I thought I might include a story written by my dad that, I think, was never published. A bit of indulgence on my part, I know. But, I wanted to post this simple story about the loss of a pet and search for, not a replacement, but, a successor to the legacy of my dad’s companions.
After dad passed away, mom took care of Murphy. Dad’s dogs were never never a big deal to mom but she indulged dad’s whims and tolerated the puppies as long as he cleaned up the messes (when he was aware of them). Mom found that Murphy was a wonderful companion. He was always wagging his tail as fast as a tail could wag and never whined or complained about anything. He only asked to be fed and given the occasional treat although, a simple “Atta’ Boy” was appreciated just as much as a biscuit.
When mom moved into a group home because she was unable to care for herself and Murphy, Murph went along with her. Connie and Chris, mom’s caregivers and owners of the home/farm, accepted Murphy as part of mom along with some of her furniture and books she wanted to stay with her. After some time, it became clear that they didn’t have the resources to care for Murphy, and mom was unable to do much for him. So, Sue, my wife, and Brianna, my ward/step-daughter and Lucy, our Jack Russell and I took Murphy into our home and lives. Murphy lived with us for the next three years and showed us the love and joy that my dad writes about in this little story. He was an awesome friend and family member. I called him ‘little brother’ and we called him Lucy’s uncle Murphy. Murphy lost his battle with old age, cancer, diabetes, etc. on February 6th. Sue and I spent some time with him in a comfortable room at the vet, giving him treats supplied by the doctor and cuddling him, Murph was in pain and on medication so he didn’t eat much. We held him and looked into his eyes telling him he was a “Good boy!” and letting him know we love him as the doctor gave him three different injections in his catheter. He passed very quietly, looking into our eyes and knowing he was loved
I’m not a religious man but, I do believe that Murphy is somehow reunited with dad and mom and all of dad’s beloved animal friends.
I am going to post another Don Tschirhart story tonight as this one is a bit sad. The next one is more in keeping with dad’s book, ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’, and a very cool story.
Thanks for reading,
David T
Finding A Dog
By Don Tschirhart
It isn’t easy to have your beloved dog put to sleep. I was sad for days. And then some knuckle head told me, it’s just a dog, making me feel even worse.
In late July I had to euthanize my Cairn terrier, Molly. Kidney disease had taken away her quality of life. Others who have put down their pets know how I felt.
Ron, a church friend, sympathized with my loss and said, it really is like losing a friend or a family member. He found an essay in a hunting dog magazine that describes the importance of a pet in someone’s life.
Just a Dog, the article said, brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, pure unbridled joy. Just a Dog brings out the compassion and patience that makes me a better person.
Because of Just a Dog I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.
The essay continues: So for me and folks like me, it’s not Just a Dog, but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.
Just a Dog brings out what’s good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day. I hope some day people can understand that it’s not Just a dog, but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being Just a Man.
All dog owners can appreciate the essay.
I couldn’t be without a canine companion for long. For nearly two months I searched.
Adopting a new canine friend, who will spend time making Margie and me happy, was very strenuous and frustrating.
It’s even more difficult when for a decade and a half you have walked, talked, petted, fed, watered, brushed and loved a Cairn terrier like Molly.
A week ago Margie and I found another Cairn at the home of a St. Clair, Mich., breeder.
When I looked into the eyes of the four-year old and watched him wag his tail and body I knew he and us would be friends.
The breeder called him something else, but I knew I had to rename him with a happier and carefree moniker. I chose Murphy. My fellow condo residents have fallen in love with him already.
Occasionally in this column I will tell you about Murphy and his antics. Fun-loving Cairn Terriers always have antics.
