, as she always did. I knew what was coming, but I owed it to that dog to just check, so we drove the 25 minutes north to the 24 hour vet clinic. Maybe it was fluid they could drain and we could proceed with the original treatment plan? I knew that wasn’t the case, but I owed it to Molly. I brought her inside and I sat in a room, as I waited for the Vet to return with the initial assessment. The door cracked open and I could tell immediately from the look in her eyes, “I’m very concerned about Molly,” she said. Just be honest with me Doc, I can take it. “Given everything we know and the background you gave me, I think Molly has Bone Cancer. That leg is painful. I can do an x ray if you’d like.” I didn’t need an x ray. I knew. That old dog was hanging on just to make sure we knew how to take care of that last little companion we brought into the world. Llyn needed to be present, so given we had the family in the car, Molly was given an IV pain med that lasted 8 hours and I walked her out of the clinic.
The remainder of the afternoon consisted of letting Molly lounge in the grass, some water on her head to serve as a reminder of all the fun times before, Rivers bringing her a pile of tennis balls and filling her water bowl etc.
The time passed faster than you could imagine, just as it felt my entire time with her had. I cooked a pound of thick cut bacon on the flat top, poured the grease over her food and then put the pound of bacon on top for an afternoon snack. She lay under Rivers high chair as we ate dinner, managing to scarf down his droppings and the pepperoni pizza we gave her. After Rivers brushed his teeth and got on his jammies, Molly came into his room one last time and laid down for a story. My oldest son was now in bed, we had eaten dinner, and Llyn had fed Ridge as Molly lay at their feet. There was no more delaying. We walked into the back yard, Molly still managed to catch a tennis ball when I threw it right to her. We got a picture of me, Llyn, Molly and Valley, a subtle reminder of that chapter in our life where it was just me, Llyn, and the girls, as we called them. A snapshot in time that served as a reminder that life is full of chapters that end while new chapters begin.
Once again, I loaded her into my truck, along with Ridge, as my sister in law and her husband had arrived an hour earlier, they stayed behind to watch Rivers as Llyn climbed in the passenger seat. We made the same 25 minute drive north, as Llyn and I both laid our hands gently on Molly behind the passenger seat. With one hand on the wheel and the other on Molly, my mind raced through the countless hours of time spent together. There’s a line in a country song “I wish good dogs never got plain old” and I couldn’t help but let that mix into my thoughts the entire drive, as Molly had made it to being just plain old.
We arrived, I grabbed her leash, and Llyn grabbed Ridge to strap him to her chest. I proceeded to get Molly out from behind the passenger seat one last time. She walked in from the truck, as I led her in with my left hand as Llyn held my right, as I’ll be damned if she’d be carried, with a brief pause before the door to admire the ongoing sunset in progress. It was the perfect Midwestern summer day, like so many days we had spent with her before. “Is this Molly?” the attendant somberly asked. I replied with a simple “Yes” all the while my heart burning and my mind racing wanting to reply with she’s not just Molly, she’s so much more than that. They proceeded to take her back to get her ready, and ushered Llyn, Ridge and I to our room. After the formalities were taken care of, they informed us Molly would be in shortly. Despite having so much time with that dog, of course we wanted one more visit. They brought her in and let us know they would come back whenever we pushed the button to inform the tech we were ready. I gently took her collar off, as she never wore that thing when we were at the house. There she sat, with that same grin I’d seen more times than I could count, present, so easy, so accepting, so loving. As Llyn meandered towards the table to press the button to let them know we were ready (she knew I would have sat there with that dog until Midnight), I held Molly in my arms. The tech came in, and with Llyn on her left and me on Molly’s right, and two tennis balls laying by her chest; the tech proceeded. Then in the haze of emotion you hear “I’ll give you a minute.” The tech left. I didn’t cry, I wept, and in that moment I learned the difference between the two. As both mine and Llyn’s tears ran onto her fur, Molly managed to comfort us, even in her passing and teach us lesson’s in the process. I remember looking up and staring out the window, seeing all the cars racing down the freeway, a stark reminder that the world doesn’t stop just for you. All those people will never know the pain I felt, I thought.
The drive home was a draining of what Llyn and I thought were every tear we had. After we got home I meandered out to the back yard, alone, and sat at the edge of the shed and hucked a tennis ball into the yard, knowing there was no chance it would be retrieved. Molly wasn’t there.
That night I got up to pee, and I didn’t have to step over anything, as Molly wasn’t there. The next day, I proceeded to attempt to move forward in life. You gotta put your boots on and more forward, it’s that simple, I thought. As I got ready for the day, made the coffee, brushed my teeth, I walked out onto the back deck to turn on the one sprinkler I run manually, peered out into the yard and there lay two tennis balls. I could have sworn I picked up the yard and just threw that one, I thought. A mild smiled cracked on my face. I proceeded to go feed the dogs, as I had done a thousand times over, but only grabbed one bowl for first time in 5 years. Molly wasn’t there.
As the day proceeded the texts started pouring in upon the news of her passing. We had told numerous people on Sunday what was coming, and Llyn managed to pull herself together enough to share a beautiful sentiment mid-day Monday. I spoke with Molly’s normal Vet that morning, who already knew why I was calling before she even took me off hold, as she had seen the PAW network report. She informed me we did the right thing, and now we knew what was causing the issues, but to know Molly wasn’t in pain leading up to the weekend, and it was the best option, as Bone Cancer was typically aggressive. The sentiments on Sunday and Monday were a testament to just how great a dog Molly was, and how much people have grown to understand who we are as a family, along with what she meant to us.
“I’m sorry man, but you know it’s for the best. She was a great one.” – Towe
“These are tough times but nobody cherishes life’s great moments better than you, Jeff. You and Molly shared one heck of a journey together.” – Cassidy
“JZ. Love ya man. Enjoy the last moments with her. I didn’t get em with Mud and it sucked.” – Maz
“Sorry to hear about Molly. Just so you know if it wasn’t for her I would of never entertained getting an inside dog. She changed my perspective on it. Kind of cool to reflect on that for a minute. You know you had a good one when she changed how others think. Plug that in for a minute. I know that don’t help, but I thought you should know that.” – Cort
“Love you, fellas. Sorry about ole Molly girl, Jeff. Whit and I are saying a prayer for you guys.” – Benny
“Hey man, sorry to hear about Molly. She’s the best fetcher I’ve ever known.” – JA
“Just wanted you guys to know you have been on my mind today. You both gave Molly, sweet Molly, a wonderful life. One filled with love, laughter and fun. You also gave her a gift by allowing her to peacefully pass; undoubtedly one of the most difficult things you experience. I love you both and hope that you are remembering all the wonderful memories you have with Molly.” – Roberta (my mother in law)
The messages and sentiments were endless and I know it isn’t easy for folks to let down their guard and be honest about things like that. With all those countless people over the years that Molly got to be around, there was always a fun endless debate about what Molly really was. Part lab, chow etc? I refused to ever find out, and it was always a fun discussion amongst friends and family, but does it really matter what she was? She was a great dog is what she was, and that’s all that matters. Yet another lesson that dog help teach me, it’s what’s inside that’s what really counts.
Enjoying life with that dog was like something out of a novel, all while my favorite song played in the background. That dog had helped me go from a lost young man to a responsible, loving, caring husband & father. As Monday rolled into Tuesday, I realized, Molly will always be here, a scuff on our soul that we don’t want removed. She’ll always be with us because she helped shape what the Zillich family is all about: be here, enjoy the moment, love and make the memory.
Turns out, I didn’t want a pure bred yellow lab pup as a kid, I wanted a true companion, and I got that in Molly.
I was lucky enough to have 13 years with Molly, the whole time her being easy, happy, loving, accepting and present. It’s the little things I’ll cherish the most. Countless hours watching the Mariners in the shed with her at my feet (the Mariners never did make the playoffs during her time, I guess no dog can live that long), the walks, the fetching, Rivers throwing the ball for her, seeing her snuggled up on the couch with Llyn and everything else few and far between. She was with me through my time at Clemson, my Clemson graduation, a proposal, a marriage, a wife, another dog, the birth of two children, 6 Clemson ACC Titles, 2 Clemson National Titles, at my feet when the Seahawks beat the Niners in the 2013 NFC Title game, at my feet as Cort and I watched Beast Mode’s Beast Quake run, and with me through the Hawks winning their only Super Bowl Title, while present for my first house, in addition to a list of things too long for words. All told, she lived at 8 residences in 3 states and kicked the bucket on a sun splashed Sunday evening and I got to spend damn near every moment leading up to it being there, present, happy and in the moment. You can’t ask for more than that. So when my father uttered over the phone Sunday before her passing “Well, our pets teach us valuable life lessons,” before telling me he had to get off the phone, as I knew it was too difficult for him to discuss, I thought back to the time when I was a young kid and wandered out past the pool in our yard, where my Father was in the process of burying one of our hunting dogs. He looked up at me and said “Can I be alone a minute, Jeff?” That was the one time I ever saw my father truly weeping. I remember thinking, it’s just a dog, as I sadly walked away. More than 25+ years later, I get it. I refuse to ease the pain of Molly’s passing by telling myself she was “just a dog” as that cheapens everything we got to experience together, but I’ll be ok, and it’s in large part thanks to the lessons I learned with that yellow lab mix named Molly, who will forever be far from “just a dog.” So if someone were to say, “just a dog” I can kindly smile to myself now knowing they aren’t as lucky as I am, because I now know with the right dog, that saying couldn’t be farther from the truth. ~
Living the Dream 