David Findley’s dog Molly is trained to remind him when it’s time to eat

When David Findley and a friend attended an auction not too long ago, David took along his dog, Molly, his constant companion. Molly is a friendly, black-and-white border collie with a big smile and happy personality. But that day, as David and his friend attended the auction, Molly was obviously upset about something. 

“She was throwing a fit – whining and pacing,” David said. “She'd nudge up against the friend and paw at her.” 

“What's wrong with Molly?” the friend asked. “I've never seen her act like that.”

David quickly realized what was happening. “Have you had anything to eat this morning?” he asked his friend.

“What? Have I had anything to eat?” she said, wondering why he would ask that question seemingly out of the blue. “No, I guess I haven't.”

“Go get something to eat, and I bet she'll lie down and be fine,” he told her.

Puzzled but willing to do what he suggested, the woman left and got a snack, which she ate. She returned to where she'd been sitting, and in a few minutes, sure enough, Molly lay down beside her, completely at ease, and fell asleep.

The woman couldn't figure it out, but David smiled knowingly and told her simply, “Your blood sugar was low.”

David knew what Molly's “problem” was because he'd seen her react that way many times, beginning with the day he first met his new dog-to-be. 

“Some people put up a notice on Facebook or somewhere saying they wanted to sell their dog – they called it a rehoming fee. They said they'd lost their house and had to move into an apartment where dogs weren't allowed, so their dog needed a good home. I'd been without a dog for a while, so I thought I'd check it out,” David said. 

He met the couple one morning at a restaurant parking lot in Arkansas. “We were talking, and they were watching me play with Molly. They seemed to like the way we were getting along,” David said. “But then she started acting different. She was getting more active, pushing against me and acting anxious.”

David looked at the woman, wondering what was going on. 

“Have you had anything to eat today?” the woman asked.

David admitted he hadn't.

“Well, that's the problem. She's telling you your blood sugar is low,” the woman said. 

It turns out that Molly is a service dog trained to detect low blood sugar, a problem that can usually be resolved if the person has something to eat. The couple hadn't put that information in their online post because their first concern was that Molly would go to a good home. Her amazing skill at detecting low blood sugar was just an added bonus.

“I sort of didn't know I needed a dog like Molly,” David said. But now it's apparent that he does, not only for companionship but to help him avoid low blood sugar episodes. 

The young man who owned co-owned Molly was diabetic, David said, and that's why the couple had her.

From what he understands, David said, “When your blood sugar is low, you put off different pheromones than you do when you're not low on sugar. People can't register it, but dogs can. They do have a few instruments that can detect it, but dogs do it best.” 

In other words, to dogs, humans smell different when their blood sugar is low. 

David took Molly home to his house west of Ava, and she settled right in, he said. “We hit it off, right off the bat,” he said. “She's got her own chair and her own bed.”

Molly arrived around the time David's wife, Kathey, died in an accidental fall on Veterans Day 2019. “I was gone, and when I came home, I found her on the floor,” he said. 

Kathey had apparently hit her head when she fell and died instantly. “The truth is, she probably fell over her dog,” David said. “We figure that's what happened.” 

They had been married 37 years. Kathey's dog now lives near Ava with her son (David's stepson).

 

An Ozark County childhood

David grew up in the Hammond community in Ozark County, the adopted son of the well-known preacher J. W. “Bill” and Ruth Esther Vickers Findley. Janet Taber wrote this about Rev. Bill Findley in the August issue of the Old Mill Run, which featured “old-time” preachers of Ozark County: “Reverend Findley spent his entire adult life preaching the Gospel in different communities, including congregational and Church of God churches in Ozark, Taney and Douglas counties. His longest tenure was as pastor of the Gentryville Church of God in Douglas County, where he was still preaching at the end of his life [at age 92].” 

Preacher Findley wrote a series of books about his extraordinary life, “with each book seen through a lens of love for his fellow man and for the world God allowed him to live in. . . ,” Taber wrote. “The first of the books, Experiences of a Walking Preacher, was named because of how he got to his [preaching] appointments before he and Ruth could afford a vehicle. In it, Findley estimated he walked many thousands of miles during his preaching years.” 

The Findleys' own children had left home by then, but most of the time when Bill Findley was preaching somewhere, he and his adopted mom Ruth went along too, David said. 

David attended schools in Thornfield, Gainesville and Mount Zion, north of Ava. When he was 15, he was fishing in Bull Shoals Lake, sitting on the shore near Shiloh Point, when a large rock rolled off a bluff and hit him, crushing his leg. He spent seven months in the hospital, he said, and “had gangrene four or five times. They wanted to amputate it, but Mom threw a fit.”

The leg eventually healed, and after his schooldays, David enlisted in the Army in 1977, but his injured leg couldn't take the stress that was put on it. “It blew up so big, I couldn't get my boot on,” he said. He soon rebroke the weakened leg, and “the Army said I couldn't stay in.” He was given an honorable discharge on a medical basis, he said.

 

Connecting with Molly

His time in the military was another advantage when Molly's owners were considering re-homing her with David “He was in the military, just like I was,” he said, explaining the connection. 

After his discharge, David went to technical school in Oklahoma to become an auto mechanic. He used those skills to make a living most of his adult life in the Ava area. He's now officially disabled.

He and 10-year-old Molly live together, each keeping an eye on the other. Although Molly is a border collie, an “active breed,” David said “she's quite mannerly.” 

Mannerly, yes. But she obviously takes her job seriously.

“When it's time for supper and I haven't eaten supper, she'll tell me. The way she acts depends on how intensive she wants to get. If she's told me two or three times, ‘Hey, it's time to eat,' on the fourth time, she'll actually bark and get in between me and whatever I'm doing,” David said. 

“It happened last night when I was working on something in my little shop,” he said in a phone call last week. “She came in and was nudging at me, like she was saying, ‘C'mon, Daddy. Time to eat.' And I got the message.”

Just for fun, David brought Molly to the Hootin an Hollarin pet show Saturday, Sept. 23. She won the blue ribbon for “hardest working” pet. It's a title David heartily endorses. “If it wasn't for Miss Molly, I probably wouldn’t be here,” he said.