This story is about Murphy, a smart, playful, crazy Maltese/Poodle mix (as far as I know). But I can’t tell her story without telling a little about Tina, her predecessor first.
Tina was under my care for six months before the man whose friend had found her on the street gave her to me for good. She came to work with me each day, and greeted everyone who walked through our door with cheerful puppy kisses. She was a Maltese/Poodle mix, too. When the man announced that she was now officially my dog, I was ecstatic.
Of course I had already grown attached (as had everyone else in the office and my neighborhood ... and their dogs), but up until that point I was preparing myself to give her back to the man who hadn’t been able to care for her due to apartment rules, financial straits and a general lack of interest because she didn’t fit his lifestyle. Immediately after hearing the good news, I was so relieved! Of course I had been footing the bills for all of her food, care and toys anyway, but now that she was really mine, I got her spayed and microchipped, bought her a tag with my phone number on it, took her to agility training classes ... and all of the other things a good puppy-mama does. I would never have done any of this until and unless the man who put her in my care unequivocally told me that she was absolutely my dog forever more, and as soon as he did, I went to work! Tina lived happily with me for eight months before the unbelievable happened.
It goes without saying that I was devastated when this man who had been my good friend of more than 15 years came into my office, said hello to the folks in front, picked up my Tina, ran down the street, hurried into his car and drove away. I called the police and gave them a report. I sent out a desperate e-mail to a huge group of animal lovers and activists. I notified AVID, the microchip company with which she was registered. I placed an ad in the paper for a few months. I spoke to attorneys and other police departments, and city officials. I tried to reason with the guy who took her. I even attempted a rescue on my own, videotaping the whole thing. But so far, this has been to no avail. My heart was broken to be away from my wonderful Tina.
Under the law, a dog is property - like a bike or a purse. But I submit that if Tina were actually a bike or a purse, the authorities would have been more helpful in getting her back. As it stands, all of the reciepts, official documents and ownership papers have proven useless. My only recourse is to get an attorney and take the man to civil court. Who can afford an attorney? What attorney would take a case about a dog?
Although I still hope to get her back someday and I haven’t given up the fight just yet, I did search for another fuzzy friend to fill the void, and be Tina’s playmate when she finally comes home. I scoured the PetFinders.com Web site for a pooch of similar age and breed, in hopes that my adoptee would have the same amount of wonderful disposition and smarts. It seemed that as soon as I found one and filled out the very thorough and lengthy applications, my choice would be adopted by someone who beat me to it.
Then I found “Kendell,” an adorable seven-month-old maltipoo who had been adopted in December and then brought back for a second round because “she needs to be with people who have children.” I think the previous adopter wasn’t quite prepared for a puppy with so much energy. But I knew what I was getting into. I filled out the application online and kept in touch with the employees at the shelter, assuring them that I was this puppy’s new mom, until I drove out to the Ramona Shelter near Hemet to pick her up.
Since “Kendell” came into my life in February, her name changed (immediately) to “Murphy.” Yes, Murphy, like Murphy Brown. Many people have asked me why I gave her a “boy name,” but I challenge them to come up with anyone whose first name is Murphy other than Murphy Brown! Oh well. Why do dogs need their genders to be evident in their names? What gender is “Oreo?” What about “Lucky?” Or “Spot?” Or “Pumpkin?” or “Lavi?” (I recently met a boy dog named Lavi, which his owner said means little lion in Hebrew.) I think Lavi could be a girl name. So there. But I digress.
Murphy now comes to work with me everyday and delights (for the most part) visitors and co-workers. Her best pals at home are a
95-pound yellow Labrador, a three-pound Chihuahua, a scruffy, handsome terrier-type, a crazed Jack Russell terrier and a delightfully friendly boxer mix. She also enjoys attempting to befriend the most mellow cat I have ever met, whose door she runs to as soon as we walk through the gate.
Her toybox is overflowing with exciting squeaky delights, ropes, balls and other treasures. Although I have no children, I imagine she is a little bit like a toddler. I put her toys away, and she immediately drags them back out. Also without fail, any time I am on the phone and there is one handy, she finds a squeaky toy and squeaks up a storm! I need to teach her that it isn’t necessary to bark at everything and everyone that passes our front door. In the car, she barks at motorcycles and other dogs. I bet she thinks motorcycles ARE other dogs ... really big dogs. She is a good girl. She is my joy.
She and I take weekly trips to the Huntington Beach dog beach, and she makes friends with every single dog who can keep up with her. I squeak a toy and she comes to me (and so do all the other dogs). I throw the tennis ball, and the rest of the world disappears. Nothing is as important or as fun as the ball! My little Murphy ... spoiled rotten princess that she is ... will tempt fate as she taunts the oncoming waves and dares them to get her before she retrieves her precious ball from the wet sand in their path. She will follow me into deep (to her) water if I have the ball in my hand. She absolutely LIVES for the beach ... and her dog friends in our neighborhood ... and the people in the office who love her ... and visitors who are happily surprised that she is here ... and anything that squeaks.
I can’t believe how much I love this dog after such a short time of knowing her. She is crazy and loving and hilarious and adorable. Just look at the pictures! ... But if you want one like her, please go to a shelter or check out PetFinders. This one is MINE!
Leslie Belfor — Murphy’s mom and the author of this rescue story — is the publisher of the Culver City News.
