You, Who Introduced Me to My Love for Dogs

I cannot believe that the main reason for you entering my life was all because some random stranger decided to dump their golden puppy at some random kennel, only to never come back and retrieve you. It blows my mind how different my life could've been if that person actually came back to pick you up. Would I feel any different towards my love for Goldens? Would another Golden have taken that place in my heart? You were in my life from when I was five until I was about fifteen, and in that time, you managed to be held the closest to my heart (even if you did have lots of other "dog siblings" that you grew up around during your lifetime).

When I was five years old, I remember going to a random dog shelter with my great aunt, great uncle, and cousins; they were in search for the most perfect family dog, and I just went along for the ride. To this day, I don't remember why exactly I went but I'd just like to think there was something deep inside pushing me to go along. They ended up finding this cute little Boston Terrier, which they immediately named Socks because his little paws looked exactly as if he had been wearing little white socks (I still remember my great aunt pointing to my own little white socks and going, "his paws look identical to your socks"). Once we came back to their house with their new family dog, my mom immediately fell in love. This was the moment my life would start to change, even if I didn't exactly realize it in the moment.

I don't exactly remember the exact date that you entered our lives. All I remember from you coming into my family's lives was the fact that you were that small golden puppy abandoned at the kennel of our local vet clinic (the same vet clinic you always seemed to hate going to as you grew older... which was always understandable to us considering your past). To this day, I never could quite understand how a person could just give you up... but I am so thankful to whoever did because without them, I would have never had the chance to meet you. You. The small Golden Retriever mix who we never figured out who exactly you were mixed with, but you never really managed to go past the weight of 30 to 35 pounds. You may have been small, but boy did you have a large heart.

We named you Molly. My dad really wanted to name you Dolly, after Dolly Parton (as you can tell, we were a country music-loving family), but my mom wasn't really feeling the name Dolly as much. So, as a compromise, you became Molly. Although I do love the name Dolly, the name Molly fit you so much better.

For ten years, you were always there. Although you were quite the rambunctious little pup, you grew up into the finest lady there ever was. You were the strict dog-parent for when our future pups would enter the house as crazy as they would be (especially the Labrador and Australian shepherd puppies). You were the sweetest little cuddle of joy and I miss those daily cuddles you always gave so much. I still cannot believe that it's been seven years since I saw you last; seven years since I last kissed your head; seven years since I last spoke to you in that weird little baby-voice I always seemed to do whenever we were alone.

You were my first, Molly. You are my first. You will always be my first. No matter how many years go by, or how many dogs I end up adopting (we both know it'll probably be a lot), you will always be my first.