Tuesday morning Abby went out to unlock our dog, Molly, and found she had died in her sleep during the night.
Molly was such a good dog. Someone abandoned her and she wandered onto the farm about seven years ago. We knew she was old then but didn’t know exactly how old. She was perfect for our family. I am not an animal person. Neither is Joseph. But we liked Molly. She let the kids play with her, would bark when an unknown man drove up (she’d never bark at women), and was afraid of loud noises like thunder and gunshots.
The kids were understandably upset their beloved pet was now gone. Gideon asked me why Molly died. I told him, “Molly was old. It was just time for her to die.” He walked off and then a few minutes later came back and timidly asked me, “Mom, am I new or old?” I told him he was new. Then he answered, “Good. I don’t want to die!” Oh man, way to pull at my heartstrings!
We had a good little discussion about death and resurrection and how everyone will die and some die when they are young. But Gideon refuses to call anyone old now. When you ask him if mom or dad or grandma or grandpa are new or old he will tell you “new.” If you ask who is older he will tell you “So-and-so is newer.” He doesn’t want to use the word old in reference to a living thing. Sweet, tender, little boy.
When you ask him what happened to Molly he will tell you she died but her spirit flew up to heaven and now she is running around have a good time. The big girls wanted to dig Molly’s grave themselves.
They worked hard and dug a deep hole. Later that evening some cousins came to visit. I went outside to get Henry who was crying because he fell down. I noticed Gideon, Jason and cousin H over by Molly’s grave with shovels. I asked them what they were doing and Gideon said, “H wants to see Molly!” Those boys! They were trying to dig her grave up. Thankfully I was able to redirect their attention to checking for chicken eggs instead.