MURPHY’S STORY
Murphy, my goofy little friend with your heart overflowing with love for me and life
–why did you have to die when you were still so young?
I’ve asked myself that question a zillion times and realize, there is an answer somewhere in the realms of time. I can now look back at the years we were together with
joy at having had that time instead of anguish that it was so short.
I’ve bred show beagles for over twenty years, beginning this adventure while I lived
in a little town called Morgan in Minnesota. I bought my first breeding female, a
lovely little lady named Bailey. Murphy was one of Bailey’s first litter of only two
puppies. Both were perfect females but Murphy asserted her uniqueness from the
start, being nearly twice the size of her sister. The reason she was so much bigger
soon became obvious – she had an insatiable and lifelong love of food.
I’ve owned and bred many beagles but I know I will never have the kind of bond I
had with Murphy. She saw my through many traumatic situations. When my
husband was diagnosed with cancer, she rose to the occasion as an unofficial service
dog who went with me to the nursing home every day, quickly becoming a funny
little joy monger for all the patients. We usually spent at least eight hours there and
it was her ‘job.’ Every morning, she was a wagging bundle of energy until we got to
the facility, then she morphed into her very polite, comforting self as she greeted all
her friends. As my husband descended into the outrageous pain of cancer’s final
onslaught, she was his comfort, patiently sitting with him for hours, giving silent
solace with her loving heart.
Toward the end, she and I were there night and day, sleeping in the extra bed in the
hospice suite. The night my husband died, at the instant when his soul left his body,
Murphy howled with the same heart rending respect and grief that members of wolf
packs express when one of their comrades die. It was eerie, primal and very
reassuring, a clear sign of the universal connection among all beings, human and
animal.
In the weeks after we were alone, Murphy was a bit at a loss when we didn’t go to
nursing home anymore but we both fell into a routine of rest and renewal. We had
another painful loss when Bailey, Murphy’s mother died. Soon another beautiful
beagle joined our lives and she was also named Bailey
Within a year, both Murphy and Bailey had litters within days of each other, eight
puppies in all. Bailey was content to raise her kids in a whelping box in the laundry
room but Murphy was having none of that. She had always slept in my bedroom
and that was where she was going to bring her puppies. In the middle of the night, I
woke to find her moving them from the other side of the house to the center of my
bed. I took them back four times but her tenacity had no bounds so I finally made a
nest of blankets and that’s where the family stayed until Murphy decided she wasn’t
that enraptured with motherhood and went on strike.
Fortunately Bailey adored being a mother and didn’t bat an eye when three more
tiny beagles joined her own brood. Murphy went back to devoting her life to me
and getting into mischief whenever the urge came over her.
Because eating was always her favorite thing, whenever I let her out of my sight, she
disappeared, canvassing the neighborhood in search of snacks from neighbors’
garbage cans. Frantic I gave chase through yards and gardens, catching glimpses of
her either entering or departing garages, happily munching as she went.
Inevitably I’d lose sight of her at some point and give up the hunt. Back home, I’d
be sure I’d never see her again because she got hit by a car or attacked by a
doberman. But once she’d gobbled up enough garbage to satisfy her greedy little
self, I’d see her leisurely making her way through the backyard, plump and
grinning, darting a smug glance my way as she headed inside for a nap.
She grew paranoid that Bailey might steal her food at regular feeding times so as
soon as I filled her bowl, she grabbed it up in her teeth and hauled it into the
living room and under a table where she dined, rumbling warnings to Bailey all the
while. Then she backed out and carried the bowl back to the kitchen, again, looking
very pleased with herself.
When I met my present husband, Murphy was a bit miffed to have to share me and
Adam thought she was hopelessly spoiled. Soon enough, they fell in love. In
Murphy’s case, it was probably because Adam took over the daily feeding of both
her and Bailey, the obvious means to win her heart even if he no longer allowed her
to dine in the living room.
And then we were married and moving to South Dakota. The day of the wedding, a
blizzard closed the Interstate from Wyoming to Minnesota, so my brother Jim and
his wife Alberta flew into Minneapolis and we drove them to Morgan. The morning
after the wedding, our cavalcade headed west – Adam driving the moving van, me
driving my car with Murphy and Bailey, Jim and Alberta driving Adam’s car.
Before stopping for the night, Jim and Alberta phoned to say they’d found a motel
that would allow one good dog. I said that was perfect because we had one good dog
and one that wasn’t so good.
Both beagles loved Spearfish, South Dakota, especially when the backyard fence was
finished so they had plenty of room to romp. They met the neighbors who adored
them on sight and went on frequent adventures with us in the Black Hills. They
adjusted to a new vet clinic. The staff delighted in every new litter of Bailey’s
puppies, and cracked up at Murphy’s antics.
Murphy honed her comedic talents and constantly entertained us and guests. She
hated being separated from us for any except the most extreme circumstance. One
such event happened when we went on vacation one year at the same time when
Bailey went to the breeder. We made arrangements for the neighbors whom she
loved dearly to take Murphy to their house while we were away but they couldn’t
take her until the evening of the day we departed.
Before we left for the airport, we put Murphy in the basement and locked a gate
across the stairs. She made it crystal clear that she was NOT going to be left behind
and promptly knocked down the gate and tore upstairs. Finally, we had no choice
but to just leave, our hearts breaking as her hysterical barking ushered us out.
When we spoke to our friends that evening to make sure she had been taken to their
house, they reported that she had barked at top volume all day, pausing only long
enough to break into the cupboards and eat every box of cereal she could get her
little paws on.
One of Murphy’s favorite outings was to go to my brother’s ranch with us. The
final time we all went there together turned out to be the most dreadful day we ever
experienced. It was one of those days when absolutely everything goes wrong. We
were going to help with spring branding and it had been pouring rain for days and
we could barely get there because of flooding. When we arrived, we discovered that
instead of being gathered into the corrals with the calves separated as
was normally the case, the cows were still spread out to all corners of the ranch.
Due to the lush green grass from all the rain, the cows weren’t remotely interested
in the hay my brother always used to lure them in. Instead, they required several
hours of chasing in the rain before they were penned.
By this time, everyone who had come to help was exhausted and hungry and lunch
was served before the branding commenced. We had left Bailey and Murphy in our
car because there were other dogs and we didn’t want to risk fights. Adam had
already been out three times to give them water and walk them. He was just ready
to go again when lunch was ready. Right then, we saw a pickup full of several big,
barking dogs park beside our car.
As soon as he had eaten, Adam went to walk our dogs again. He was back inside
within a minute or so. Taking my shoulders, he turned me to look at him and said,
“Jeannie, I think Murphy is dead.”
I just could not wrap my brain around that, and rushed outside. But it was true,
she was dead even though she was still warm. Somehow when she and Bailey were
jumping around, trying to get with the dogs parked beside them, Murphy’s leash
got tangled around her neck.
I was crying and hugging her and could feel her so close but too far away to come
back. I thought at that moment that I might die too. But, of course, I didn’t.
We took her home and Adam made a wooden box and we buried her in our flower
garden. He carved a stone for her headstone – MURPHY – BELOVED FRIEND
OF ALL.
Now it’s been several years since we lost her that awful day. Another gorgeous
beagle puppy named Murphy came to live a month after her predecessor died. This
Murphy is now all grown up and getting ready to have her third litter of puppies.
She and I love each other and she tries never to let me out of her sight. She does her
very best to fill the first Murphy’s role. She never can but she’s already brought us
immeasurable joy.
And whenever I stop by that small plot in the garden, I remember the first Murphy,
my dearest, goofy little friend who will live forever in my heart.