Once I was a prized show dog. I traveled across the country, being preped and pimped and pranced through show rings from New York to Florida. With my pointy, sharp ears, lean but small frame and stick-straight, cropped tail, I was a sight to be seen. A boxer I am, red and sassy. My kennel name was even Red Hot Tamale. (Molly for short.) I won Reserve Winners Bitch and was loving my life.
But my flame was fleeting. Large dogs were winning over me and so I was relegated to breeding and locked away in a cold damp cage. Alas, that too was short-lived. I gave birth to three puppies and that was all. My depression soon made me infertile. After years of no more puppies, I was given away.
I jumped in a truck, not knowing where I was going. I was excited because I LOVE CAR RIDES! Nothing else mattered too much. I arrived at a new house. I smelled and sniffed. I sat and waited to be taken home; not realizing I was home. I was with two strangers and a cat that had tasty poop and food. But I couldn’t do anything right. I was constantly in trouble; always getting yelled at when I at the poop or food. I was being feed different food, was in a different place and with people that wanted to pet me when I wanted to lick their face. I was not happy.
Then the car rides started. I went everywhere with my new owners. I was always hanging out the window. Wind blowing through my hair, sun on my face. I was beging to think this was paradise. I even got to sleep on the floor with a blanket.
Then I started thinking about my old life and like a toddler I started acting out…
Read the Adventures of Molly Part 2 to see what trouble I got myself into.