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Do Dogs Really Rule?

28 17:39:38

Those of us who are pet owners treat our furry friends as members of the
family. And like our kids, of course they are cuter, smarter, jump
higher, run faster, play harder and do just about anything better than the
next door neighbors. But nobody has a dog like mine. I mean nobody.
Right?

Molly knows what I’m going to do next before I know it. When I think she
is in deep sleep she’s actually watching with both ears cocked. She’s
the worst clock-watcher I ever met. Knows exactly when it’s time to eat,
time to walk and time to take the laundry out of the machine. Like
elephants running from a Tsunami, her radar
ears, soft as velvet, detect storms before they actually hit.

We used to live on the 24th floor of an apartment building in New
Jersey, directly across the Hudson River from the World Trade Center.
Our windows faced all of lower Manhattan and the Twin Towers. On the
morning of September 11, 2001, Molly’s behavior took on a dramatic
change just minutes before the planes actually crashed into the towers.
Having just showered, I was looking out the window, towel drying my
hair. The view had always been spectacular; it was one of the reasons
we took the apartment. At night it was magical. That morning was
particularly sparkling. But I couldn’t figure out why Molly was so agitated.

She whined, panted and raced from room to room. She wouldn’t let me
comfort her. She usually exhibits similar behavior during severe
thunderstorms. But, as we all know, it was a gorgeous, clear morning in
that part of the world and the sky was a brilliant cobalt.

A few minutes later I watched the nightmare enfold before my eyes. First
the planes, then the fires; people flying from windows, the buildings
crashing down, the billowing dust and black smoke that eventually came
across the river. Molly jumped into my arms, buried her head and
trembled. I trembled too and somehow the skies over New York City
have never again been quite that blue.

We don’t live there anymore and Molly misses our walks along
Newport’s River Walk. Even in winter, watching the tugs, the barges,
and the great ships that plow those historic waters night and day was
like chicken soup for soul. Molly had lots of pals there, but she gravitated
to those her own size or smaller which is hard to find since Molly is a six-
pound black, white and tan Chihauhau with large ears and a big heart.

Unlike Paris Hilton’s dainty teacups, Molly is not for decoration. She
demands being taken out and loves rolling in dead things. When I’m
sick with the flu she never leaves my side. I’ve had many dogs and cats,
but I can’t imagine life without Molly. Like the great love of your life, it only happens once, and I know one day she’ll be gone. But since the
present is all that really matters, Molly and me are gal pals forever.

Susan Scharfman - EzineArticles Expert Author

Susan Scharfman is a freelance writer-editor at http://www.susanscharfman.com.