As Promised...

Here are the photos of Murphy investigating his new digs...   I think he likes it, though not sure who that  little hairless creature next door is who keeps peeking at him under the fence.  He is not sure what to make of the little boy who likes to throw sand. 

The Fence

Well it has been two days now and Murphy isn't so sure he likes all those young men walking around in his backyard. Of course last night we had a bit of a scare. It has been a relatively calm summer with only one week with a stretch of very hot humid weather but that didn't produce any of the kind of storms the summers here are known for. But last night was different, with the cold air coming down from the north and the day, warm at 85 in the shade, was a hot humid day.  By evening all around us there were thunderstorm cells developing with tornadic winds and even the husband was called off the golf course because of the storm, so it must be serious. (evil grin)

 

Having lived in this house now over 11 years, I have to say in all that time I can remember only once where I actually went to the basement during a tornado warning and had Mark with me.  That's not to say I haven't been there before on my own or at least with the dogs (Maggie our Newfy hated to go down steps so she waited out on the landing to the basement) many times and last night looked to be another of those times.  Murphy wasn't so sure about how dark (or should I say grey/green) it got so early in the evening and there was of course thundering in the distance (some big hunting dog he is going to make). First thing to prepare for a possible trip to the basement, I put on his flat collar with IDs, when he walks he wears one of those spikey choke collars to make him behave, and kept his leash near in case I heard the siren and we had to run to the basement in a hurry.   I was sitting at my desk in the kitchen and looked out at all the fencing material that was laying in the yard. 

 

Just my luck when we finally find a local contractor who could do the job at a reasonable price and within a time frame we could live with, it could all be blown away in a blink of an eye. The young men had been out all day on the fence, which is two sides chain link and one side wood (the other is the house). All the poles had been set in concrete and stood like little sentinels in the yard, but nothing was protecting the bales of chain link and piles of wood littering the yard that would be exposed to the high winds that were sure to blow the lot across the street into our neighbor's house. At least we knew where to get it when the dust settled. 

 

I watched the storms on my laptop, charging it as I went knowing that usually the first thing to go in such a storm was the electricity, Not having a radio station locally that I can stomach listening to, I use my laptop for weather reports. In the past this has worked beautifully and is often more accurate than the local "shitkicker" radio station. As the night progressed it grew apparent the “fence gods” were with us because most of the storms that rolled through this part of the state missed us by either going too far south (sorry my friends in the Chicago area) or just enough north (ten miles) so that we got only distant thunder and drenched with rain, which we need badly.  The fence material was safe for the night, as long as the neighborhood graffiti artists weren’t drawn to piles of fresh unpainted wood. 

 

Today is a beautiful warm, not hot, day with the sun shinning and I hear the buzz saw cutting wood and the pounding of nails in wood railings along the sidewalk side of the house. As to Murphy, well he has resolved himself to those men being back in his yard again. They have the chain link up and attached. Only the wood privacy side is left to be finished. What was meant to be a two-day project actually is a two-day project, how novel.  Murphy is going to love having a whole area to run and chase balls and Frisbees without having to be on a long leash.  And I am hoping that we actually get our living room back. As mentioned before Murphy has acted as if the outside is for his daily business and for laying in the warm sun while the living room is his own personal gym.  The bigger he gets, (65 pounds at 7 months) the more it hurts when he does a bank shot off your body when you are sitting on the couch watching TV. 

 

Mark just reported in that apparently they wont be totally done today, I spoke too soon.  At the back door of the house, which opens out onto the fenced yard, there is to be a gate that allows one into the rest of the back yard toward the deck and garage,  (we only enclosed about a third of the side yard). Apparently the size of the gate is being custom made, we wanted it a bit bigger than normal to get things into the area, and it isn't complete yet. So a bit disappointed to be sure, as I want Murphy out there today, we have decided the gate from his kennel can be bungee corded into the area until the other arrives. Nothing is keeping me from getting that dog out into the yard today. Other than a few walks with Mark, he has missed playing in his pool in little kennel and I have missed the hour intervals where I actually had some free time to get a few things done without having to trip over dog, rawhide chews and chewed up tennis balls. 

 

Well, I will post some pictures later today or tomorrow, whenever we can find the cord to download them to the laptops.  

 

Jody and Murphy

 

Water

Well Murphy visited the vet today to get his stitches out from his neutering surgery two weeks ago. He also has been on a antibiotic for a skin rash that had developed about a month ago, but appears to be under control. Not sure where or why the rash came about but we think he might have picked up something after swimming with my brother's dog a month or so. My brother’s do is much older, so might be immune to things in the water.  So the good thing he got the go ahead to go back in the water, but we are going to be more careful of where he swims lakes vs rivers.  

 

With his dislike of rain, we thought maybe we got that one Labrador retriever who was afraid of water. I guess it could be worse my brother’s Lab falls asleep when duck hunting and has been known to fall out of the boat. We learned quickly if it was raining out he wasn't going out unless you went with him. I spent many a day this spring with him sitting in the rain (I can't stand long, so I use a chair), as he did his business. He seemed to enjoy it only if I was getting soaked as well as he was. Then we introduced the kiddie pool.

 

Well anything new in his environment and he will spend at least 20 minutes barking at it and even stalking it. Well we used his pool when we gave him his first bath because he is now 65 pounds the bathtub was out of the question. I didn't want to drive all the way to Germantown to use the local Petco’s self serve dog wash facilities. Gotta love the concept, it is like a self serve car wash, you are given a space, water from hoses made for dog washing, they supply the soap and hair drying and they do the clean up. To bad they don't have places like this for messy toddlers.  

 

So anyway we decided to wash him outside in the pool that he didn’t like. I refused to pay $40 for one of those attachments to the hose that allowed the water to mix with the soap. Instead being the cheap Scot, my ancestors would be proud, I purchased in the Garden dept from my local Walmart, one of those plastic sprayers from Ortho that you use for pesticides. I filled it with warm water mixed with his oatmeal soap and it worked fantastic and was much cheaper (about $9). Once we got him in the pool and warm water started to flow, he loved it. Though to be honest trying to manage him and the hose and get all the soap out of his fur and not get it in his eyes was a chore and definitely not a one-man job. It took me and Mark about a half hour but he got squeaky clean. Though he kept eyeing the dirt pile when were done, but we ushered him in the house to towel him off and let him dry in his crate. As was it was a hot day so he was nice and cool and slept until he was off to the vet to become an IT. 

 

From that day on he has loved his pool. One would have thought he wouldn't because he wasn't too sure about the bath, but it had the opposite effect.  Last week when we had a day that was especially hot and humid he dumped a full bowl of water on the kitchen floor and laid in it panting. Time to take out the pool and give it another try. I spent the first twenty minutes with him barking at it while I filled it with water. To tempt him I threw in a few toys. Well that stopped the barking, then he started drinking it, then he tried to tip it over, ( hell I couldn't do it and I have opposable thumbs) like his water dish and that didn't work. So first one paw in and then another and bingo he was in splashing and chasing his toys around. His Kongs, he won't other play with in the house, he loves in his pool, I think because they create bubbles when they sink. He has loved his pool ever since though my kitchen floor is constantly tracked with muddy doggie paw prints.  But he does have one annoying habit that keeps me from playing in the pool with him. Like many a young child in a kiddie pool, he doesn't want to play until he makes it all his; he pees in the pool. UGH!  I refuse to clean the pool each day, so he has the pool all to himself. 

 

Hopefully the next big event in his life is his new fence. Our property is on two city lots, so we are creating a large fenced in area of yard for him (on the second lot) to have free reign to run and play. I hate staking out a dog. Will have pictures later on the first days, we are planning play dates with my brother's Lab.  

 

 Check out this really cute UTube video, I want to hire this man who is singing to his dogs, I wonder if I can get a tape of it, bedtimes here are always a lot of barking and whining, reminds me when our kids were young, unfortunately we couldn't crate them, darn!!

 

Have a great weekend, 

Jody and Murphy, who can't wait to get his pool cleaned and his doghouse all set up for his new fence.

Bones

I know you're thinking that all dogs like bones, and I can assure you Murphy likes his bones as well. He has a large knuckle bone that at one time had been  beef flavored but has since  been licked cleaned. He loves that bone and carries it everywhere he goes in the house. The problem though,  he is easily distracted by socks I miss doing my daily sweep of Murphy contraband from the living room or if he sneaks upstairs were we are less careful. He also loves his yellow tennis balls, so when  he is distracted he will drop that bone where ever he is. And it usually ends up on my foot, my bare foot. A couple of times I thought he may have broken a bone on the or two on my abused feet.  And with osteoporosis I have to worry about breaking bones. But broken bones and dogs are nothing new to me. 

On Christmas Day of last year, when I was going upstairs to bed my left knee finally gave out, it had been bothering me all week but it was Christmas and my daughter was home who wants to be a whinny wussie. I had been nursing my right knee from the past Christmas break when I fell off a chair (yes I am  klutz) and hit hard on a bare wood floor. It was extremly painful and difficult to walk.  My athletic daughter thought I tore my ACL, not a good thing. I hobbled around Christmas Day listening to my 83 year  old mother tell me maybe I was too old to have another dog.  Hey Mom I am only 56. And once I saw the pictures of the puppies there was no turning back now my heart was committed. I nursed the knee along but eventually I had to get an mri and sure enough I had torn a number of ligaments and strained the knee quite bad, talking with my doctor he assured me it was knee replacement time. All I could think about was how I was to manage the new puppy, because my husband was adament this was "my dog, my reponsibility". Fortunately seeing my orthopedic doc, she said no surgery until the swelling went down and as I could take no meds for it because of other health concerns it looked like my surgery could be put off for at least 6 months.  When I asked what I should do to shorten the waiting time she  said "stay off of it."  Like that is possible, even without a two month old puppy underfoot in our house coming in a couple of weeks. Yikes!  The good thing was I wouldn't be on crutches when Murphy arrived. 

Well it took exactly four days  after his arrival for me to end up in the local emergency room with a possible broken wrist. Yes it was dog related. I was taking Murphy outside for his "bathroom walkies", and while being careful to miss the patches of February ice/snow and a puppy that went every which way, I hadn't planned on my husband coming around the corner. Murphy was so happy to see him he took  off and I didn't get a chance to anchor my bad knee and down I went. I knew I didn't fall on the puppy because he was jumping over me giving me wet kisses, because of course I am his littermate so I was  there to have fun with him.  I lay there awhile thankful no bones were sticking out of my knee. But what  I heard really bothered me, I carefully turned my head and I see my husband doubled over not in pain but in laughter. I was angry now because no one likes to get laughed at and I wanted him to help take the dog so I could get up  off the cold wet ground, which he did.

But when I tried to get up he started yelling at me to be careful where I stuck my hand on the ground I apparently fell right between about three or four piles of Murphy's bodily gifts that hadn't been picked up yet that day. How I fell without falling in one of them or the dog is basically one of life's mysteries. When I got up I could see I left a body print in the snow like one of those crime scene outlines with doggie dodo all around. Thankfully the Dog Poop Fairy was taking care of me this time because it was a miracle I didn't land in any of the Murphy gifts.  With my bad knee it took me a while to get settled on my knee so I could walk but when I tried to take the leash back I knew I broke my wrist,  I couldn't grasp the leash without severe pain. I looked to my husband and said he would take the dog in so I could change my clothes because he knew I would be taking a trip to the emergency room.  I didn't want him going with me and telling everyone at the hospital how I fell and missed the doggie dodo. I was embarrased enough and knew my family would be relentless when they heard I fell over the dog and broke my wrist again. Mark of course would tell them of my narrow escape from landing in the doggie dodo. 

After I got there they ran some xrays and were pretty sure that I broke my wrist but didn't want to cast it, even though I pleaded for one if only for protection from the dog bumping it, but alas  they said no and made an appt with my Orthopedic doc for the following  week. Mind you by the time I go home my wrist  is aching and  was not being able to take any pain meds because of another condition, but I have a high tolerance for pain so I would get thru this.  Until I got home and found my mom had called. I really didn't want to call her back but I felt guilty and when I did she could hear the pain in my voice. I admitted that I had fallen and broke my wrist, again ( I had broken it the first time on the playground in third grade, again when I was 20 when I ran down the steps to answer a phone call from my future husband and did a  header down a flight of stairs). Three times a charm, right!! Anway of course the first thing she said was, " I bet you  I fell over the dog, didn't you." "Of course not mom, I slipped on some ice and my knee gave out." I didn't tell her that the dog leash was in my hand at the time and I was indeed walking the dog but later on she did figure it out and I had to listen to her "I told you so," over and over, at 83 she tends to forget she told you something so she is going to repeat a few times 'til she is sure she told you, God love her. 

When I went to the orthopedic doc she casted in a bright denim blue cast ( that by the way only stayed on my wrist about two weeks before I would wake up the next day with it lying next to  me in bed . Guess I am a freak of nature because she never had this happen  ( except infants) where within an hour of casting the cast is so lose it will come off).  She did chastize me because of my diagnosis of Osteoporosis and warned me that the healing will be slow and probably wouldn't heal completely, she was right. We chuckled over the fact I did this for the third time and that a dog was involved her being a dog lover herself. Then she looked at my record and saw where in Feb. 1999 I broke my ankle and wanted to know how it happened and if I had problems healing, which I didn't. But I did sheepishly admitted that incident also involved a dog. 

I was taking my daughter to the high school for midterm exams and thought to take our 140 pound newfie Maggie along with us as she loved to ride in the car. It had wamed up the day before and snow had melted but then over night froze. I was walking down two steps ( read that 2 steps) and the dog went one way and my ankle went another when it hit some black ice and down I went. The problem though was when I stood up I couldn't stand on my foot as it was really wasn't attached to the leg anymore, it sort of broke off the leg. It was the scariest feeling in the world.  A rescue squad was called and took my husband about ten   minutes to get the dog away so the paramedics could get to me before I went into shock. I spent 6 days in the hospital and when I came home and was confined to bed rest and  Maggie screened all my visitors,  always keeping the visitors away from the broken ankle. She was a great dog, though I'm not so sure Murphy has the same instincts to protect and serve. 

So as you can see it appears that dogs aren't really mine until they cause me to break a bone or two. Though with Osteoporosis this probably isn't a good tradition to continue ... 

Murphy says have a great day and don't forget to give your dog a real bone, pig's ears are for wussies. 

Jody and Murphy

Monday July 20... PAPER

Well I am jumping the gun a bit here with this post but I have to get my writing minutes in tonight before 4 A.M. You see when I write I like to do it late at night, I try to write from 10 or 11 until 3 or 4. My husband calls those vampire hours but because I don’t work outside the home at the moment I can sleep in which I think he equates as being lazy.

 My topic today is paper.  To Murphy it doesn’t matter if it is a newspaper, a mail envelope, a receipt, the plans from the surveyor to be delivered to the city for our building permit or toilet paper he loves it all. Oh he doesn’t eat it, he just likes to shred it from one end of the house to the other. No paper, not matter how small is safe. His favorite of course are newspapers because there is always an endless supply for him to get. He likes newspapers so much he will take a running  jump from the back of the couch across a couch table to reach the newspapers he knows are on the dinning room table (a good ten feet) and his feet never touch the ground. Rather startling to walk in and find a 5-month-old puppy, who weighs close to 50 pounds, lying on your dinning room table having the time of his young life ( and he almost ended then) shredding paper for the next celebration parade.   Then he looks up with at you with goofy Lab grin that says see mom how clever I am.

He also loves toilet paper. Our cat used to love to sit on the john and pull all the paper off the roll. Well Murphy is too dignified to do that. He waits until I head to the bathroom and lays in front of the door so I can’t go in without him. Why the trip to the bathroom is such a thrill I don’t know, though it may be that if we are not careful when taking a shower he likes to climb in take one with us. Cute when he was a puppy at 30 pounds not so funny at 65 pounds and he won’t get out unless you do and hogs the water.

Now unlike the cat he doesn’t pull off the paper from the roll on his own, it is only when you pull off your piece that he demands his own piece, which he proceeds to eat and then choke on every time. But if you don’t give it to him don’t think about even getting off the john, isn’t going to happen because he will lay under your feet and if you try to stand he stands too and you go flying into the glass shower door. Now the simple solution, you say, would be to lock him out in the first place. Well unlike my children when they were young who would sit in front of the locked bathroom door and kick their feet to rhythm of their screams, he has learned to jump up and turn the doorknob (there is no lock on the door). Not sure how he is doing this, maybe our dead cat is channeling the instructions because she could do it as well, but he gets in every time. 

The bottom line is you never realize just how much paper one has in their daily lives until you have a dog that loves to shred it. Though I do try to keep things in perspective. My brother and his wife came home one day to find that his Lab had eaten a couch: yes all that was left that was identifiable was pieces of wood and the springs. A very bored Labrador named Mocha did this carnage in one afternoon.

Well from Murphy and me hope you all  have a great Monday and we will be back tomorrow with more adventures, as long one of us doesn’t run away in the meantime.

Jody and Murphy 

PS He also loves to chew on books ( especially the binding)  as well as the cover of books and many of you know I am avid reader of romance and historical fiction as well have a large collection of Romance and  Scottish research books. Last week I caught him snitching books off my shelf near my desk and I followed him to find that he had been pilfering the bookshelf and stashing the books under a corner table for later chewing. In our house damaging books is a hanging offense and he spent much of the rest of that day in his crate for bad behavior. But the minute he got out he was back cruising to see where he could find more books to hide in his stash. 

Naming the pup!!

Picking a name for an animal is quite like picking a name for a child, you hope they grow into it and that is reflects their personality but you're never quite sure. We have had experience with unusal names in our family my name is "Jody",  which back in the early 50's was most often a Southern boys name.  But you see my dad was sure my mum was having a boy and because he had been reading the book THE YEARLING at the time it was going to be "Jody" boy or girl.  When we adopted our daugher from Korea I gave the family naming tradition a twist.

We named our daughter, who is now 26, for her grandfather  (my dad), so she is named Scottie Bree (the Bree was in case she wanted to use a more girlie name). I think she was in third grade when she came home and told me a boy in her class acccussed her of having a boy's name so she proceeded to punch him in the mouth. Sadly, I had to sit her down and tell her  most people named  Scottie  were boys, but that she was named for her grandfather and he would be really proud she had his name. After awhile the name really seemed to fit Scottie and from then I don't think it bothered her at all. It wasn't until she was in high school that the name became an issue again when college and military literature  came to our house addressed to Mr Scottie...  And she even got notice to come in sign up for the draft. We had to inform them that she was willing to come ,but that they needed to check their records because Scottie was a girl.  

Murphy @ six weeks old 

When we first saw a picture of Murphy we started to make list of doggie names. But though we had a long list, we decided to wait until we had him in our house. My husband, who loves Star Wars , wanted to call him JABBA THE PUP. I couldn't believe my daughter actually thought I would go along with because she liked it. Can you imagine standing in  your yard and yelling 'Jabbba, Jabba the Pup, time to come in"?  I thought they were crazy to think I would even consider it. Though when we got him he was a bit of a heavy lump not unlike the film star Jabba the Hut.  

I wanted to him to give him a Scottish name, yeah I know I have a thing for Scotland.  But I also wanted a short name or call name. The list was long from Angus to Mungo, we were going for the Ale and Whisky name in Scotland mostly.  When the husband and daughter started to tag team on the name of Jabba the Pup, I decided that maybe I should call him Cabela, for the sports and hunting store. Well they decided that we should all revisit the names list when he arrived.

 About a week before Valentine's Day we drove an hour and a half across the state to pick him up. The breeder "Carlson's Labradors" - check out the link section-- were all ready for us when we arrived.  She gave him his puppy shot, told us about the kind of  food he needed and signed over the papers. The whole time I was holding this squirmy puppy in my arms like a new 13 pound baby. Our ride home was eventful, he doesn't do well in the car ( still doesn't) and he threw up all over me for the hour and a half ride home. I was thinking a few choice names for him at that moment but I can't repeat them here.  

When we arrived home,  he proceeded to terrorize our 14 year old cat  Moggy, who was throughly disgusted with this new interloper and us. She had  had the house for three years to herself after our Newfy died. Of course the puppy thought-- "goodie a new playmate".  The cat however went upstairs and procceded, to over the next four weeks, starve herself  forcing us to put her down because her liver died. So  there went Murphy's playmate, but of course he had me his "new littermate". And yes I did watch the "Dog Whisperer" videos about being the Alpha dog in the house but apparently Murphy had missed that class at the breeder and between us he is the Alpha male and I'm his playmate, beverage dispenser and food waiter. AS to doing his "business walkies"  he would prefer my husband to me, maybe it is a boy thing? 

He was in our house for only a little while before he began to destroy  all that I  missed when I did  the sweep of baby proofing the downstairs for him. Right from the start we crate trained him with a nice cushion for him to sleep on. And by the next morning  after  I had had only a couple of hours of sleep as he cried the whole night through,  I discovered the nice cushion was now just tatters. And still we were working on the name, but to go along with the Star Wars theme I was thinking "CHEWIE" might be very fitting name.   

By this time I was pretty exhuasted trying to stay one step ahead of him be it things he found  or his doing his "business" when ever the urge hit him no matter where he was. Can a Lab have ADHD?  I suppose an indian name like "He who can't remember to scratch at the back door" might work but he still didn't have the right ring to it. By this time my husband after an endliess clean up duty day was opting for the name  OSAMA BIN LABRADOR, as the puppy had become our very own litttle brown terrorist. But I knew that I couldn't stand at my back door in my conservative neigborhood of West Bend and be yelling "Osama time to come in". I mean if the SAS and the Navy SEALs couldn't find the real Osama, I didn't want to give my neighbors ideas where he might be. 

Now my first choice was Mungo, who was the Scottish Saint for the city of Glasgow but I couldn't convince my husband of the name so we went back to the list which had names like Angus, Duncan,  a few Scottish Whisky names which was the husband's contribution and finally we had a list of 20 name, but we could both only agree on one MURPHY. So Murphy he became, but of course I wanted his name to be a bit more unique than that so with the wonderful help of my friends on my Scottish Writers loop  who speak Scottish Gaelic we translated his full name Murphy, brown dog of the sea to Murchadh donn, cù a' chuan.  Don't ask me to pronounce it because i can't nor do I need to, but when I sent in his papers to AKC to register him they accepted the name without question or to have an explanation.   So that is why he became Murphy and to be honest it quite fits him like a glove, probably a chewed glove but a glove non the less.   

Stay tuned for Murphy adventures in the coming days... 

Jody 

Welcome

Greetings, I started this blog, whether it is read by anyone but me as a means of keeping my sanity as we go thru the first year with our chocolate Lab Retreiver named  Murphy or to the AKC People. . . Murchadh donn, cù a' chuan (Scots Gaelic for Murphy brown dog of the sea, except a comma got put in the wrong place and his name reads Murphy brown, dog of the sea- maybe  this was an omen of things to come).  

Anyway three years ago when we put down my eight year old 145 pound Newfoundland, Maggie after a day of seizures I swore that was it, No MORE DOGS.  After 33 years of marriage and five dogs I thought enough was enough. Though I was rasied in a household that always had dogs ( a collie, numerous mix breed dogs, an English Setter, an Irish Setter and a couple of Labrador Retrievers) it seemed only natural to have a dog around when we were raising our kids.  But both kids had left the nest now and without a dog to worry about I could now go with my husband on his business trips and not worry. And with both kids off creating new lives soon there should be some grandkids I could lavish my excess love on. 

Well three years later, having not gone on a single business trip with my husband, and there appeared to be no grandkids in sight; one child too involved in golf to even consider a significant other and the other persuing her dreams that included  a year in Italy before seeking her Phd, I thought maybe I wanted another dog. What was I thinking... 

As much as I wanted another Newfoundland, remembering the slobber clean up and the hairballs the size of a small dog that seemed to occur twice a year, I knew that I couldn't do that all over again. But I like big dogs. I looked  at maybe a Scottish Deerhound or an Irish Wolfhound but reading their health issues it looked like reading my own health issues. Remembering my dad's last Labrador Retreiver, Ding and being around my brother's Labrador,  Moose, I thought of looking for a "Lab" breeder locally. I came upon a breeder here  in Wisconsin who was cross breeding ( whatever the correct word is) an American line of Labs with an English Lab  line, which created smaller, huskier Labs with less hyper disposisitons. But what drew me to this breeder the most was her breeding sire DP's Running on Faith (DP).  DP is an English Labrador who has the head of  a Newfoundland but the clean lines (hopefully less shedding) of a Labrador Retriever.  I had found my breeder, who I quickly  contacted to find that they were expecting a litter sired by DP and their American/English Lab female  "Symphony". I was thrilled and hoped there would be a male in the liter. That day came December 18, 2008, my husband's 57th birthday and there was only one male in a small litter of five puppies.  

I had dropped numerous hints to my husband that I would like a dog for my Christmas present and showed him the website earlier before the pups were born. He wasn't too thrilled but when I suggested that the dog would be a good companion for me while he was golfing all summer long, I'm sure he thought if I had a dog I might just stop pestering him about how much time he spent golfing. Come Christmas morning I had a number of small packages under the tree. I opened the first to find a cookie cutter in the shape of a dog, the next was a calendar of all chocolate Lab puppies and last was a box that held confirmation that in fact the breeder was holding the only male puppy from DP and Tank's litter in my name. Of course as the puppy was only a week old at the time I wouldn't be able to pick him up until February 14th, of which my husband had ammeded on the gift announcement that this was really a Christmas/Valentines gift. Had to chuckle because after 36 years of marriage I could count on one hand that number of times he remembered Valentines Day. But I was happy that we would have another dog in our home, he was happy I wouldn't nag about the golf. As if that was going to stop me. 

So this blog of Mutterings on Murphy is my mental health therapy to get me thru the first year with Murphy who is often referred to as the little brown terrorist who often holds us hostage to his commands. Though he has been with us now five months now I have a bit of catching up to do to introduce you to Murphy but I hope you will enjoy my slip into madness as I become the "human littermate" of Murphy.  Come back when you can, can't always promise you  a laugh but at least my life with Murphy might make yours seem a lot less crazy. 

Jody and Murphy