Three Years

It was three years ago today that we had to say goodbye to Murray.

He was my baby. He was my life. And it is so heartbreaking to look at that picture of him and realize how much I've already forgotten. I hate that.

We have a new dog in our life now (Robbie) and when we first got him, I remember how weird it was to pet him. Murray had such long, soft fur. Robbie's is short and bristly. I thought, I will never get used to this. I don't like this. 

But now I'm used to it. Now when I think of petting a dog, I imagine it feels like petting Robbie - not Murray. And that makes me so sad.

Murray was very special. He was such a good dog for Matt and I and so difficult for so many other things. We could never bring him anywhere. He had some fear-based aggression issues. Or, really, overly protective aggressive issues. But never with us. So he was a stay at home dog. We took him on walks, of course. And he loved going to Grandma's house and he was so good with her. And he was fine at the groomers. He just had such a difficult initial reaction to people that it was always a bit trying and seemed best to avoid those situations.

Now, when I walk Robbie and he can greet anyone and anything and there is not a single concern of biting or growling, I just feel so relieved. Yet, I would never trade any of that for my time with Murray.

He was special. Very special. He never seemed like a dog. He was a true buddy. Robbie is very much a dog. Everything he does is very dog like. You give him a toy, he destroys hit. He wolfs down his food in seconds. Murray was so different. He had a ridiculously huge collection of stuffed toys because he never destroyed them. He just licked them. He would sit licking his toys - or "ducks" as we called them - for hours. We would just leave his food out and he would eat when he felt like it, but he never finished his bowl. The most dog-like thing he did was chase the ducks that would ever taunt him when we would go up to the cottages in the UP. He was so good up there, though. He could be off leash and he would stick by our side (except for when those damn ducks would swim by quacking at him).

My mother-in-law always said she'd never seen a dog look at people the way Murray looked at Matt and me. He LOVED us. And that made me feel like the best damn person in the world. Because to earn Murray's love like that was a very special thing.  Me, Matt, and grandma. Those were the only three people in the world he needed. And we were the luckiest three.

For as long as I have this blog, I will write about him on this day. Share a memory. Even if it's just about the feel of his fur. And tonight I will do a toast in his honor.

I miss you so much, Murray.

I wrote my whole album Intermission for him. This song is called "Pumpkin" - that was my nickname for him.