Ah the male spirit, protective, adventurous, bold… and then there is Molson Golden. Protective…when behind a secure fence, adventurous… in his own backyard, bold…only when there is a busy street and me firmly planted between him and the other dog. As someone who always had female Golden’s I always believed a male would, while always remaining gentle because let’s face it that is their inherent nature, a male of the breed would have some Kahoonas. This belief was quickly dispersed with the adoption of Molson.

My gorgeous, lion maned Molson was seen tiptoeing as quietly as he could past the German Shepherd who lived directly in the house in back of us. Apparently said German Shepherd had been known to be aggressive and had taken upon himself to use our backyard as his own that is of course before we moved in. After apprising ourselves of the situation and actually witnessing our big beautiful dog try to walk as softly and inconspicuously as he could, literally tiptoeing in his very own back yard, my husband went into immediate action and hired a guy that very day to install the a very large and very secure fence. Nobody puts baby in the corner!

As soon as the fence was up Molson was emboldened. While not exactly going directly up to the fence and looking that great German Shepherd Beast in the eye (just a small note I love German Shepherds, Carling my sisters G.S. was a definite love) he began relaxing and reclaiming every inch of his backyard secure in the knowledge the fence was between him and his nemesis!

This is my Molson, sweet and timid, that is why whenever an out of character escapade occurs a very funny thought pops into my head. Whether from shock of what I am seeing or putting humour to accept what I think is going to be a horrible outcome, this thought comes unbidden as I don’t think it is the usual line that registers in ones brain. As I present situations that transpire you will see exactly what I mean.

That first summer of recuperation and finding a place that he feels complete love, Molson was up at our country house in the Laurentians. While the kids were in day camp I would walk, feed and give our new puppy all the TLC he could handle. On one particular day, I believe it was the weekend because the kids and my husband were home Molson was on the property playing with a volleyball. For some reason I can’t quite remember my attention was diverted but when it was brought back to the whereabouts of our now playful pup he was no longer on the beach. He was in the lake half way between the beach and the bridge heading towards the area where motor boats fly through. You could see exactly what he was doing he was trying to gather the volleyball between his paws. Each time he lifted a paw out of the water to gather the ball he actually hit the ball further ahead of him as he dogpaddled behind it. It kind of looked like he was dribbling the ball.

What he was doing was getting into a seriously dangerous position totally oblivious to his circumstances and too far away to hear our panicked calls. That is the first time the errant thought of “and that’s all she wrote” popped into my brain as I assessed the situation seeing my puppy getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Obviously nothing bad occurred and I believe my husband got into our motorboat saving the day and retrieved our little retriever, adventure #1 survived! But the silly phrase “and that’s all she wrote” was strangely imprinted into my brain!

The next time we had an adventure of this type Molson was about 5 and we were living in Calgary taking our regular early morning walk in the Glenmore Reservoir. It was definitely Fall as the grass was wheat colored and well over three feet, a morning mist swirled around the area not yet burned off by the sun which was hiding behind the clouds. There was a peaceful quiet as no one but ourselves were there.

Three things occurred within the span of a few seconds. Molson was off leash about three feet from me. The quiet was suddenly shattered by a massive flock of Canadian Geese swooping in for a landing on the reservoirs water. As the squawks from the geese grew louder as they buzzed our heads en-route to their landing, Molson and I stopped walking and looked skyward.

Aside for the possibility of massive bird poop landing on your head it was a wonderful sight. It was this preoccupation with observing the geese overhead and their deafening honking that didn’t allow us to hear what was about to burst into our presence. As we both surveyed the scene up above we suddenly heard rhythmic thuds sounding absurdly close. Both of us swivelled our heads in tandem in the direction of these thuds and there coming directly towards us was a full sized, look at them antlers, hell you have got to be kidding, huge buck.

It bounded by us within 2 feet of Molson, as it gracefully loped into the distance covering a huge amount of space in a short time, Molson thinking “wow now this is what I would call a game of chase” took after the stag. All that you could see in the far distance was this amazingly graceful animal bouncing up and down getting smaller and smaller and all you could see of Molson was the grass which was taller than him parting in a line right in back of the dashing deer.

As the buck got smaller and headed towards the forest, as Molson ignored my shrieks of come back, as that little line of Molson parting the grass and the deer disappeared into the trees, once more “and that’s all she wrote “ came into my head and out of my mouth.

I think shock kept me a good five minutes standing in place all the while calling Molson’s name when suddenly in a distance I saw the parting of the grass, this time a line coming towards me with Molson bursting into sight several seconds later. No worse for wear, Molson had lived again to tell the tale and thankfully didn’t get the shit kicked out of him as he closed the distance to the deer.

The next event occurred at the very same place, Glenmore Reservoir, Molson’s ultimate playground where he daily met his fellow dog pals and ran free. Sometimes however there were uninvited guests also in attendance from the canine family, not so friendly, the ones that prayed in packs which sent out scouts to detract and engage our beloved pets. I speak of those wily coyotes.

On one such occasion when Molson was once more off leash because I had scouted around and had not seen or heard of a coyote present in the reservoir for weeks, out of the corner of my eye I saw a skinny wiry coyote. Once again Molson pulled the “look to the right, lean to the left game” and took off in a flash. Unfortunately that is the tactic the coyotes used with unfortunate results for many unsuspecting pets. The scout engages your dog, your dog thinks they are playing a game of chase and the coyote leads the dog straight into a pack of hungry coyotes.

I ran in horror after Molson who in turn ran in glee after the skinny looking dog wanting to play and once more, watched as both disappeared into the forest. And yup, don’t you know it “and that’s all she wrote” came smack into my head!

This time I didn’t stay in one place in shock, this time I ran screaming like a banshee towards the trees in the far distance preparing myself to make myself as large and mean as possible to fight and save my puppy. Thankfully Molson came out of the forest, Gomer Pile-ish happy, without a scratch on him. I had a few new grey hairs… but the dog was thrilled so all was right with the world!

These days I find myself saying that phrase more with resignation and sadness than horror and panic. Molson has started to slip into deep trancelike sleeps, not all the time thank g-d but enough to start adding more white hairs. Dawn started doing that after her bee sting reaction that last year. With Molson I think it is just old age sleep.

His breathing becomes very shallow so you can’t tell his chest is rising and even more disconcerting he is out cold with his eyes half open. He doesn’t seem to hear the keys jangling in the lock, he doesn’t hear or feel the footsteps approaching and he doesn’t feel the rubbing of his chest or the kisses on his face. Sometimes it takes quite a while to get him to open his eyes and realize we are there and always it is with the look “what?!”

Thankfully there are still more times of trying to tiptoe past him and not making it past the lifting of my foot as he raises his head to take in what it is I am up to. Usually it’s trying to get a snack without sharing, in case you are interested!

Source: Molsie's Blog of Animal Assistance Products, creator of the Hip Hammock & the Barrel Booster

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