She Waited… — The Doula Life

Molly Mundy

August 30th, 2008 - February 27th, 2025

Two months ago, the unthinkable happened;

We lost our beloved dog.

I call it unthinkable, all the while giggling at myself because this was the least unthinkable thing to happen — because truthfully for the last few years, as Molly continued to wow us with her health and her age, we were still always, in the back of our minds, anxiously anticipating the day we’d have to say goodbye.

I guess what would be more appropriate is — the “I don’t want to think about it” and “I can’t imagine a life without her in it” happened.

I have spent the last few years showing up on social media, being as open as I can be about the loss of my babies, William and Vienna. I have shared the heartbreak and grief and complexities of it all — and I have also shared the overwhelming joy of welcoming our daughter Sena and stepping into the biggest role of this lifetime; of being her mother. The one constant I haven’t really talked about? Well… my dog, Molly.

So, today, I want to tell to you about my dog.

My first baby.

Well… what could love you more than a puppy, right?

So, I went onto Kijiji (remember Kijiji?) as one does, and I started looking at puppy ads. I found “Chihuahua x Toy American Eskimo Puppies For Sale” — and instantly, I knew this was a sure sign. One of my dearest friends had an American Eskimo and a Chihuahua, so I figured what were the odds that I’d find a mix of both? Without even looking at the puppies… I was already sold.

I wasted no time; I picked up my girlfriend in my tiny little Toyota Echo, and off we went to go see this adorable litter of puppies.

Upon walking into this strangers house, I was met with 5 of the cutest (and tiniest) puppies you had ever seen. Molly was the biggest and fluffiest of the litter — but she was still so small that she could fit right in the palm of your hand. A tiny, 1 pound, fluff ball. After haggling the woman down $100, we agreed I would purchase Molly at the bargain price of $350. I eagerly paid the woman with my recent 21st birthday cash, and was told to come back to pick her up in 4 weeks.

If you know me, you would know there was no way I could have waited 4 whole weeks to see her again; so I’d go and visit her, and often. Unfortunately, on one of the days I swung by, I found her living conditions to not be ideal — so I didn’t think about it twice, and naively brought her home with me that day, not entirely knowing what having a dog so young would entail. She was only 6 weeks old (probably shy 2-6 weeks of when she should have been separated from her mother). That was the day she officially became my baby and I became her Mum. She was my Molly!

From that day forward, Molly and I were inseparable.
We ***both*** had so much love to give and we willingly gave it to each other. We were a team, her and I. A packaged deal. My sister-in-law the other day said “I actually don’t know you without Molly? She has literally *always* been with you.” … and it is the truth. I went no where, and did nothing, without her.
From day one, Molly was a people dog. She always eagerly greeted everyone with a wagging tail and **the most** **genuine** excitement — she really made you feel loved and special, that is for sure.
She was a fantastic dog, and truthfully, I don’t even know if dog is the best word to describe her, because she felt human to me and to so many of the people that loved her.
Molly was not just affectionate, but she was loyal to a fault. You might think all dogs are loyal and they probably are to some standard, but not like Molly. Molly has been by my side through the thick of the thick — even when I did not show up for her in the ways I would want, or I should have been.

Molly loved me at a time in my life when I felt no one else did.

Molly was my comfort when I went through my first miscarriage, single and alone.

Molly excitedly welcomed my first nephew Levi with me — and she instantly became the best, most patient dog in the world. Especially with children.

Molly was my joy when I was first diagnosed with lupus; the thought of going home to her and her hospital visits kept me strong and helped me fight.

Molly was my cheer team and got me outside and exercising everyday when I was in recovery.

Molly was with me when I first met my husband and fell in love (and was my protector when she thought he was stealing me away from her lol). Scott met her on our first date; loving Molly too was a prerequisite.

Molly traveled with me to Whistler when I moved away from my home, family and friends for the very first time.

Molly was my comfort, confidant and companion while I healed from a sexual assault.

Molly shared in my joy and was by my side when Scott proposed. (we both said an enthusiastic “yes!”)

Molly walked down the isle with us on our wedding day. She even crashed our reception.

Molly cuddled me and grieved with me while having our first miscarriage; labouring and delivering in our home.

Molly rejoiced with me when we found out I was pregnant again.

Molly anticipated the arrival of our baby with me and stayed by my side throughout 16 weeks of bed rest.

Molly mourned with me over the loss of our beautiful friend, Laura. She was special to her, too.

Molly broke with me when Vienna died. She never left my side.

Molly rejoiced with me again when we got pregnant with William; and she grieved all over with me again when he died, too.

Molly was patient and still affectionate on my worst days.

Molly connected with my pregnancy with Sena — it was the first time I really saw her do that. She made me believe it would be different this time, and when we finally brought Sena through the doors of our home, Molly celebrated with us.

The day I brought Sena home, Molly had already been by my side for 15 years. This was the biggest moment and change for our family, and I know — Molly felt that weight.

Our lives had officially, drastically changed overnight. And Molly went from being the apple of our eye to, truthfully, a bit of an after thought for a little while. Even though our hearts were overjoyed, we were in a different kind of survival mode — parenthood — we were learning all about this new human and finding our groove as a family. She was so patient; often found at the end of the bed guarding the room. Wanting to stay in the loop of what was going on, but also at times, hesitant to get too close.

As time went on, and we slowly got out of the newborn haze, we really got to relish in our time as a family and Molly shared in that joy with us. Going for walks, playing outside, trips to the boat in the summer, cuddles on the couch… it was the bliss we all had dreamed about.

We finally arrived; we were a family. We were happy. We were safe. And we could exhale.

That’s when I saw Molly slowly starting to change.

Our once rambunctious girl, now 16 years old, was slowing down. I really noticed the change in her after Sena turned a year old. Slowly, symptoms crept in and we started to have that dreaded conversation “is Molly still happy? is she still comfortable? is she still living her best life?” … and the answer was always a resounding yes.

Molly loved life. She really was a happy dog. She played in the snow and ran on the grass and barked with excitement when people came over.. all the way until the very end. Honestly, what a gift.

One day we noticed her dragging one of her legs a little bit. We didn’t know if she had injured herself, or worse, if this was something neurological. Her leg didn’t improve by the next day, so we took her into the vet to be examined.

Heading into the Vet, we knew that she was old… we knew her hanging on till this age had already been such a gift. We really had no idea what to expect — but the vet reassured us that this wasn’t a neurological problem, but the only way to figure out what was really going on would be through extensive testing (x-rays, MRI’s, etc), Due to her age and the treatment possibilities, there was no point in doing more investigating — if she required surgery or certain medications, we were not sure if she could tolerate it. We were given a pain med to keep her leg comfortable and told to keep an eye on it — that Molly could live for another 2 weeks at the very worse, or could be another 6 months. We really had no idea, but we walked away feeling hopeful.

The next morning, I was woken up by her yelping, or at least I thought that is what it was. I couldn’t tell if I was imagining it or hearing things, if this was just a worried trauma response — but I sent Scott downstairs to go see if she was okay. When I came downstairs to check and see what was going on, I was met with Scott and Molly at the bottom of the stairs, and I instantly knew things were not good.

Molly had taken a drastic turn overnight — she was in pain; and now we were scrambling to get her in to see the vet as soon as possible.

We quickly dropped our daughter off at daycare and we flew to the emerg vet; as Molly cried in the car, the anxiety and worry was palpable. Upon arriving and after she was inspected, that was when we were met with the awful news — “there is nothing we can do to help your dog.”

Not even 24 hours after our previous vet appointment… after we were hopeful we had some more time with her.

This was the end. And we were not going to get to leave with her.

We then had to do the “unthinkable” … we had to say our goodbyes.

Loss and losing someone who was a part of us was unfortunately, not new territory… but no matter how many times you practice saying goodbye, it never gets any easier.

We played Molly some of our favourite songs and sang to her and thanked her for making our lives so full. We made sure she left this world feeling loved; and knowing the impact she has had on both of our lives. She then slipped away peacefully; safe in my arms.

16.5 years I had with Molly. Almost my entire adult life. I got to share her for 12 of those years with Scott. We were a family; and she really was our baby… but unlike most babies, Molly expected nothing in return. She was never needy— all she ever wanted was our love. Although we were crushed for her to go, deep in our hearts, we knew we were given such a gift to have her with us for this long.

We knew she waited.

She waited for us to be okay, before saying goodbye. She waited until I had someone else to love and take care of, and to love and take care of me.

We knew she was sent to do a job in this world, and her job was complete; she had a new one to do now.
I take comfort in knowing that now our babies have her in heaven, or wherever they might be. They are all so lucky to have each other.

Molly was so much more than a dog.
She was my guardian angel. She was my bestfriend. My first baby forever.

Molly, we love you, and we will forever. No other dog/human will compare to you. We hope you have all the yogurt containers and belly rubs over the rainbow bridge — we can’t wait to see you again.

Thank you for waiting.