For some reason I've been thinking a lot lately about our dog, Murphy. aka Murph. Murphy Brown Keitges Wellnitz. Noodle. New new. Troppy Prinny. Tap Dancer. The Murphinator. Idgy (what petie called her before he could say Murphy).
It was December 2001. Kev and I were living in Barb's basement apartment. We were both working and going to school full-time. Kevin was finishing up at Portland State and I was working on PA school requirements at PCC. I didn't even ask Barb if we could have a dog, let alone one that would grow to be 90 pounds! I have been allergic to dogs since I was a kid and a fan of dogs since, well, since never. I never really liked dogs. I don't know if it was because I was allergic and therefore subconsciously knew I couldn't get near them or what. I just wasn't a dog person.
In a serious lapse in judgement I decided that I would buy Kevin a dog for Christmas. I knew he always wanted a Chocolate Lab so that part was a no brainer. Katie, Angie, Beth, and I drove up north somewhere (the details are fuzzy - I think I tried to block it out) and came to this nice family farm with a kennel full of lab puppies. They were ridiculously adorable. I picked the most mellow of the litter. What a naive thought - that any lab puppy would be mellow. I sneezed all the way home (I think I made Angie hold her) and took her to Katie's for a bath before presenting her to Kevin later that night. We both immediately fell in love with her. She was so sweet, so soft. She was a major pain in the ass, but it was too late. We were hooked. We found another place to rent that allowed dogs and Murphy spent the first year of life with Katie's dog Chaab. They lived it up. Murph ate couches, chairs, and most notably a pair of Italian strappy shoes of Shannon Moran's that I borrowed for our engagement party. They were actually from Italy. Murphy has good taste.
We bought our first house and Murphy made a great watch dog in our "transitional" neighborhood. We moved into our second house and Murphy made a great older sister to our first born. She took plenty of tail pulling, playing horsey, and general abuse without a groan. Now she's the eldest of 3 and starting to look her age. She is 8. She prematurely greyed, so that's not it. It's just she's different now. You could break into our house and if it happens to be nap time (23 our of 24 hours of the day) she probably wont bother to get up. And after a day of fetch, you can tell she is hurtin. She is just getting up there.
Kevin will tell you that I don't like her. I don't really pet her or brush her or take her for my runs. But I do clean her ears and clip her nails on occasion and I do tell her she is a good girl. Because she really is a good girl. I should probably tell her more often. I really do love her. Like you love a relative that you don't ever agree with. I don't agree with her chronic ear infections or her fur, but I do love her. And I will miss her when she's gone one day. At least I'd like to think so.
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