Molly

Amelia - Issaquah, Washington
Entered on November 19, 2008

Standing proudly at two feet tall, Molly was the best friend I could wish for. With long golden fur and a

long and soft yellow tail that was always wagging, she was always there when I needed her. Coming home from school,

I would always go over to the neighbor’s yard and play with her for hours on end. She was the perfect size to be a

great horse, and she was, giving the best rides ever, at least in the eyes of a 6 year old.

“Bark, Bark!” Head tilted to the sky, Molly greeted me with her deep bay and her gentle eyes. She licked my

entire face, then sat down and wagged her tail expectantly, cocking her face to the side and staring me straight in

the face with her deep auburn eyes. I picked up a ball and threw it as hard as I could and she ran across the yard

to retrieve it. Every day was spent playing with Molly, and I spent much of my 4-7-year-old life playing with her.

She soon learned to expect nothing less from me. Once the neighbor kids were there too, we would all play together,

playing as soldiers in too many water fights to count. Molly ran around happily, always there, even though she was

sometimes in the background.

Molly was a special kind of friend who always listened to me, never caring what I talked about, just as

long as I was talking. Though she was not my dog, I treated her like my own. She belonged to the next door

neighbors. I was always at their house anyway, hanging out with the “cool” older girl of the family. At that time

Molly was my best friend, at least for a couple years. However, as nothing gold can stay, nothing that good could

last.

When I was seven, I came home from school expecting to find Molly there, wagging her tail like always, only

to discover an empty yard. I knocked on the door and asked if Molly was in the house.

“No,” I was answered solemnly. I thought it was strange, but didn’t imagine any grave possibilities until I

was informed that Molly had cancer, and would die in several months. She was allowed to come home from the

hospital. I did not realize at the time that she was sent home because there was no hope of her being healed. I

could not grasp this concept until I was harshly told the cruel truth.

“Molly will be dead before Christmas, and she’s not coming back.”

It was October, and I didn’t know what to do. I could only watch as she slowly grew more and more tired and

weak. It was immeasurably difficult to watch my best friend suffer, and even though she couldn’t speak, I could see

the pain in her eyes. As time went on, I watched helplessly as she struggled to even walk. We all attempted to make

her as comfortable as possible so as a result she would remember happy times when she was in heaven, so I was told.

It was a very hard experience for me. At seven years old, I was watching my world fall apart.

In the early days of December, Molly died. I couldn’t believe it. My best friend was gone. No matter how

the adults put it- passed, departed, gone on vacation; it still came down to the same thing: Molly was dead.

The experience was only made worse when Molly was replaced by a small, mean dog with a ceaseless bark. At

first, it was immensely hard to come home to the (evil, I thought) dog that replaced my best friend. I soon decided

against having anything to do with the new dog. She hated me anyway. The one time I tried to be nice and play with

her, she bit me, and then sat, snarling, staring with her cold, black eyes. As I backed off, she glared at me,

showing off her sharp, ugly, yellow teeth. After that, I vowed to have nothing to do with her. I stayed away from

her for a very long time. It was hard for me to adjust to the new situation, and I went over many times after Molly

died, expecting to see her, barking happily, only to be disappointed, walking up to see a yard without the laughter

and light that Molly brought to my world. Though the experience was not a fun one, my family and friends were

incredibly supportive. One friend from church helped me more than she will ever know, making me laugh and smile

even though it was a sad time.

When you are sad, you don’t feel normal. You don’t want to smile, or laugh: even normal living seems to

take great efforts. However, with the help of great friends, you can recover from even the worst situations. When

you’re life’s a mess, you always need someone to count on; friends are incredibly valuable when life isn’t fun.

That’s what friends are for, right? To cheer you up when you’re down? Well I’ll let you have your own opinion about

this, but you always need a friend; whether it’s a next-door neighbor’s dog, or a girl from school. Friends lift us

up and shape us in ways that seem to be crazy. In times of trouble, you need a friend. This, I believe.