Getting the Last Word

Murphy spent an enormously boring day with me at work yesterday. 

He slept through most of it, but I noticed him yawning...a lot.  Yawning, although also a physical reaction to not enough air in the lungs, is also a way dogs calm themselves down.  Sometimes a yawn means the dog is stressed out, so I was a little worried for the little man.

Christy called me to say that one of her neighbors had offered to foster and asked if I could bring Murphy by around 5:30pm.  Looking at all the paper on my desk, I knew I'd be working till at least 10, so I said sure, figuring that would be my lunch break.  Since I had a nice long walk with Murphy in the morning, I didn't get in until 11am. 

Murphy recognized Christy right away and greeted her and her husband with wags and love.  We walked over to her neighbor's where we could hear her dogs barking from down the street.  She had a black terrier, a corgi, and a Pomeranian.  We went to the back fence, and right away I knew it wasn't going to work.  The black terrier reacted to Murphy the same way Murphy reacted to his potential new dad the day before.  The terrier looked like he wanted to rip Murphy's throat out.  So of course, Murphy stood his ground and barked his Great Dane bark back at him.  The terrier was escorted inside in the hopes maybe three of them would get along.

I brought him inside the gate on a leash.  Murphy immediately went up to the dogs all happy and performing perfect dog etiquette.  But the corgi's lip curled and he snapped.  Murphy backed away and went to say hello to the Pomeranian who gave him the same uninviting snarl.

Now my heart was really breaking.  Little Murphy just couldn't catch a break.  It wasn't his fault.  These dogs just didn't want him in their space.  So after fifteen minutes, we called it quits, thanked the woman for at least giving it a try and we headed back to Christy's house.

There, she contacted Melissa, asking if we could indeed call her in to take Murphy back for a couple of days.  She could, but only for a few days.  They asked if I could take him over the weekend.  I have another social engagement, one that has been planned for months, so I said I could take him Friday and partly Saturday, but I needed a dog sitter for Saturday evening.  Katya could take him Monday morning.

It was getting ridiculous.  Murphy was bouncing around all over the place, and each time he loved with all his heart.  How long could he keep doing that?  Melissa said she could pick him up at 9:30pm, and I had to get back to work and not be distracted.  I had a long night ahead of me.  Murphy seemed to be having fun at Christy's house.  He would run around for a bit, then head back over to me all excited, and jump on my lap.  I imagined him like a little kid who kept coming back his mom in the park saying, "Mom, I just played over there.  You should have seen me!  This is so much fun!"

Yeah, I got attached.  I admit it.  But it's hard not to, when he attached to me first.

When I went to say goodbye, he didn't get it.  He paid more attention to the fact than the last time when I said goodbye to him and gave him to Melissa.  But I figured I'd see him again on Friday, so I told him to have fun and gave him a hug goodbye.

When I walked to the door, he tried to follow, and looked all confused when Christy held him back.  I felt so bad.  I left him.  He loved me, and I left him.  I kept telling myself I'd see him again on Friday so it's not big deal, but it was a big deal.

I spent all day today feeling awful.  I felt rotten for leaving him.  If I had a house, he could have stayed with me.  But I don't.  I know he would have more fun with Melissa's dogs all day long, but still, that look on his face when he didn't understand why I was leaving without him just killed me.

Christy called me tonight to tell me that things were getting better for Murphy.  He tried to jump on the furniture in her house which is a no-no, and they kept telling him so.  When they brought out a dog bed for him to lay in, he stopped trying to get on the furniture.  Since one of the issues at Melissa's house was Murphy sleeping in the bed and not allowing anyone else but Melissa in there with him, the dog bed went with him to her house.  And it worked wonders.

Murphy just needed guidance.  He's a smart dog.  He figured it out.  He just needed to be told.  So, since consistency is best for Murphy, it looks like he'll be staying at Melissa's until he goes to Canada for adoption or gets a home here.  I won't see him again unless there's a big emergency and they need me to cover for a night.  I told Christy how bad I felt about leaving him, and she said that he did keep returning to the front window to look out as if seeing if I would return.  But the good news was he was really excited to see Melissa.

Now that I won't be seeing him again, I feel worse about leaving him without a proper goodbye.  I'm happy it's working out for him, and I hope it continues to do so.  But I feel like I totally let him down.  He gave me his heart and I gave it back.  I know this is what fostering is about, but I think something about Murphy just got to me.  Maybe it was all my memories of my dogs.  Or maybe it was just him.

Yesterday morning while I ate breakfast he lay on he couch napping.  He heard someone outside and growled.  I turned and said, "Murphy.  No.  Don't." 

He caught my eye and stopped.  I turned my heads to face my cereal and heard a little "Grr" from the couch.  I turned, met his eyes, let out a "No," and he was silent.  I turned back, and heard the "Grr" again.  I turned and stared intently.  "Don't.  Stop it.  Do you think I can't hear you?"

I paused a moment, then turned back to my bowl just as "Grr" came from the living room.  Each time I turned, he was looking at me, challenging me to somehow get the last word in. 

I let him win.

I do wish Murphy the best, and I'm sure he's doing fine.  I just wish there was a way he could understand that I loved him just as much as he loved me; or rather I loved him the most a human can love.  We humans don't have the capacity to love like canines do; that's why we love them so much.  Because deep down, we want to love like they do, and we hope by spending just a little bit of time with them, that ability will rub off on us.

I hope a little rubbed off on me in my time with Murphy.  I'll continue to strive for that level.  And in the meantime, I'll still love every dog who shares my home and my truck with me; I'll love them the best any human possibly can.  And whoever Murphy gets to love for the rest of his life is one very lucky human.