The Life Of Murray

Joe and I got Murray when we first started dating from our close family friends, Kim & Sue. Kim was my dad’s childhood friend, and Sue was my mom’s. They are basically responsible for my birth since they introduced my parents. Kim & Sue also have a son named Pete. Pete married Nina, who is Joe’s sister. Well, Nina introduced Joe and I. So I guess you could say Kim & Sue are responsible for our marriage too. Murray came from a litter of puppies that Kim & Sue had. He was the firstborn. They gave him to us without asking anything in return except the hope that we would give him a good life.

Joe and I are proud to say we did just that. Murray came with us everywhere and quickly became the third member of our pack. He was always game for an adventure, whether in the mountains or when venturing further to a new beginning. Murray was there when I graduated from my master’s program in Reno, Nevada, when when we headed north to begin a new chapter in Oregon, and when we kept moving further away from where we started to Alaska. We slowly moved farther away from our families, but at least we all had each other.

Labeling Murray as a “dog” never felt quite right. He had more humanistic qualities than canine. Joe and I gave him a voice of his own that resembled a small child with a lisp. I still am not sure why we gave him a speech impediment? I guess we saw him as an innocent little guy who we never wanted to grow up. Through our voice, he would say things like, “Dad, can you get mom more coffee? We are too comfortable on the couch to get up.” He always did know what I needed from Joe. I’m still not sure if his voice was for his benefit or our own.

Murray also served as our mediator. He would run over and attempt to cuddle one of us with his tail between his legs if we raised our voices too high during a disagreement. Murray’s sensitivity to emotions made him capable of sensing when we needed a reminder of love and how we should speak to one another.

Murray reminded Joe and I how quickly life could slip away a few different times during his life. Once when we lived in Oregon, Murray jumped into a pool of water for a quick swim during a hike. We all didn’t realize he had jumped into a fast-moving subterranean irrigation canal headed straight through a mountain. The water was moving too fast for Murray to swim out of it. Before we could do anything to help him, he disappeared into the tunnel under the mountain.

 Joe decided to run up and over the mountain in hopes of seeing where Murray may end up. I ran in the opposite direction in search of a Ranger who could further direct us. The Ranger calmly listed the two possible outcomes of Murray’s situation. First, the water could be too high for Murray to have enough air space to make it out the other side. The second was that Murray might make it out of the tunnel; however, he would end up in the middle of nowhere and likely would not be able to find us. Neither of these possibilities sat well with me.

I ran to find Joe on the verge of a panic attack. At some point, I spotted him with Murray happily running behind him. Luckily, Murray was a great swimmer, and Joe is a fast runner. Joe somehow made it to the top of the mountain just in time to see Murray pop out of the underground canal. The three of us were back together again.

Murray had another close call shortly after we moved to Alaska. He wandered out into a busy road when attempting to follow Joe as he drove away. We had no idea where he had gone until we received a voicemail from a young girl who picked him up in her car. She didn’t know what to do with him, so she took him to the pound. When we got to Murray, he was in a holding tank where animals are dropped off and kept past business hours.

It was a Friday night, and the pound would be closed until Tuesday due to a long holiday weekend. There was no way we were going to leave that place without him. So we ran to Joe’s truck, gathered everything we could find that could potentially pick a lock, and rushed back to Murray’s cell. We were well aware that our attempts were being captured on camera. Somehow we popped the lock and got home safely with Murray in our custody again. We never did receive a call from the pound questioning our jailbreak.

Each time Murray gave us a scare, we held him a little closer and thanked our lucky stars that we were all still together. We knew Murray wouldn’t be with us forever, yet we never really believed that we would have to face living without him one day. He was too much a part of us to accept the inevitable truth that one day he wouldn’t be.

Death is a funny thing. None of us know when our time will come. The only thing that remains certain is death itself. Murray’s time came much sooner than we hoped. I am finding it is not useful to replay all of the things I could have done differently that morning to prevent it. I have run through all of those scenarios in my mind, but they’ve just left me with an unbearable heaviness that I know Murray would never want me to carry around. I am choosing to believe the timing of that morning- everything from letting him outside, to when he crossed the road, to that passing car- played out exactly as it should have. Life just decided it was Murray’s time to go.

I have been reading about death in an attempt to understand it more these past few days. In the book, The Untethered Soul, Michael Singler states how “death has made you a great promise in which you can find deep peace. The promise is that all things are temporal; they are all just passing through time and space. If you have patience, this too will pass.”

Singler also reminds the reader about the importance of allowing each moment of your time alive to fill you completely, no matter how joyous or tragic. These things are all a part of the human experience, and they, too, shall pass. He writes, “Let life touch you to the depths of your being. There is no moment that can’t do that. Even if something terrible happens, view it as just another experience of life”.

Death can also teach us about life. Losing Murray’s loving presence has been absolutely heartbreaking. But although we feel a profound loss from his absence, we also have gained a new understanding and appreciation for the chance to experience living another day. Because of him, we are more willing to experience life rather than allow it to pass us by. No one knows when their time will come. So it may be wise to live as though death is waiting because it is.

I am not able to convey with words how much Murray meant to us. We are just grateful that Sue and Kim brought us all together. I do not think any of it was by accident. We are fortunate that Murray was a part of our lives for 8-years. Without him, Joe and I would be very different people. We are so grateful we got to know and love a guy like him. Joe and I are better humans because of what his life and now death have taught us.

Murray knew something about life. He taught us to live and love big. He lived as though he knew this might be his last day on earth. Murray never asked anything from life except for the chance to experience it. He reminded us how capable someone is to give and receive love without a single once of expectation or judgment.

Murray’s death has also been a big lesson for Joe and I. As Singer says, “It is truly a great cosmic paradox that one of the best teachers in all of life turns out to be death. No person or situation could ever teach you as much as death has to teach you.” Murray’s death taught us that even though we try our absolute best to protect the ones we love, it is Life who inevitably gets to decide when each of us will depart this earth.

His departure solidified our understanding of how fast things can change. We are attempting to be more present with whatever is today, enjoy each experience rather than chase the ones we desire, and love each other more. As Singer says, “You really don’t need more time before death; what you need is more depth of experience during the time you’re given.”

Everything that brings our life meaning is somehow attached to this wonderfully giant yellow creature with fur. Wherever we would go, Murray would follow. Whether that be to the next room of the house, the couch, a ski run, or a mountain top, he was right there beside us. His presence is still a part of us and always will be. In that way, we will be able to keep a part of him with us forever.

• So what in your life today and each day truly matters?
• How can you be just a little more present during this experience of life?
• Whenever life feels challenging, let death be your teacher. Now, go hug the ones you love. That’s what Murray would have done.