Murphy, The Wonder Dog

Six months before leaving for college, my son, Garth, decided to replace himself with a dog. He felt that Jason and I were going to need something to keep us company when he wasn’t around. 

We never discussed getting a dog. Instead, Garth told me that he had called the Basset Rescue Society to request a Basset Hound for our family. He also told them he was my husband because he was afraid they wouldn’t give a dog to a single parent family. And, furthermore, a staff member would be doing a “home visit” in a couple of days to make sure we were a suitable home.

I later learned:

1) The only reason for a home visit was to make sure we had a fenced-in yard. Bassets are notorious for running away.

2) Murphy had “failed” adoption efforts before. The Rescue Society was eager to make this work. They weren’t fussy about marital status.

Murphy arrived a few days later. He was a happy, gregarious adult. In many ways he was like Garth. They were both handsome, cheerful and eager for adventure. They were both kind souls, who made friends wherever they went.

But there were also obvious differences. While Garth was a thoughtful student, meticulously planning for what was coming next, Murphy was a terrible student. He was a clown. He was a stubborn. Every day was a new day. A day to escape, to roam around the neighborhood, to see how much food he could eat and how much trouble he could get into. 

I got used to the telephone ringing before I even knew Murphy was gone. 

“We’ve got your dog.”

“I’m sorry. He must have gotten out again. Where is he?”

“He’s standing here in my kitchen. My wife was cooking hamburger. Your dog pushed open the screen door with his nose and walked in.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Jason and I took Murphy to obedience school but it was a waste of time and money. While other dogs stood at attention next to their owners, Murphy strolled around the room, smiling at the other dogs, or else plopped at our feet, refusing to move. 

We took Murphy for walks around the neighborhood, determined to get him to walk like a proper dog. But Murphy had other ideas. He didn’t like walking on a leash and he plotted his revenge. He walked nicely as we walked away from home, strutting and wagging his tail at people passing by. But when it was time to return, Murphy sat down. In the middle of the sidewalk. He refused to budge. He wasn’t going anywhere. He definitely wasn’t going home. Jason had to pick him up and carry him. Murphy taught us not to walk very far. Forty pounds is a lot to carry.

Murphy’s most noticeable feature, was his enormous appetite and amazing flatulence. He had the ability to clear a room in an instant with his silent, deadly farts. 

Because of Murphy’s challenging behaviors, I was in frequent contact with the Rescue Society. Their response was always the same:

“It sounds like he’s lonely. We think you should adopt another Basset, so he has some company.”

“Oh, no… That’s not going to happen.”

One day, Murphy got into a kitchen cabinet that housed my baking supplies. I came home to learn he had eaten a whole canister of flour, a bag of sugar and a large can of lemonade powder. It was the equivalent of ten lemon bundt cakes. His stomach was distended and rumbling. I threw him outside and called the Rescue Society.

“This dog is too much! He needs constant supervision. You need to come and get him.”

I could hear the rescue worker clucking on the phone. “Lynda, I feel like we are friends. Let me tell you a story:

“One day my dog got in my purse where I had my false teeth wrapped in a napkin. I noticed right away that my teeth were missing and the dog was outside. I didn’t know who to call first ~ my dentist or the vet.

“I called the dentist to see if I could still use my teeth if I found them outside, buried under a pile of leaves. The dentist said, ‘Sure. Just soak them in peroxide. They’ll be fine.’

“Then I called the vet and asked him what I should do if the dog had swallowed  my teeth. The vet said, ‘Here’s how to find out if the dog ate your dentures. Get behind him and yank up his tail. If that dog’s grinning at you, he’s got your teeth.’” 

We kept the dog. Garth left for the Peace Corps right after college. Murphy died of cancer while he was away. I missed Murphy after he was gone but I never got another dog again.