Murphy & Me

The popular book (and, soon to be, the movie) “Marley & Me” chronicles the life of an outrageous, persistent and highly destructive Labrador and his hapless owners. Marley is a larger than life character, and yet when I read this book, I found that it didn’t make me laugh or cry, as was intended. It hit a bit too close to home for me. Marley was a wild, goofy, out of control dog who takes his owners on an insane journey that involved offending innocent bystanders and closing beaches. He joyfully welcomed his human siblings. He was brave until his death and taught his owners to keep a zest for a dynamic life in their hearts. As an animal lover, I had expected to adore this story. But, because I have Murphy as a real life Marley, I must say the authors’ trials and tribulations were frighteningly familiar.

I have discussed Pancakes, the Demon Bunny, and her wild disregard for long held animal behavior truths. Many people have seen pictures of Mackenzie, my long haired German Shepherd. But, Murphy is a bit of an enigma in our pet family of female divas. Murphy is part Golden Retriever, and we believe, part Newfoundland. He looks an awful lot like a snuffling walrus with a weight problem. Murphy was, fittingly, born on Saint Patrick’s Day, and since his happy Irish soul entered his pudgy doggy body, he has never met a stranger. Literally. Murphy likes everyone. He likes the mail carrier. He likes the man running the gate at the town dump. He likes the vet. He likes every dog he’s ever met. He gets along with pets other people have deemed to be aggressive. In short, Murphy has the luck of the Irish, and he brightens our lives with his joyful exuberance almost every day.

On the days he isn’t filled with a frolicking heart, Murphy is doing something he probably shouldn’t. While we have perfectly serviceable, but not terribly attractive, family room furniture from Sam’s Club, Murphy chose to eat our good leather couch in the living room that was made from the finest, softest hides imaginable. When I arrived home to see the innards of my sofa strewn all over the room, Murphy was lying on his back in the midst of the chaos, exalting and rolling in the foam. He wasn’t embarrassed at all. He brought me a small piece to keep as a memento. He ripped the shingles at dog height off the side of our house, and then nicely stacked them before burying them. Murphy also has the gifts of Houdini at being an escape artist. We have a well fenced in backyard. We have yet to discover how he does it, but Murphy manages to squirm his 130 pound girth under the tiniest gaps imaginable. I doubt the bunny could escape from places Murphy has squeaked under. Once he’s out, Murphy goes on ‘walkabout’. He visits neighbors, and if their doors happen to be open, he walks right in and wishes them “a top of the morning’”. It never occurs to Murphy that he may not be wanted someplace. In his happy-go-lucky mind, he is welcome, just as he welcomes others.

I’ve come to think of Murphy as my doggy Buddha. He’s rotund, jolly and incredibly friendly. He is generous and brings people gifts; often their own shoes. He’s joyful. Nothing ruins Murphy’s day. If he has a bone or ratty sock, he’s completely at peace. He’s completely self-actualized and knows he is just what he’s meant to be. Maybe Murphy does have some Zen-like lessons to teach me. I can learn to be more forgiving and outgoing. I can also learn to do without material possessions. I just don’t think I’ll practice drinking from the “Magic Water Bowl” in the bathroom. I have to draw the line someplace.