The Ides of July 2009: This day, July 15, 2009 will always linger in my mind and the minds of everyone who knows my family as a landmark day. He was picked out by a little red headed girl who, at age 3, knew just what she wanted in a puppy. Her older brother concurred, and well before he probably should have left his mother, the tiny brown puppy moved down the street to live with us and change our lives forever. It's been nearly 14 years of excitement and anxiety, joy and pain, and enduring love and faithfulness that can only be given by a Labrador Retriever. Murphy wasn't a registered Lab but a cross between a registered Lab mother and a registered Chesapeake Bay Retriever. The results of this pairing was a huge chocolate Lab. Headstrong, opinionated, domineering, and always friendly and compliant with most reasonable requests, Murphy flunked out of obedience school when the trainer simply threw in the towel and told me he was not trainable by the classic definition of dog training. It was her determination that Murphy would always be his own dog. He'd be a Super Alpha Dog and would probably do what I wanted him to as long as he also wanted to do it.
Behind a door, he was the ultimate watchdog. His bark was enormous. It resonated deeply with "I'm huge and you better be someone who belongs here". Every stranger at the door was immediately aware that there was a large dog inside, and most just wanted to leave without even seeing him. The visitor who waited for the door to open and met with Murph's approval, was immediately set upon by a wiggling, licking, and jumping dog who only wanted to be petted, loved, and hopefully fed a snack. If that stranger didn't measure up to Murph's standards, however, they'd find an impenetrable brown wall between them and his family.
Food was the primary motivator in his life. Food brought him much pleasure but caused a few anxious moments for his family. His quest for food once led him to eat 2 loaves of rising bread dough. He then learned that 2 bottles of hydrogen peroxide would make it come back out before rising in his stomach and exploding his poor starved intestines. On another occasion, his search for a late night snack was determined to be the cause of the fire which could have been the end of us. One hot September night in 2002, Murphy innocently placed his enormous paws up on the stove top to get a better look at the goodies which might have been there. The big feet turned on the gas, electronic igniters clicked, and only a neighbor who had to take a late night whizz, saved us by hammering on the door at 2:00 AM, getting us out safely. For the next seven years a baby gate was put up every night to keep him out of the kitchen.
Nobody will ever forget the wonder of 130 pounds of love and gentleness rolling over and springing a leak at the mere touch of either Heather or Chris, my two eldest children. Those moments and the thousands of memories we share are Murphy.
Murphy is not gone. It is not possible that a presence so large and so powerful could just fade away. His body, now buried in the back yard, is only the vessel which contained so much love and personality for nearly fourteen years. The real Murphy is not gone and never will be. His personality and the effect he had on the first 16 + years of Ashley's life and the lives of the rest of the Winfields, will live forever.
If there's a hereafter for dogs, Murphy is right now licking God's feet and looking for a tiny bit of Milkbone. Sail on old pal. You'll be sorely missed and never replaced.