As I discussed in Part One, I was born into a family of dog lovers. This is the continuation of my tribute to the dogs who have shaped and influenced me.
[h]Tiger[/h]
After Mackie passed, I expected we’d be a dog-free household. But my mom had a surprise waiting for me the weekend I returned from taking my boyfriend at the time, Wayne, (who has since become my husband) back to college.
At first I thought she had somehow resurrected Mackie when I saw the sheltie peering in through the sliding glass doors from the backyard. But a double take revealed two very distinct differences. One, he was much smaller. Two, and most distinguishing, he had bright blue eyes.
He was beautiful! But skittish. I went out to meet him and to my dismay he ran. Just as Mike had taught me to respect his grouchy ways, this dog had something to teach me too. Whoever had him before us had abused him. He was afraid of everyone and everything. I was determined to gain his trust.
In three days I had. Enough so that he trusted I meant him no harm when I approached and stopped running away. A few weeks later we conquered his fear of the leash. In a month he dared to request petting. He never fully lost his fear of strangers, and cowered in the bathtub whenever six foot tall Wayne came to visit, but for a short time he was my dog. Until I went away to college.
My mom did her best to raise Tiger after I left, but her job was demanding and she didn’t have the time to devote to properly caring for his special behavioral needs. Tiger made family history because he was the only one we had to find another home for.
[h]Budly[/h]
Before my junior year in college, Wayne bought me a crazy eight week old Cocker Spaniel pup we named Budly. He was the first true puppy I’d ever had. He was our challenge! Talk about the stereotypical bad puppy: shoe destroyer, toilet paper shredder, escape artist. If there was trouble to be found, he was on it! He even got sprayed by a skunk on one of our camping trips. (Which is a topic for another time.) But he loved us as fiercely as we did him.
Ten years almost to the day of his birthday he died. It was Easter Sunday 2000. Cancer. He showed no interest in playing ball (he was cuckoo for tennis balls, his utmost favorite toy), hadn’t been eating, and had been having trouble with peeing blood. The vet thought it was a urinary tract infection. But Saturday night he spent a horrible night throwing up blood so we took him to the Animal ER early Sunday morning (like four a.m.). They took X-rays and there it was -a tumor taking up his whole stomach. Worse, it had spread to his lungs. He was beyond salvation and we knew even without the vet suggesting that the kindest thing we could do was put him to sleep.
Before we did, though, we made one last family excursion to his most favorite place: the beach. But, like with Mackie, it was like he knew his time had come and he didn’t linger like he normally did. Saying goodbye to Mackie was hard and traumatic, but Budly was even worse, because I opted to be with him when they administered the fatal injection. But as terrible as that was, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
[h]Murphy[/h]
Now we have Murphy. He’s a blue tick hound mix near as we can figure. We got him from the pound shortly after 9/11. Wayne and I both felt like we were betraying Budly’s memory even going to the shelter to look at the dogs, but in Jacksonville, Florida, (where we lived at the time) the shelters were having a heck of a time making adoptions after 9/11 because everyone’s focus was on that. So we went just to look, but then there he was.
He knew us right away. We were his people. He ignored the other potential pet parents and put on the shine for us. He wanted to play, walked with us well, and shook paws the moment we made the gesture. But we were dense. We left him. For a week. But when we went back the next Saturday, the first thing Wayne did was rush to his pen.
“He’s still here!” he shouted.
But we ended up leaving him again, because we still weren’t sure we were ready. Could we really open our hearts to another dog like we had with Budly, knowing a future goodbye was inevitable?
But at six a.m. the next morning, Wayne woke me up holding a list of about twenty-five possible names. I knew then we were going to welcome a new member into our family that day, ready or not.
Murph has been the total opposite of Budly. He’s needed very little discipline because he picks up on commands and expectations very quickly. I believe it’s because there’s a little of all the dogs I’ve known in him. Mike, Mackie, Tiger, and Budly. He’s got the best of them all. And as it was with them, my love for him is unconditional, complete, and forever.
Murphy Mroch Pryor