It has been less than a year since we adopted a four-year-old rescue dog, a black Labrador named Little Molly for her size.
Her vocabulary is already amazing. With our previous dogs, I have always said: “If only they could talk,” so that I could find out why they loved their walkies so much, even on the most miserable of days; what they thought of the cat; and why they found that ball or stick so fascinating. But Molly, as we now call her, is a master of communication, using body language and facial expressions.
Molly was a very scared dog when she arrived. She would bark fiercely at people, cowering away from them, or roll onto her back in submission whenever we approached her. But now she is much happier and more relaxed.
She is attached to her favourite toy, Foxy, and the only thing she really dislikes is the vacuum cleaner. When I let her out into the fields behind our house, she loves to run about scattering leaves in her wake, before launching into the pond to fetch a stick.
When she tucks into her bowl of food at the end of the day and I ask her if she is happy, she looks at me with those endearing eyes and wags her tail. Her enthusiastic response tells me all I need to know.
Her soft toy, Foxy
The vacuum cleaner
Finding love with us
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