We came to the end of an era, as they say, on our farm last week. Mollie, our old faithful dog, passed away at the age of nearly 16 years. We got her on our oldest daughter Susanna’s 19th birthday in November 1999. When you think of the fact that we have lived here for 30 years, her life spanned more than half that time. While less than perfect as far as even dogs go, she was still a fixture here, and a lot of stories could be told about her.

At an early age for Mollie, the boys and I hauled her along on the tractors. She rode along in the skid loader with the boys until she was too large for that. In our more active days, she would beg to go along on the back of the pickup – no cab for her. She liked to ride with her feet on the side of the bed or the wheel wells, watching where we went and letting the air blow over her. When I was able, I took her most everywhere I went. When I took her anywhere and stayed awhile, I would open the tailgate and let her off. She would never stray too far from the truck for fear that I would leave without her.

She fell off the truck once, when I was on the way to Joseph's. She was more careful after that. Another time, she jumped off at a stop sign to chase a squirrel. I tried repeatedly to get her to just stand on the truck bed without success. If it didn't suit to take her along, she would sulk like a child.

Mark took our bumper hitch cattle trailer down to the farm where we have heifers. Mollie wanted to ride along, and he told her to stay. When he got down there, she had climbed onto the hitch of the trailer and rode along anyway. We couldn't understand how she kept from falling off. After she could no longer get on herself and I couldn't lift her anymore, we had to drop such trips if one of the boys wasn't there to help her up. She also hurt her legs getting off. After, I got a golf cart she would ride, and she liked to spend the nights sleeping on it. Even this became too much for her after awhile, as she couldn't get up on it.

Another thing that insulted her was when we would get a new puppy. After she got over that, she was very protective of them until they were big enough to take care of themselves. She loved to race around all over the yard with them, especially if it snowed. For a while, she seemed like a young dog again. We picked up several puppies in her older years, and each time she would sulk for a couple of weeks. We would get a new dog because she seemed to be slowing down, but interestingly enough, she outlived them all, except the young dog we have now.

When the boys and I worked in the fields, if she didn't ride along out, after a while there she would be – begging for a ride or content to follow along. She would follow the haybine, rake, etc., all day long. She had one trait that irritated me; she would run along right in front of the windrower or chopper head. One time I was chopping hay with a power-shift tractor. It was easy to change gears, and I had plenty of power, so I decided to see how fast she would go. I finally gave up, as each time I moved up a gear, she did too. I was chopping corn and was on the last four rows. She came down the center chasing a rabbit and almost jumped in the head.

Another time I went over to our neighbor’s for something. After awhile, Mollie walked in the lane. How she knew I was there, I don't know, as there is a large hill between our places and a busy highway. She seemed to also know that the old school house that we own at the end of our road was part of her domain. It was not unusual to come home and she was up there sitting on the porch rug.

Mollie was also a good groundhog dog. Groundhogs didn't have much of a chance because of her size and speed. I was raking hay at Joseph's and she was following me. I saw a groundhog half way up through the field and pointed to it and said, "Mollie get it." She took off running. Before she got there, she went into the cornfield and entered the hay close enough that the groundhog didn't know she was coming until it was too late. In the last year or so, it was heartbreaking to watch her try to do the things she always did and couldn't.

A dog with such intelligence was the same dog that dug up Leah's flowers, up to the very week she died. She would also run away during thunderstorms and was afraid of fireworks and guns. She could hardly walk, but several weeks before she died, she tried to run off three times while Mark was feeding cows. A storm was coming up, and she was going up through the pasture when Mark stopped her.

Mollie was a good dog with children. When she was a year or so old, she didn't like children but quickly changed and became fond of children and would tolerate anything they would do or simply move on. The children and grandchildren's favorite was to sit on her back or lean over her while she was lying down. She was equally nice to anyone else who came, after barking to let us know that someone was here and letting them know that she was also. An exception was two people who teased and tormented her as a puppy and as she grew older. She never forgave them and showed it when they came.

She did have the habit of jumping up on people in her younger days. Once a rather dignified visitor wearing a dark suit came. While he was walking toward the house, Mollie jumped up and put muddy paw prints on his back. The only thing we could conclude was that she wanted to make an "impression" too because we thought by that time she had outgrown such foolishness.

Her barking was interesting. Like learning to know people, I soon could often tell by the way she barked, why she was. A certain kind of bark meant the cows were out, another that someone was here or another that she was settling a cat fight. She did have a moonlight bark that was annoying. You didn't know if a skunk had passed through or she was passing news to a neighbor dog or just keeping the moon company.

In the last several years, I bought dog treat bones that she was fond of. She came to the door when she thought it was time for bones and barked until someone gave her some or she grew tired of waiting. She no doubt did this because I would often make her beg before I gave her some. She became quite skilled at catching them.

Several months ago, she and Mandy, our young dog, started to fight. I went out to see what was going on. I had left the bag of bones on a chair on the porch and forgot about them. Mollie grabbed the bag and was leaving with it. Although Mandy didn't care much for them, it seemed she thought Mollie had no business taking French leave with the bag. This happened several times. She would also go to the basement door in the morning and bark if she thought Mark didn't get up early enough.

One of the most touching experiences I had with her was a time I took her along to our heifer farm near Greencastle. I went into the old milk house for something. As I came out, the steps tipped and I fell down into the driveway. I was already having trouble with my legs at the time and was slightly hurt. My worst problem was that I couldn't get up without something to hold on to. I tried crawling back to the milk house, but I had fallen a ways out into the driveway, and the stones hurt my legs. I called Mollie and she came and stood beside me. I was able to grab her collar and neck, and stand back up. She seemed to realize I was hurt and stood still till I was able to get up and walked along beside me to the pickup.

While only a dog, she was affectionate and had a character of her own, and was well worth her keep. She will surely be missed. The other night, I thought at first that I heard her bark!  PD

Raymond Rodes is a Progressive Dairyman reader in Waynesboro, Pennsylvania.