Everyone who knew  Molly fell in love with her.  At first she could be somewhat aloof, but once she got to know you, she would reward you with a toothy grin.  When she first did this as a puppy, I thought she was being aggressive because her lips were curled back.  The vet laughed and told me that only the most intelligent of dogs were capable of displaying this rare, canine version of a smile.

Molly loved to run and enjoyed a fabulous social life in Toronto's off-leash parks and ravines.  She played well with other dogs and never bullied another animal, nor was she ever picked on.  Although she loved wading in water and getting wet, she preferred to have her paws on firm ground.  She swam only out of necessity.

Molly became a little sister to an only child, our daughter Katie who was just seven when Molly came to live with us.  Through the ups and downs of adolescence and the teen years, Molly truly was Katie's best friend.

My husband Paul had never had a pet before.  Molly was my pet, he said, and he vowed not to have anything to do with her.  That resolve lasted for one day and he fell for Molly just as I knew he would.  If he could have sought divine intervention to keep Molly alive at any cost, he would have. He grieves her still.

Molly was my constant companion and confident.  She went everywhere with me.  When Paul and Katie left for the day, it was just Molly and me.  As my vet said, Molly was the "poster child" for companion.  She coped miraculously with her congestive heart failure, and when it was time for her to go to the rainbow bridge, she went peacefully.

Sara-Jane Wearing