Loss of a dear friend

This past week has been relatively normal. Work, coffee with friends, hanging out with the wifey, etc. Today broke that status quo.

If you've known me for a while then no doubt you have met my good friend Murphy. Murphy is my dog. When I was seven years old I begged and begged and begged my parents to let me have a dog. Something in me wanted that companionship badly. So after a significant amount of pleading, they relented and one Saturday in 1994 my dad took my sister and I to the humane society to see what kind of dogs they had for adoption. I went down the aisle glancing in the cages at all the different dogs, just about all of them were mixed breeds. The further down the aisle I got the more I lost hope that I was going to leave there with the friend I had set out to find.

Then I came to one of the last occupied kennels.

Inside of it was a small dog, that looked like a miniature sable golden retriever. He sat there, with a happy grin on his face as he watched me through the chain link fence returning his stare. I called my dad and sister over to me and pointed to him, "Him". I told my dad. Within a half hour we were walking out the door with him on a leash. The employees at the humane society had guessed that he was about six months old when we took him, though later the vet speculated he was older—probably 1-2 years at the time we brought him home. We brought him home and I set him onto the floor just inside the door and he bolted down the hall way to my parents bedroom where my mom was reading in bed. He leapt up onto the bed and greeted her with excitement.

After a short while I decided to name him Murphy. Over the years he became engrained into our family life. The first trip we took him on was down to my grandparents house in the bay area, he rode between my sister and I in my parents tiny little two-door Nissan and he behaved perfectly. Didn't make a fuss, didn't bark, when we stopped at a rest stop on I-5 we let him used the bathroom and that was the only time he did on the whole trip down. Since then he's been on several trips with us, short and long. No matter where we're going, if he stayed at home you could expect an ecstatic greeting from him when we returned. He would hear the garage door opening from the backyard and begin to go wild, barking and yelping until someone let him inside, at which point he'd sprint around the house and then stop on a dime in front of someone's feet and roll onto his back expecting a good stomach rub as compensation for his neglect.

Throughout the years he's been alongside me for a great many adventures. He's seen me at all my life stages up until this point since I was in first grade. Graduation. Starting college. Marriage. The list goes on. I hear everyone say that we can all learn something about loyalty from our dogs. I think that's true, sure, but I think there's quite a few other lessons we can learn as well. When I would watch Murphy in his later years trot around the backyard, I saw how content he was. He didn't have much, but being a rescue dog, that was more than good enough for him. We loved him, he loved us, we took good care of each other and we had fun together.

So here's to my friend, Murphy. If you met him I sincerely think your life is better for it, if not, well you will someday, I imagine. He was a great dog, and an even better friend with whom I couldn't have been happier to share the last 17 years of my life with.

Here's to you Murph.