John Grogan’s book Marley and Me: Life with the Worst Dog Ever made one thing abundantly clear. John Grogan never knew Murphy.

When Kathy and I were in graduate school, we really wanted a dog. “How much work could that be?” we wondered. After all, we were both done with our master’s degrees and on our way to becoming PhDs – we should be able to figure out dog ownership (so we thought!).

We picked up Murphy when she was about 8 weeks old from a farm in Mass. Half husky – that much was known about her. Probably some Aussie or Border Collie in there too. Kathy and I didn’t think to look up the traits of huskies – we just knew they were cool dogs!

Well Murphy taught us about huskies very quickly. Huskies are known to be smart – they’re also known for having lots of energy (they’ve been bred to run over 20 miles a day in the freezing cold) – they are escape artists – and they are “pack oriented” (read as: They don’t want to be alone!).

Turns out they can be destructive too!

Murphy was something else. The amount of trouble she made was extraordinary. Off the bat, she refused to be crated. She’d make this horrible howling noise for hours if she was in her crate. She also figured out how to get out of crates – and she escaped from no less than 3 crates – destroying two of them. And did she HATE to be alone! Every time we’d come home – starting when she was a pup – and not ending until the end – we never knew what we were going to come home to. Ripped up couch. Hole through a door. Hole through a wall. Ripped up shoes. A whole birthday cake on the counter that’s no longer there. Chewed up batteries – chewed up razors. Sand all over the kitchen table (where, according to our neighbor, she’d lay all day looking out the window – waiting for us). Cat litter all over the house. A hole in the door that goes to the cat-litter room – and cat litter all over the house again. Molding of doors chewed to dust. Carpet ripped up and shredded – permanently destroyed.

When we moved to New Paltz, we tried to fence her. We knew that she could scale chain-link fences of any height (yes, she had gotten over multiple 8-foot fences) – so we paid LOTS of money to get a sheer, cedar fence with no lips that she could climb up on. 6 feet high. She got over it. She got under it. She went through it. All multiple times.

Kennels would turn her down. Every time we had a pet sitter, we’d come home to shredded wood and carpet bits all over the place. We tried every single anti-anxiety drug – high doses. One made her pee in the house. None solved the separation anxiety problem. At all. One doctor looked us in the eye and recommended a doggy lobotomy. Seriously.

The kind folks at Gardiner Vet agreed to kennel her when we’d vacation during her later years. Each time we’d get her from the vet, she’d be missing another tooth from her incessant attempts to be free. Imagine, that was the BEST we could do to accommodate her when we went away.

With this all said, Murphy, the REAL worst dog in the world, had a heart of gold. She never hurt anyone – not a kid – not another animal – not even an old person (even though she used to herd old people when we’d be hiking in the woods – that never exactly won her any points …). And her independent, energetic spirit changed me entirely. In retrospect, it’s clear that I owe so much to her.

You see, back in the early 90s, I was what you might call a lazy lump. Beer and TV, what else did you need? I had no interest in exercise or the outdoors. But when Murphy entered our lives, it was clear that she needed exercise – which meant that I needed to get her that exercise. So I started hiking a little. It was easy to find trails – we were in New Hampshire. Within 10 minutes of our apartment we could find 5 great places with trails. Then I learned that hiking is actually interesting and fun – who knew!?? Ultimately, Murphy and I scaled Mt. Washington, Katahdin, and Adams – and we nearly made it to the top of Mt. Hood (see photo above). I now hike as much as I possibly can.

Of course, hiking a lot had little effect on Murphy’s anxiety and destructiveness – so I started to let her run. I’d throw a ball and she’d run to get it. But she never brought it back! So I decided I’d run with her. That was 1995. Then I found that running is interesting and fun! That really surprised me. Murphy became my marathon-training partner. She’d run over 20 miles with me in the dead of the Maine winter or the dog days of a New York summer. She could just go and go and go! And, of course, even if she’d just run 15 miles – she was just as likely to totally destroy the house if you left her!

With a total non-runner’s body, I’ve completed 7 marathons – and I have one first-place trophy to show for it – (of course that’s in my category – of like 5 guys – none in great shape … but still …). Thanks Murph!

Dispositionally, she oscillated between friendly and apathetic. She was either happy to see everyone – or she just kept to herself in a corner. As long as you were with her, she was fine – (unless it thundered, of course – when she turned into Linda Blair …).

She may not have been the best dog. OK, I do think we can make a good case that she was the worst. But she was ours – and we loved her.

Murphy’s health went downhill gradually. Cancerous lumps removed twice. She was actually OK from that. But then she developed some sort of vague neurological condition – she lost functioning of one of her back legs – and then, slowly, she started losing all kinds of other functions. She eventually totally lost it.

13 years. Not your average dog. Troublesome as she was, she is sorely missed.

---