[ SHOWGSD-L ] Doing Right By Molly
- From: Barbara Galasso <uwish@xxxxxxxxxx>
- To: Showgsd-l@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Tue, 08 Aug 2006 17:07:57 -0400
DOING RIGHT BY MOLLY
By
Barbara J. Galasso
I remember Poppa telling me that summer of 66’ that old Mr. Higgins
wanted to see me and I was to go to him right away. I jumped on my rusty
bike and peddled just as hard and fast as I could to get to his house. I
remember there were people standing outside of his bedroom door as they
made way for me to go in to his room. A gentle hand grabbed at my sleeve
and sad, “Boy, you must be very quiet when you talk to Mr. Higgins. You
mustn’t get him excited. Is that understood? I shook my head up and down
acknowledging what the doctor instructed me to do. I tiptoed across the
room to Mr. Higgins big old bed and looked down upon his kind face
riddled with the passage of time. I stood there staring at him, not
knowing what to say or do. He must have sensed my presence, for he
slowly opened his eyes and looked straight at me. His old hands began to
shake as he raised one up to touch my arm. His lips began to quiver as
he tried to utter a few words. I couldn’t hear him. He motioned for me
to come down closer to his face. I turned and looked at the doctor, who
instructed me to go ahead. As I gingerly lowered my face to his, I could
hear him whisper a few sentences to me. He said, in a voice barely
audible, “Johnny, you’ve always loved my German Shepherds. I want you to
take Molly home with you and raise her as your own. Your dad said it
would be all right.” I was about to protest because I knew how much
Molly meant to old Mr. Higgins. He raised a single finger to my lips to
prevent me from saying anything. “Do right by her Johnny. Do right.” He
slowly closed his eyes again and the doctor came over to lead me away.
Molly came home with me that day, but that was the last time that I got
to see old Mr. Higgins. I never got to thank him for his prized dog.
Molly stayed in my room that night and all the nights after. I remember
Molly cried and fussed for the first few days and then one night she
grew restless and began to howl. She whined and scratched at the door. I
called out to her, “What is it girl?” She ran to the window and jumped
up on the ledge and let out one long sorrowful howl. I went over to her
and scratched her neck. She lay down on the floor and for some reason I
joined her and laid down next to her as I wrapped her in my arms. The
next day, poppa told me old Mr. Higgins had passed away in his sleep the
night before. From that day forward, Molly was my dog. She followed me
everywhere I went. She was a very smart dog and learned quickly. Poppa
said she was only two years old.
One day when I took a bike ride, I took Molly for a walk along side of
me. Billy Mulligan and his Doberman by the name of Butch were headed
straight for us. Now I knew Billy’s dog was meaner than a rabid raccoon,
and Billy himself was no angel. I was about to cross the street when
Billy called out to me. “Hey Johnny, where you going with that flea
bitten dog of yours?” he taunted me. I knew there was no escaping him
now. “Oh, hello Billy,” I said in a matter of fact way. With his chest
puffed out and his head held high in a definite manner, he said, “Look
at the new collar I bought for Butch with my allowance.” I looked over
at Butch who was staring at Molly with his deep dark black eyes. He was
wearing one of those spike collars with all the teeth sticking into his
neck. “Doesn’t that hurt him?” I asked. “Nah, nothing hurts Butch. What
do you think; he’s a sissy?” “No I don’t think he’s a sissy. I just
think that looks painful.” For some reason, that was the wrong thing to
say to him. Billy began to scream at me, saying that the only one who
was a sissy was me and my scrawny dog Molly. Sensing my uneasiness,
Molly started to become restless. When I heard a low menacing growl, I
quickly glanced over at Butch. I saw the hackles on his back slowly
begin to rise. Molly began to pace and circle around me. Butch was twice
the size of Molly, him being a male and all. I knew she’d be no match
for him. Butch’s lips began to slowly pull back from his jaw exposing
his long, sharp white teeth. I started to say something to Billy, and
before I knew what was happening, Butch lunged for me. I was knocked to
the ground by the sheer force of his weight landing on my chest. I
covered my face with my arms. Molly already had her teeth in Butch’s
back. All I could hear were teeth snapping and jaws cracking and cries
from both dogs as they bit hard into one another. Butch had Molly down
on the ground by the throat. Without giving any thought to it, I picked
up my bike and with all the strength I had in me, I crashed it on to the
back of the mean angry dog. It must have been the angle of the bike and
the way it landed on him, because he yelled out in pain as the pedal
jabbed him in the eye making him release the hold he had on Molly’s
neck. Just then some of the neighbors had heard the noise and commotion
and came running out to assist us. Molly’s neck was bleeding as was
Butch’s eye. Both dogs were in obvious stress. Billy muttered some
obscenity in my direction as me and Mr. Clouse got Molly into his car to
take her to the vet’s office.
Although Molly was going to be all right, she would be left with a
permanent limp in her right front leg because of the torn ligaments and
muscles inflicted by her wounds from Butch. It was Butch who wouldn’t be
as lucky. After hearing from eye witnesses accounts and knowing of this
dogs troubled past, the town sheriff decided that Butch was a menace to
the general public and that he needed to be put to sleep. It was the
first time that anybody seen Billy break down and cry. He vowed to take
revenge on me and Molly. Somehow; I don’t know why, but I felt sorry for
Billy. Then my thoughts turned to old Mr. Higgins. What would he have
thought about poor Molly limping for the rest of her life? Somehow I
knew this wasn’t what he meant when he told me to do right by Molly.
That spring Molly had puppies with another one of old Mr. Higgins male
dogs that he gave to someone else in the neighborhood. She had six males
and one girl. The kids in the neighborhood used to come by to see them.
All except for Billy. He never came by much anymore. Then one day I saw
him walking down the street as I was playing with Molly and her puppies
on our front lawn. I called out to him, and he ignored me. Once again, I
called to him. “Come on over here Billy. I’ve got something to show
you.” “Go to hell” was his reply. I quickly picked up one of the all
black male puppies and ran over to Billy. “Get away from me you
murderer,” he spat out at me. “Billy, look what I have here in my hands.
It’s an all black puppy. I know you like black dogs. Come on take a
look.” He quickly glanced at the squirming ball of fur that I was
holding. “That’s nothing but a dumb German Shepherd”, he sarcastically
said. I chose my next words wisely. “Gee, I really need a good home for
this boy. Most people don’t want a black German Shepherd because they’re
different”, I tell him. “Different?” he asks with a quizzical expression
on his face. “Yeah, you know; most people when they think of German
Shepherds; they think of them as black and tan. That’s why these black
dogs are very rare, indeed. Yup, people would stand up and take notice
of you with a big old black dog.” With that Billy turned around and
against his better judgment decided to hold the puppy. The puppy
returned the favor by enthusiastically kissing him all over the face.
“Oh cut your slobbering,” Billy said. “We call him Higgins,” I told him.
“Higgins?” “Yeah that’s right. It’s because he always looked like a
little old man ever since he was born. And besides old man Higgins was
Molly’s breeder. So Higgins is his name.” And so began Billy’s love
affair with the German Shepherd Dog when he took home little old Higgins
that day. He and I also became good friends although Molly took longer
to warm up to him remembering him from the summer before.
Many summers went by since that summer of 66’. Molly and Higgins are no
longer here with us anymore, but her great grandkids are. She and her
son were buried next to old Mr. Higgins on the families plot on their
estate right where all his other animals were laid to rest. He would
have wanted it that way. And besides, I promised him I’d do right by Molly.
--
Barbara J. Galasso
CHIEFTAINS GERMAN SHEPHERDS
Visit my website at http://chieftainsgermanshepherds.com
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