“Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” – William Shakespeare
I have dreaded the day since I looked into Murphy’s big brown, googly eyes for the first time. Yesterday, I looked into those eyes for the last time. And my heart is broken as his is at rest.
Murphy came into my life at the darkest of times, two months after my beloved father died. I was awash in depression and loneliness. He saved me (and my grieving mother). He brought in the light and made us laugh and smile. He helped shrink the hole in my heart and like the Grinch, my heart grew bigger. He changed me.
Murphy gave me a reason to get up in the morning. And a reason to leave work and come home in the evening. He introduced me to my neighbors and together we built a new network online and offline. He was my sunshine.
His Auntie Roberta dubbed him the Young Prince. And he was a true prince, entitled and demanding. He was living on the streets when he was rescued by Charlotte Mecklenburg Animal Care and then transferred to Humane Society Charlotte where we made our love connection.
The early days were not easy. He was afraid and untrained. I was foolish and untrained. But he made me happy every day. And he made my mom, his beloved Grannie, laugh for the first time after my Daddy’s death.
After he got his bearings and realized he was safe, he took over the house consistent with his Shih Tzu Asian royalty roots. He had his own closet full of clothes (that’s on me), multiple toy baskets and beds in every room. He couldn’t speak, but you knew what he was thinking. And his snorts of displeasure were only matched by Bridgerton’s Queen Charlotte.
He was afraid of men for two years, but once he realized they were not a threat, he allowed some into his court. If he let you rub his back, and he sat on your shoes so you could not leave, you had passed the test.
He shared me with work for six years and rotated through a bevy of daytime walkers. And then I left my corporate job and was home a lot more. That suited him fine. We often worked from my porch or back patio and walks were leisurely and to his liking. He loved meeting the neighborhood dogs, the brewery dogs and training at the Zoom Room.
Beginning with the pandemic we were together almost 24/7 and our codependence grew. He was my unofficial emotional support dog, and I was his emotional support human.
He tolerated a lot for his mama. We dressed in theme costumes for Halloween (and almost every holiday). We wore goofy Christmas pajamas. And he wore tuxedos for the annual Humane Society Ties and Tails gala. The great team at Classic Grooming was always there to spruce him up for a big event.
We traveled a lot in the car. His favorite place was Sugar Mountain where I bought a condo. It was cool in the hot summers, and he delighted in the cooler weather with his flat nose. We went to Clemson a lot and he liked that a lot less, because I always left for a game when we were there. But he loved walking on the legendary Clemson dike where he could see the lake and the campus. We visited breweries, wineries and outside patios across the region. He was always game. I’d hook him into his car seat, and he’d look at me like “Where now Mama?”
He became a Clemson fan because he had to. He got Touchdown treats when Clemson scored – he would hear me yelling at the TV during away games and sit beside me in anticipation of a score.
He was full of contradictions. He was silly and soulful. He loved his routines and yet he changed them at will. He was tolerant and impatient; He was curious and unconcerned. He was excited and laid back. He was fascinated by tiny humans, but he didn’t want them to be too close, except for James who became his special friend. He wanted to be in the room with his people, but don’t try to hold him.
He lived a life of indulgence, but he cherished the simple things. Treats. A good meal, Fresh water. A long leisurely sniff filled walk. Visits with friends old and new. A float in the pool. Treats. The wind in his face and sunshine on his back. A back rub. A good outside nap. More treats.
Over the last couple of years as age began to catch up with him things changed a little. He lost his hearing and became more vocal. His walks became shorter, and I began a fitness quest. So, I would put him in his stroller, and we would roll around Dilworth, stopping when he needed to get out to check a sniff, mark a tree or greet a friend. He adapted and so did I. (Although he could run into his Grannie’s house until the very end). The years were golden.
About a month ago he lost use of his back legs. With meds and acupuncture, he recovered well. Then about a week ago he began to regress, eventually losing use of all four legs. The wonderful team at Long Animal Hospital tried everything, but it was not to be. It was time.
On his last day, he visited with his beloved Grannie, enjoyed a filet (He loved it, but I think he was annoyed that I had been holding out on this deliciousness all these years), he “strolled” outside. But mostly he wanted to be held and walked. It was my honor.
He passed at home assisted by Lap of Love with meaningful tributes from neighbors he adored.
He’s already sent me several signs that he is ok. I’m not, but I will be someday. And I have a lifetime of memories, beautiful and funny photos (many taken by Reflections by Rhiannon), and the gratitude for all Murphy gave me – unbounded joy, awareness of the magic of the outdoors, an appreciation of stillness and the preciousness of movement, and most importantly, a heart filled with love. I think if you asked him how his post rescue life went, he would say, “I had a great time.” I am proud to have been his Mama.
