On October 18 2009, my dog Murphy died.  Living practically my entire life with him until then made it a very traumatic event to lose him.  As a way of dealing with the grief, I wrote this eulogy.  But the ideas contained within speak to all animal lovers who have lost a companion in years’ past.  Since my blog was not set up at the time, I originally posted this as a Facebook note.  With RileyStrong.com up & running, I thought I would share it here as well. —Riley

Goodbye, Old Friend: Tuesday, 20 October 2009

Today, a spot at the family dinner table is empty. Though he didn’t have a chair or a plate ever set for him, Murphy the dachshund was just as much a part of a family dinner as my siblings, parents, or me. Faced with little chance of recovery from a spinal injury, Murphy fell asleep for the last time on Sunday, 18 October 2009. He was 15.

Only fragments of the memory remain, but I can still remember when I first met Murphy. I was just 5 years old, and the family was at a distant farm on a frigid November morning. Among a whole batch of puppies we chose him. There’s no way to describe why we picked him over the rest — he just connected with us. And despite all the attention he received that day, the night was filled with whimpers and yelps of loneliness and fear. Unable to let his cries go unanswered, I comforted Murphy till the morning came. I had opened my heart to him, and he took no time in doing the same. As he grew up, there was no quelling his excitement when someone came into our home, regardless if it was me for the thousandth time or someone he had never met. I remember he would pee on the carpet by the front door while trying to put big slobbery kisses on everyone’s face.

He seemed more human than dog much of the time. With an independent mind, he refused to play fetch, sunbathed by the windows (hence the pale-white face), and loved people much more than other dogs. He even had a basic understanding of English. He knew the words “car-ride,” “walk,” “food-time,” and even “cheese” (his favorite kind of food) until his hearing faded. He was more than just a dog to us: he was a member of the family. But I wasn’t the only one he begged for cheese, slobbered on, or loved. For those of you who knew him, please share anything you remember about him so we can preserve his memory.

I don’t mean to seek pity in writing this; it’s not my intention to gather a pile of condolences from friends. I wish only to commemorate the life of a dear companion and celebrate the unconditional love we shared. Because in this complex and tangled world, rarely is love more generous, more unqualified, more pure than the love between a boy and his dog. Goodbye, Murphy. You will be missed.