06/22/2013
In Memory of Murphy on the second anniversary of his passing...
I’m often asked, “How do you do it, work tirelessly for the cause and the mission?” And, “Why did you get involved in the beginning?” The ugly truth is, in the beginning, I just wanted to make sure that Hudson and Murphy arrived in Boston safely. And if Luke got there safely, too, . . . well, that would be an added bonus.
I watched over Hudson, Murphy, and Luke from the fateful day they walked into Memphis in August 2008, to the time they took their final steps into Boston on June 19, 2010, and I learned. I thought I knew that one out of three dogs get cancer in their lifetime and that one in four die from it. I thought I understood the meaning of “Puppy Up!” Then in 2010, I lost eight close canine friends to cancer, including my very own Pete. The numbers are just numbers until one of your own is one more. When I heard Pete’s diagnosis, I wept silently in a friend’s arms. I prayed to God that if he was truly merciful, he would take Pete and not make me have to make the decision that every pet parent dreads.
My prayers were answered.
Then, weeks after getting the news about Pete, our very own Murphy was diagnosed with nasal cancer. My cries were not silent this time. I wailed, kicked, screamed, and cried on the floor for hours. Not Murphy, my God, not Murphy. It was sick, unbelievable, that Murphy’s cancer had been growing while he walked all those miles to raise awareness of canine cancer. There must have been days he didn’t feel good. As Luke tells the story, Murphy was always the first one wanting to start the day, always the first one out of the tent in the morning. He never wavered.
That same strength is what kept Murphy going through eighteen rounds of radiation at CSU. He came back to Memphis, full of life, running in the back yard, taking down my Lilly and holding her there with that big Pyr paw. Sure, there were times he slept more than not, wouldn’t eat—or only if I hand-fed him. But there were also times he was all Murphy, and then some, demanding belly scratches, dinner. I had hope.
Those last months, there were times we danced, times we snuggled, times just shared, until time ran out. In the end, there were times we leaned into one another to just “be” together. And then time ran out.
Personally and as the executive director of 2 Million Dogs, I’m asking that you take time to walk your dog today and before your walk begins to dedicate each step to the one who was always the first out of the tent, who walked thousands of miles, always smiling, for others though he suffered himself; the one whose courage and strength will always lead the way because he embodied our rally cry and our song, “Puppy Up!” And I have my answer. He is still my reason. Murphy.
Puppy Up!
Ginger Morgan
Executive Director
2 Million Dogs
