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Bird's eye view of Tacoma
Bureau Chief Mary Ellen with her "Posse," aka Thy esteemed Mad Molly
& Thou Pixolator traversing thee Sand Dunes on one of our numerous Treks to
Thou Other Florence. (The Tomaso Collection)
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Yeah, I know this is supposed to be an Open Wheel
Racing Blogsite, but like Mary Ellen's told me a hundred times, It's my Blog
and I can Bloody Well write about anything I wish too...
I got the call Thursday evening, July 7th
around 5:30PM from Tacoma Bureau Chief Mary Ellen, for which I believe I heard
Mad Molly's final words; Err barking before racing off to the Other Side.
As that was so Surreal! Actually the weirdest
thing I've ever heard a Dog do. As she sounded like a Duck Quack-Quacking, as
Mary Ellen said, I think she's gone...
As bizarrely, or
was I-T Karmically? I was in the midst of reading Robin Miller's rant upon the
just publicly announced passing of Carl Haas when the telephone rang...
Even stranger yet, which just happens to be
one of those 'lil Co-INky-dences that makes Yuhs go Huh? I'd posted that
Sum-Sum-summertime post devoted to Molly on July 4th, which just so happens to
be the day she took a turn for the worse, when her lug-nuts seemed to have
fallen off, as Mary Ellen said I think she's had a stroke? (Although
perhaps it was a Seizure instead?) As Molly's entire
personality changed and she basically quit eating, which was 100% opposite of
her life-long M.O. (Modus Operandi)
NURSERY RYME
Obviously Y'all can guess where I came up
with my clever adaptation I used to muse to myself several years ago, since
apparently Small Dogs are more "Needy" then big Dogs, eh?
Mary Ellen had a Dog who's fleece was White as Snow,
And everywhere Mary Ellen went, Molly was Sure to follow!
REFLECTIONS
In absolutely NO way am I trying to compare
or contrast the following walks 'O life,
but I cannot help admitting that I haven't
balled my eyes out like this, albeit this time for days, since nearly a year
ago when my Numero Uno IndyCar Driver Justin B-I-G' UNIT Wilson died
effectively at Pocono Raceway, on August 23rd when flying debris rained down
from the sky...
Out of respect to this most wondrous canine, I've
decided to wait until Thy Tears quit flowing before posting this, since even a
Fortnight later, upon finishing typing this, I still cry when listening to one of
my favourite Pearl Jam songs, titled Crazy Mary, which for some strange unknown
reason makes me think of Mad Molly.
VIDEO: Crazy Mary
Naturally, my
coining the moniker Mad Molly was simply a term of endearment, as she was a
wonderful dog who only got M-A-D if she didn't get her way! Whilst perhaps the
reason the Crazy Mary song comes to mind is because Mary Ellen rescued her,
giving Molly a way better life!
As I do not typically become overly melodramatic
regarding a fallen racer's life being extinguished, with the exception of
Justin B-I-G' UNIT Wilson's; while certainly there were many before that
fateful weekend at Imola, but Black Sunday was my introduction to this tragic
consequence of racing gone wrong! As many have occurred during my 30yrs of Open
Wheel Racing observance, from the legends such as Senna, Earnhardt, Moore,
Wheldon and Wilson.
To the unheralded likes of Roland
Ratzenberger, Scotty Brayton, Jeff Krosnoff, Marco Simoncelli, Harry Surtees, Gonzalo
Rodriguez, Tony Renna, Jovy Marcelo and Luis Salom
to name just a few of the countless ex-racers. As Y'all get the idea, right?
Whilst Molly was preceded in death by the
passing of Gypsy, Sarah, Kobi, Nutkin, Rosa Luna and Lilly...
THIS IS YOUR LIFE...
In another symbiotic nod to unknown reasoning,
whenever I hear those words above I think of Corporal Klinger of MASH TV
Fame...
Molly was born and raised in the tiny 'lil
enclave known as Point Roberts, Washington. Spat out from one of the countless
"Puppy Farms" dotting the nation - with her "Born-on Date"
unknown, albeit possibly a Y2k baby? Since the best Mary Ellen can come up with
is that Molly was "Sweet 16," albeit not in Doggy Years...
Molly was Lilly's Seester', the first of
these two "Junkyard Dog's" of Tibetan mix Mary Ellen acquired, as
Lilly would later have a litter 'O four puppies, including the runt of these
being a precocious Chihuahua mix fondly known on these No Fenders pages as Thy
Pixolator, which speelchequer always wants to change to a well known Oil filter
brand called Purolator; but I digress...
My first vivid recollections of being
introduced to Molly was Wayback in Twenty-oh-Eight when we traveled to The
Gorge at George, WA to hear some 'lil 'Ol Kuhnadiun Rock 'N roll group
affectionately known as "The Power Trio."
Yep, Y'all guessed right, they're the band
RUSh - for which just so happened to have Geddy croonin' Hit after Hit at the
Gorge just five days after Scott Dixon won some 'lil Oval race at 16th &
Georgetown.
Molly was truly M-A-D after being abandoned
for some three hours on her own in 'Ol Blue, Mary Ellen's trusty 'Ol
Camper-van, which contrasted quite differently from one RUSh Aficionado wanting
to give me a Hug, since he'd never Hugged a Blind person before...
Upon our return, I got the dubious task of
holding an extremely Pissed Off Doggie, who began frantically scratching,
clawing, twisting, etc while trying to break free from my grasp like a bucking
Bronco! Even attempting to bite me! Which was one of only two times ever I can
recall! The second being when she bit my arm when trying to remove her from my
couch.
Yet from this first sketchy outing, Molly
totally burrowed her way into my Heart and quickly became my All-time Numero
Uno Canine of Mary Ellen's, with NO disrespect to the others, most notably Thy
Pixolator. As Molly's stature was quickly elevated to my Oh, So clever internal
code of GB1 = Goof Ball 1, with Pixie (the Charming Chihuahua) becoming GB2!
As how can I ever forget Molly at my heels
waiting to be picked up and placed upon my lap. And if Pixie dared taking it
first, Molly simply would plop herself down in the prime position regardless of
Pixie's locale, quite content to squash Pixie in order to have the majority of
Thy lap!
and even though I was on the
"Rent-2-Own" plan, I quickly came to appreciate looking forward to my
next visit with whom became known as "My Girls!"
As these two were the epitome of Flotsam
& Jetsam. Or perhaps better yet Tom & Jerry? Providing us hours of
amusement, whilst I eagerly awaited Mary Ellen telling them to run upstairs and
get Tomaso, which was the ultimate wake-up alarm clock!
And in just one 'lil snippet of how much
these two were forever bonded, they had a highly comical daily skit whenever
eating. As Pixie would wait first for ravenous Molly to inhale her food before
Pixie would take a nibble and then stand at her bowl growling defiantly at Molly...
as I can go on 'N on about the countless
hours of watching the back of Molly's head whilst seated upon Thy lap pivoting
back 'N forth like a Bobblehead, which always conjured up images of the Muppets
to Mwah, countless trips into Thou Bush, Mountains, both sides of Washington,
Oregon and Oh KanaDuh, as that final trek to Mount Rainier to ride the Gondola
where I carried Molly on my back in a custom Doggy Backpack stands out
fondly...
Yet what I've noticed the most is how
difficult life must be for Pixie, who as Mary Ellen quickly pointed out has
never been alone once in her life until that fateful night, for which I'll
forever be eternally grateful for Mary Ellen trying so diligently to honour my
request to see Molly one final time and to be present if ever this Mad Hatter
puppy dog needed to be put down in order to not suffer further.
As I'm deeply touched that I got to hear
Molly's final barking, along with Mary ELLEN bringing her by post mortem and
allowing me to touch her as long as desired in order to say goodbye...
Molly contracted seemingly an un-normal
condition for the final few years of her life, suffering the ill effects of
what most simply can be called a collapsed trachea, which made her wheeze
constantly, sounding like she'd smoked one too many Marlboros, which not only
wasn't the case, but simply wasn't Molly's fault.
And although life's gotten really boring for
Thy Pixolator, who's lost her partner, doesn't have anybody to growl at, fight
with or do the other things doggy's do. Nonetheless, Molly left us one final
present, as a song was played on the radio the morning of her departure, so
aptly titled Molly on The Shore.
VIDEO: Molly on The Shore
As I'll probably get in trouble for this, not
to mention completely mucking I-T up, but I like to believe that Molly's made
it across the waters to the Hebrides Islands, specifically
the Isle of Beyond the North wind, which is apparently Celtic lore regarding
the Otherworld, where Molly get's to hog anybody's lap whenever she wants, eat
as much food as possible, sleep in her own royal people's bed and doesn't have
to deal with her nasty continuous wheezing!
As there are several versions of this song, with
three variations being performed by Percy Grainger, Rachel Barton Pine and
Northern Simfonia, which were the first three I was informed of.
Yet I've chosen Messer Grainger's as my favourite,
since for Mwah, it truly captures the spirit of Molly! While Rachel Barton
Pine, who's definitely a violin virtuoso is runner-up, whilst think I've since
heard a cello version which is also enjoyable too.
But Percy's full orchestra version just epitomizes Mad
Molly, who had a 'Wee bit 'O Calvin in her, who I'll miss dearly! As I can
still see her sitting in my lap, head turned towards Mary Ellen smiling, tongue
hanging out in that look of ecstasy that I've got Tomaso's lap...
