99% of the time I'm a terrible person

This is Molly.



Last week I was driving home from work and it was dark out and Molly was standing the middle of the road. I pulled over, offered her an oreo, and she hopped in my lap. I sat with Molly on the side of the road for an hour trying to find her family. Molly belonged to someone. (No tags though.)

Poor Molly.

Eventually, I scooped her into my car and took her home. I pulled out the dog food and bowls and bed for when Maddie comes to visit and I googled “how to save a dog without calling animal control.” No way was I letting sweet Molly go in the clanker. Especially since it would cost over $200 to adopt her back out.

She drank a ton of water and then crawled into bed with me like a snuggle bunch. She came to work with me the next day. I posted on Craigslist and covered the neighborhood with signs. I thought that surely after the signs went up I would get a call. I mean, I had clearly stolen someone’s dog. Did they not want it back? I worried that she had managed to travel miles before I found her and that her family would never see the signs. I worried about a little girl missing Molly. I worried that I would never learn Molly’s name, that she would never be able to tell me who she was.

Hours passed and I found Molly a permanent home. After consulting various professionals and websites I decided to try to reunite her with her family for three days, and then she would have a new life and a new name and we’d just consider her a blessing.

After 24 hours I finally got a call. I was paranoid that this was just someone trying to steal her. (According to the internet, that happens.) But it was her dog sitter. Her family was on vacation, and the dog sitter only stops by once a day. Molly was just lonely, I guess. Broke the gate, went to find some oreos and friends.

Somebody told me they couldn’t believe I kept her for so long. “Anyone else would have called animal control and she’d be gone.” So I guess I’m not an asshole.