Leaving his mark
Even if Murphy leaves and becomes a guide, I will always have a physical memory of his time here.
About six weeks ago, I was trying to exercise him on a long line in a groggy, nasty bug-induced state. Whether it was my haste, my innate clumsiness or the doping qualities of Robitussin, I failed to note the long line wrapped around my bare ankle before hurling Murphy's frisbee -- his favorite thing in the world.
In a word, ow.
I ended up with a neat 1/4 inch deep raw imprint of his line, about 3/4 inch wide, around two-thirds of my ankle. Within days, despite immediate washing and medicine, the wound had swollen and I had angry streaks of red halfway up my calf and down to my instep. I knew where that line had been, and so I wound up at the doctor for her to confirm that, yes, the wound was infected, and yes, I needed antibiotics.
Suffice it to say that visuals were considered and rejected for this topic. Six weeks later, and the thing is finally healed, but I suspect scarred for life. Right now it looks like a pink ankle bracelet. Thank goodness it's getting chillier and I have less opportunity to flash a bare ankle. I got lots of surreptitious looks.
I was thinking about it now, because I was thinking about how this nearly a year with Murphy has changed me, probably in a lot of ways that I don't even yet understand. I stitched a saying for Nina's 20th anniversary party: "Dogs leave pawprints on our hearts." And it really is true.
Murphy turned 1 on Sept. 15, and it's only sinking in how he has started to mature almost overnight. He still has his puppy moments, and he still is displaying stress in some situations. But I can actually start to visualize him guiding some day. And, more importantly, I think I'm actually reaching the point where I'm focusing on him, on us, and less about how I think he ought to be doing, or how I think other pups are doing.
"He will be what he is supposed to be," Nina said.
Dogs and Zen. Who've have thunk that Zen could come with so much chaos?
About six weeks ago, I was trying to exercise him on a long line in a groggy, nasty bug-induced state. Whether it was my haste, my innate clumsiness or the doping qualities of Robitussin, I failed to note the long line wrapped around my bare ankle before hurling Murphy's frisbee -- his favorite thing in the world.
In a word, ow.
I ended up with a neat 1/4 inch deep raw imprint of his line, about 3/4 inch wide, around two-thirds of my ankle. Within days, despite immediate washing and medicine, the wound had swollen and I had angry streaks of red halfway up my calf and down to my instep. I knew where that line had been, and so I wound up at the doctor for her to confirm that, yes, the wound was infected, and yes, I needed antibiotics.
Suffice it to say that visuals were considered and rejected for this topic. Six weeks later, and the thing is finally healed, but I suspect scarred for life. Right now it looks like a pink ankle bracelet. Thank goodness it's getting chillier and I have less opportunity to flash a bare ankle. I got lots of surreptitious looks.
I was thinking about it now, because I was thinking about how this nearly a year with Murphy has changed me, probably in a lot of ways that I don't even yet understand. I stitched a saying for Nina's 20th anniversary party: "Dogs leave pawprints on our hearts." And it really is true.
Murphy turned 1 on Sept. 15, and it's only sinking in how he has started to mature almost overnight. He still has his puppy moments, and he still is displaying stress in some situations. But I can actually start to visualize him guiding some day. And, more importantly, I think I'm actually reaching the point where I'm focusing on him, on us, and less about how I think he ought to be doing, or how I think other pups are doing.
"He will be what he is supposed to be," Nina said.
Dogs and Zen. Who've have thunk that Zen could come with so much chaos?
posted by Angie at
11:26 AM
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