Bad to the Bone

Sometimes I wonder if Molly isn't all there. Okay, I always wonder that. I mean this dog has some very strange habits. For example, in the morning, she will often jump up on the bed, and just roll around like an idiot, tongue hanging out of her mouth, and a look of madness in her eyes. There's no rhyme or reason to it, and I do not see the benefit of this exercise (unless she enjoys covering our bedspread in fur), but nonetheless, Molly does it almost every morning, without fail.

I've always assumed that if Molly were an actual child (some would question whether I have accepted the fact that she is not), she would be one of those kids with a really active imagination. I'm sure these days, they would diagnose it as something, when really it means she would just know how to function without an electronic device (weird, eh?). Tonight, she proved my theory to be true. The other day, I bought her a tartar bone at Global Pet Foods. Molly always used to have one of these on hand, and for whatever reason, we just stopped buying them. Maybe we like the fact that she chews up our clothes for lack of anything else to chew on? I don't know why we discontinued her tartar bone collection, but we did- until Saturday. I was at the store, picking up some cranberry concoction for our oldest fur-baby, Lucky (tabby cat/Molly's biggest hater), and saw the tartar bones. Thinking lovingly of my pooch, I grabbed one, and headed home. I've never seen Molly act the way she did when we gave her the bone. She started gnawing on it furiously, and I imagined between bites, she was saying "Thank you, thank you, thank you! My teeth are FULL of tartar- you are the best! I love you so, so, so much. Best. Day. Ever." I noticed, however, that if I even walked by Molly as she chewed on what looked like this deformed chicken ball caked with too much batter, she would growl. I bent down, placed my hand over (not on) her head, and she sneered her lips and snarled at me like I was the biggest jerk on the planet. What the deuce, Molly???? I gave you that gift, and I can take it back if I want to! Not that I was thinking about it, but once the challenge was presented...well, I wasn't backing down. Plus, we wanted to get out for a walk, and the dog would not move. If we tried to put her leash on- growl. Flash teeth. Furrow brows. You know how it is. Molly was not so pretty anymore.

Finally, I got sick of it. I went behind Molly, and picked her up. I held her in an almost upside down fashion, and boy did she get mad. She barked and growled, but guess what? The bone fell out of her mouth, and onto her bed, where Ashley swooped down, picked it up, and put it in the freezer for a later date. I put Molly down, and there she was- my sweet, loving beagle with her you'll-do-anything-for-me brown eyes, and her enthusiasm for the world. No more anger (God, where did that come from?), no more ferocity, just a happy little pup once more, eager to go for her walk. Man, she is like hot and cold sometimes. I only wish I could forget upsetting events like she can.

So, that is all leading up to the hilarity that ensued tonight. Back to Molly's imagination...

I decided since Molly has been so good the last few days that I would give her back the bone tonight. I assumed it would keep her amused for a little while, and add to her already present exhaustion from the heat and her walk earlier in the evening. I took it from the freezer, and her tail wagged instantly- and don't think I didn't notice the flying fur that comes with her wagging tail- ugh (sidenote: I did order a dog brush today called the Furminator. Kind of excited!). I chucked the bone onto her bed, where I figured she would lay and chew it. Apparently, she wasn't ready. But she couldn't just leave the bone on the bed- what if someone stole it? That Tucker is always looking to get at her goods. And Lucky might have peed on it- so what is a dog to do? She picked it up, and carried it around in her mouth for a while. Crying, of course, while doing this. I can only imagine the torment she was feeling- "This is my bone, but I don't want it right now. I can't leave it out in the open, so what ever will I do?" After the agony of watching her pace back and forth, whimpering about her latest situation, she finally took the bone to her bed. Here she goes, I thought.

I was wrong.

Molly had a bright idea- she was going to bury her bone in her bed, of course! Brilliant! All she would need to do was dig a hole, place the bone in it, and then cover it with the dirt she dug out of the hole. Fail proof. Except, oh wait- her bed isn't made of dirt. Nor can she dig through it. But Molly didn't let that stop her. She started digging like it was nobody's business, bone securely in jaw, completely focused, and using all her upper body strength. She dug and dug and dug until finally (in Molly's head), the hole was good enough for her precious possession. I watched her as she placed it down, exactly where she had been digging, and then pushed it in with her nose- just in case, you know. It was then that I thought to take a video (I'm sorry I did not capture the magical digging, because it truly was admirable how much dedication she showed). Here is what Molly proceeded to do next:

That's right...she is "covering" the bone with the "dirt" she dug up previously to make the hole. Then, when she was finished, she pranced away like "Ha! Nobody will ever know my bone is there, and I can come back for it when I feel like it." Good grief. Twenty minutes later, here is the scene:

Blurry, but she was so excited I couldn't get her to be still for one second.

I love this dog.