Outside With Molly


This is the look I get when Molly's ready to go outside. If you have a dog, or have ever had a dog, known a dog or seen a dog, you're probably familiar with this face. It's not subtle and it's easily recognizable. So outside we go.


Molly spends much of our time outside like this. If you can't see what she's doing, it's because she has her face planted in the dirt. Somewhere right under there is a mole. She can see the ground moving and hear him digging. She'll tilt her head in that cute way, listen very closely and then pound her nose into the dirt. She hasn't caught one yet, thank goodness, but there's still time.


If anything changes outside, like a few weeks ago when one of ours trees fell down, she has to investigate. If nothing has changed, she still has to investigate. If curiosity killed the cat, who knows what it would do to a Great Dane?


It's very rare to see this end of Molly when we're out for a walk. Normally she's blazing trails at full speed ahead, not turned around to find out where I am. As long as I have a hold of the leash and do my best to keep up, I usually get a great view of her hind end instead of her pretty face.


Molly's not a water dog like the girls were, so she rarely goes all the way into the ponds. She is, however, fascinated by the fish, frogs and crawfish that have homes on the property. She goes on high alert and uses all five senses to make sure she knows what's happening on her land at any given moment. That means muddy paws and a wet muzzle, but those I can live with.


And when we're back inside, she crashes. Hard. There's nothing better than a large, snoring dog who seems to be having dreams about the walk she just went on. It makes me smile.

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