After our dog Murphy died, we decided to take a break from pets for a while. Once I retired, we relished the ability to travel spontaneously--and for long stretches of time--without worrying about a canine companion back home. We figured it would be a very long time until we got another dog.
I admit, our decision to wait was also impacted by the fact that we were a little bit scarred from the experience of being Beagle parents. Beagles are not for beginners.
Things that Murphy ate:
Fruit (including pits) dropped from our plum tree,
My dad’s $300 glasses,
L’Oreal Spice #860 lipstick,
The molding off the stairs of our first San Francisco home—a circa 1898 Victorian,
Seven chocolate Power Bars including the foil wrappers,
Unidentified items of trash on our walks,
The side of a wicker trunk.
Things that Murphy ate that resulted in trips to the emergency vet:
The remaining contents of a small container of plumber’s putty,
While my parents were staying with her on the last night of our honeymoon: a bag of dried black beans, a box of cornstarch, and what was left of a jar of peanut butter (yes she unscrewed the top).
Evidence of her existence even now, 10 years later:
Claw marks on the dining room table from her scurrying off as we caught her cleaning up the remnants of a dinner party while we were bidding goodnight to our guests,
Previously mentioned psychological scars.
Things we can do now that she’s gone:
Put appetizers on the coffee table,
Own trash cans without secure lids,
Buy a new couch,
Leave the front door open,
Sleep until whenever without getting up at 5am to feed her,
Travel without worrying about who will take care of her and what items of theirs she will destroy while they are staying with her,
Eat in peace.
Things I miss about her:
The way she snuggled with me in the bed each night--first sleeping under the covers between my feet, and later coming up for air--our three heads lined up poking out of the covers,
The way she greeted me with excitement each time I came home,
The comfort I felt just by sitting in the same room with her.
Even so, I probably wouldn’t have another pet yet—in fact I never even considered a cat—if Fia hadn’t wandered into our lives and adopted us.
I know I’m so delinquent on this story. I promise details tomorrow.
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