How do You Save a Starfish?
An old man walking along a beach one day, notices a youth picking up starfish
and flinging
them into the sea. The old man asks, "Why are you doing this?" The
young man responds, "If
left on the beach 'til the noonday sun, they will die." "But,"
protests the old man, "the beach
goes on for miles and there are millions of starfish. How can your
effort make any
difference?" Looking at the starfish in his hand, the young man
replies, "It makes a very real
difference to this one."
-- Source Unknown
We have a “starfish” in our family. His name is Murphy and he's a senior
Airedale – twelve years old. He joined us in June and, now, in September, it
seems like he's been our friend forever.
Murphy was rescued in the Canadian north. Due to a change in his family's
circumstances, our boy ended up in the care of someone who felt it was
acceptable to tie an old dog out in the harsh Yukon weather, day in and day
out. He had little human contact, no toys, no friends….he was wasting away from
sheer misery until Pascale Black of Whitehorse from
AireCanada Airedale Terrier Rescue Network
stepped in. She took him home, cleaned his wasted little body,
groomed him to look beautiful, loved him and fed him – but she couldn't keep
him herself. She already had as many dogs as Whitehorse bylaws allow.
Pascale advertised Murphy – he's a sweetheart, she said; can't someone give him
a home? she begged. The situation was becoming desperate. Already saved from
certain death once because of his plaintive barking, he was again in danger of
crossing that oh-so-permanent rainbow bridge.
AireCanada members ourselves, we saw many of the postings Pascale sent, trying
to convince someone to take Murphy. Well, we said, if you're really that
desperate, we'll foster him.
Now, another dog, especially an old one, was not first on our list of “things
we want to acquire this year.” We had recently sent our fifteen year old Chow
over the bridge after spending a small fortune in hopes of effecting a cure for
her physical ailments. My husband in particular was very opposed to the idea of
adopting a senior dog. It will, he said, be prohibitively expensive. Remember,
he urged, we are retired and on a fixed income,aside from those university
courses you teach. This dog could cost us a lot of money.
But, no one wanted the little starfish, so he came to us.
A dog is like an eternal Peter Pan, a child who never grows old and who
therefore is always available to love and be loved.
--Aaron Katcher, American Educator and Psychiatrist
When we first met Murphy, we were appalled. He was a walking bonepile who
trembled pitifully when he tottered toward us. His ribs stuck out; his
vertebrae were like mountain ridges. We were terrified he wouldn't last the
night.
We stuffed him with food, handed out treats recklessly and finally offered the
lovely, soft bed purchased especially for him. He had been curled in a
miserable little heap on a door mat. At the sight of the bed, his rather large,
expressive eyes widened. He got the “For ME?” look we were to see so often over
the next few months, but allow himself to be enticed into the cozy warmth. Once
assured that the bed would not be cruelly removed, Murphy stretched and
wriggled and finally cuddled up for the night. We thought he might be smiling
slightly in his sleep.
Murphy and Angie
|
From that memorable day, our boy, Murphy, has made himself at home in both our
lives and our hearts. The removal of several badly infected teeth and a number
of bleeding warts has resulted in a much happier, healthier old fellow who eats
heartily and has gained ten pounds in three months. The trembling wraith we
invited in out of the cold is now forty solid pounds of affectionate Airedale,
far less troublesome than our younger female, Angie, but still as curious as a
cat, ready to bark at the paper boy, investigate the garbage, and tell us
loudly when he needs more food, a new drink or some affection. A comedian like
most Airedales, he has been known to fling his water bucket down the stairs to
show it is empty, steals his pal, Angie's, favorite chirping hummingbird, and,
when bored, plucks divots out of the grass. He taught Angie how to dig holes
and both watched in delight as an entire, very large, clump of tiger lilies in
the garden toppled as a result of Airedale “gardening.” When he wants to go for
a walk, he grabs his tags and leads himself around until someone notices.
Because he almost literally inhales his food, perhaps for fear there will be no
more forthcoming, he belches most artistically, a trait the toddling grandchild
is attempting to emulate. He's learning to play again and was observed
tentatively shaking a stuffed monkey, all the while peering at us to make sure
toy shaking was acceptable. Much to our amusement, he stalks the concrete cat
who decorates the hearth in the living room. He's starting to beg for tidbits
lately, too, but being elderly and somewhat stiff, he seems to feel that
lounging at mom's feet, jaws agape, while she pops in the goodies works best.
We have enjoyed watching Murphy's badly damaged self-confidence flourish; now
healthier and knowing he is much beloved, he patrols the yard with a swagger
and a bounce in his step. When the Toy Poodle, our pet of longest standing and,
hence, the pack alpha dog, attempted to steal Murphy's dinner recently, he
warned her off with a gentle-but-I-mean-it “grrrrrrr!” Three months ago, he
would have gone hungry before defending his food.
Murphy is not a beauty. Our Angie, an ex-showgirl, is a fine looking, robust
animal. Murphy, by contrast, is a stringy, small-boned, fellow. He has black,
fly-away ears, bowed front legs, huge feet and is clumsy as a puppy. He has
lost considerable of his vision as a result of being shut outside with no
protection from reflective northern light on snow. Consequently, he squints.
He's missing a couple of back teeth. His head is rather small which make his
eyes look extremely large. His tail is too short and he's arthritic. However,
he does have a magnificent cream and grey curly coat and the disposition of an
angel.
Angie adores him.
She tolerates him competing with her for upright
affection and attention; she does not flounce away when he cuddles up to her.
She looks after her venerable playmate and is always near him – even when this
means leaving the uprights to fend for themselves.
My husband was right – bringing Murphy up to date on vaccinations and having
some neglected medical work done was costly, but no more so than doing the same
for a younger rescue. Murphy is such a game old boy, one simply can't begrudge
the dollars spent on him. The skeletal animal who joined us three months ago
still had enough pizzazz, even then, to join the family for hikes of several
miles. An early bodyslam from Angie during that first week brought him to his
knees but, after uttering a squeak and mumbling a bit, he clambered up, ready
to play again. He issued bignosepokes with the best, even as he swayed on his
stiff little legs, and clearly thought it immensely funny to victimize an
upright wearing the flimsiest of night attire.
Did I mention we were fostering Murphy? That's all changed. He's home with us
forever. Inviting this little starfish into our lives was one of the best
things we have ever done – both for ourselves and for Murphy. Our only regret
is that he will enrich our lives only too briefly – but, like a particularly
splendid roman candle, when the time comes for him to cross the rainbow bridge,
he will live for a very long time in our memories. We will be the better for
crossing his path and asking him in….our little starfish!
"I can't think of anything that brings me closer to tears than when my old dog
-- completely
exhausted after a hard day in the field -- limps away from her nice spot in
front of the fire and
comes over to where I'm sitting and puts her head in my lap, a paw over my
knee, and closes
her eyes and goes back to sleep. I don't know what I've done to deserve
that kind of friend."
-- Gene Hill, "The Dog Man"
Maureen Scott
Vancouver, BC, Canada
September, 2001
Copyright 2001
Maureen Scott
Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission of the author is
prohibited.
Visit Andrea Denninger's web site
Airedales on Parade -- Spotlight on Rescue
and the
AireCanada
website
for more about Murphy.
Update on Murphy: Murphy celebrated birthday #13 in October, 2002. Murphy asked me to attach his favorite photo -- he used this on his Christmas cards this year. It shows how nice and round and healthy he looks these days. He declares it is all the good food, tummy tickles and hugs that do the job....
5/18/04
There is an empty collar in our home this morning and a huge empty space in our hearts.
Yesterday, we were obliged to send Murphy the Wonder Dog aka Pinantan Charlie's Mr. Jim, AireCanada's Yukon rescue boy and our dear friend all rolled into one, over the Rainbow Bridge. He left us with a smile, a kiss and a jaunty wave, the sun shining brightly behind him, dappling his lovely silver and champagne coat one last time.
On Friday, we discovered that our beloved boy had an inoperable highly aggressive stomach cancer. He was uncomfortable but, being an Airedale, refused to disclose his pain until the condition was well advanced. Due to his overall frail condition, no remedies would have been possible anyway. We selfishly kept him over the weekend, stuffed him with his favorite pizza and took him for walks in his beloved buggy. He was hugged and kissed by us and fussed over by Angie and Pifflesqueak and must have known how much we all loved him and how terribly hard it was for us to say a final goodbye.
The vet and his staff held what amounted to a memorial service after Murphy's departure, all of us sitting on the floor around Murphy, stroking his soft coat, and talking about what a splendid fellow our boy was.
Last night when sleep eluded me, all sorts of snapshots of Murphy flooded my head. I saw him wobbling tentatively toward us when Pascale Black, his rescuer, offered him to us. He was skeletally thin, so thin we could see his heart beart. I saw Murphy shaking the daylights out of his toys, uprooting the hydrangea, challenging a c*t fool enough to wander into the compost box in the yard and stalking the concrete c*t that graces our fireplace hearth. I saw Murphy leaping back from Squeak's nipping teeth after he had accidentally trodden upon her and could still hear him ferociously attacking the mail that landed on his head when he chose to sleep under the mail slot. I saw Murphy riding up high in Jim's truck, so proud to be with my husband. I saw Murphy lounging in his customary place on the stairs and lying on his fine bed by the TV, losing himself under the table and being flattened by clumsy Little Miss A who fell off the bed directly onto him. I saw his funny little beard and his odd walk and how he recoiled from a visit outside when it snowed. I saw his big expressive eyes light with joy when a treat was offered and watched him once more snatch up a leash so we could take him for a walk. I remembered his odd little OOK! OOK! OOK! of a bark and how he customarily wandered about growling to himself even when nothing was wrong. I saw Murphy and heard him and was comforted . . . .
Murphy the Wonder Dog: Oct. 4, 1989 ~ May 17, 2004
May he forever rest in peace, free from pain and happy to play with all those who crossed the bridge before him ~ too many to list here but all as deeply loved as he was ~ our little rescued starfish.
Very sadly,
Maureen, Jim, Angie A & Pifflesqueak the Toy Poodle
near Vancouver, BC, Canada
