by Alison Pfaelzer
He came to me when he was 2 months old. A good friend knew that I had been thinking of getting a dog so one day at work, she made a phone call and 10 minutes later he was placed in my arms - it was love at first sight! I named him Murphy
Murphy was very small when I got him. I used to called him my "little speckled pup" for he was mostly white with a black and brown masked face. He had three large black spots on his speckled body.
Murphy and I were together 10 years. I have never been married and
have no other children (human or otherwise), so he was everything to me.
He was there to laugh with me during the good times (he could smile) and
was there to console me during the bad. There was one point in my life
when I had foot surgery and it went bad, I almost lost my foot. For five
long months I was on crutches and had to sleep on the couch. During this
time Murphy seemed to understand: He always "asked" before he jumped on
the couch to lay next to me. He understood that it was hard for me to go
to the door so he would wait and try as hard as he could not to do it
too much. He always did like to go in and out constantly, but during
this time he held back. He also slept on the couch with me every night
but when I would ask him to get down, because my foot was hurting, he
would lay on the floor next to me. I kept a journal for several years,
which included this hard time and as I read through it I see I wrote over and over again "thank God for Murphy I don't know what I would ever do without him"
We moved several times and as hard as it was for me every time, Murphy was always there to be my friend even when I didn't have any. We'd chase each other around the house, play tug and go for long walks. When the men in my life left, there he was, licking my ear letting me know at least he still loved me and that everything would be fine because he was still there. I used to talk to him constantly, tell him everything that happed and he would be there listening to my every word. I know he could understand me! Just knowing that Murphy was always there for me with his unconditional love was enough to get me through anything. He always loved me for just being myself. I used to call him my little pinoccio because I knew he always wanted to be a real boy.
He had such character. He always looked at me with his beautiful brown eyes and had many faces: puffed up lip on one side or both, the way he cocked his head (as dogs do) and he had this big ol grin that always made me smile. It wasn't your regular dog grin it was an ear to ear smile! It's so funny, If I'd be gone too much, man, would I get cussed out!! He wouldn't bark but more of a jabbering thing then he'd snap his teeth together as if to say "hey, you're not spending enough time at home". I'd always assure him I'd be back later to play. If I was home and he got bored, he'd go a piece of furniture and scratch on it , then look at me and snap those darn teeth together. If I still didn't pay any attention he would move on to a chair, the coffee table or the
stereo. He knew that it made me mad and would not quit until I paid him
some attention. Everytime I'd go to put my shoes on Murphy would bound
to the door and jump up and down. When I let him know he could go I'd
open the door and he would bite at my feet all the way to the car as if
to say "hurry up let's go!" He loved to go anywhere with me. His collar
now hangs on my rear view mirror so he gets to go everywhere with me.
Over the years he had his share of ear infections and stitches but
otherwise seemed healthy. Over a single weekend Murphy had several
"attacks", where he would hunch his back while sitting, pant frantically
and drool. I found out Monday morning, when they opened him up, that he
was full of cancer. It was so bad they didn't even bother to remove any
of it and couldn't tell me whether he would live a day or a month. When
I went to pick him up the next day I was unsure of what I would see or
what I would do. When the vet opened the door on his cage he ran to the
front door, scratched on it and looked at me as if to say "well, lets go
home", he looked good. He really gave me a sense of false hope because
after only a few hours at home he was in a lot of pain again. I have
heard this about cancer patients, that they will get one more burst of
energy before they go. I think Murphy knew how sick he was and wanted to
be at home. By that afternoon I knew what I had to do. I kept saying to
him "you're going to make me do it today aren't you", it was his 10th
birthday.
He was so very tired but would not sleep he just sat there trying to keep himself propped up with his front legs, staring at me or out the window. It seemed that he was hanging on just for me and I couldn't let go. I struggled with the thought of losing him, but could not watch him suffer anymore so I called the vet. The vet was extremely nice and came to our house. It was done on our bed in "mamas loving arms". That's exactly what I told him as I carried him to his grave. He is now buried outside my bedroom window, the window he stared out of during his last hours.
As I look back I wonder why I never knew he was that sick. The cancer must have been there for a long time but he never really showed any signs. I Think that maybe the love we had between us was, in some way, was a type of medicine. I don't know if he was hiding it from me but I guess you never know.
I do know he will always be with me. A few days after he died I was walking down the hall and smelled him, I immediately cried because I
knew he was there. I still "see" him walking up to me, wagging that
stub tail of his, sticking his nose up so I will bend down and kiss him.
As strange as this might sound (I have questioned my own sanity) I hear
him in this little boys voice " mama I'm still here, I love you, I miss
you too". When I go to sleep at night I feel him curled up in the crook
of my knees. It's funny, I still talk to him all the time (as I always
have) and feel as if he hears me.
The whole time we were together I kept telling him "some day we'll have our very own house in the country". We moved to our brand new house in the country not even 2 months before he died and I can't help but feel that he waited for me to be happy and in a safe place. I believe that I will always feel his presence! We were such a part of each others lives that I don't think it could be any other way. After all I always wanted to get a nice place for us and now it is truly "his house".
"Baby, Mama will always love you, forever and ever amen" I have always told him that and I always meant it.