Molly the Collie

Eliza really wants a dog. She's been surfing sites and scouring dog pounds looking for the right one. I would love to have a dog, but I'm of deeply mixed feelings about it mostly because of the trauma of having to walk the dog as a kid. Two weeks ago, we took Eliza's friend D-Dog to the SPCA. It smelled there, and the dogs were cute. But we had the curator from hell (docent). I'm using art terms, maybe counselor is the word. And the dog they showed us ignored us when we took him out to play in the yard. The counselor from hell was right when she declared "There's not a connection here."

About a week ago, Eliza found a cute dog on the web, Molly, a collie. She was to be available to meet, along with ten or twenty other dogs, at Petsmart on Saturday. All week in the car, Eliza sang a one line song: "Molly the collie, Mollie the colly..." I started joining in, just to not be a party pooper. She was cute in the picture.

So today we went. At first it seemed Molly wasn't there. But then we found her. Eliza petted Molly, and then I reached out. She barked. She was either afraid of me or didn't like me. So I wandered around Petsmart looking at Hamsters and other dogs. Whenever I was in Molly's line of vision, she eyed me. Later, Molly barked at Eliza. It was over.