Ok, that was lame. Murdok had a stroke (we think) and was only moving his head for a few days - didn't get up to eat or go to the bathroom or anything. So the decision was made to have him put to sleep. It really was the right thing to do, but man was it hard. I knew it would be, but it was harder than I expected. Eric went with me. Murdy (as Dash calls him) was almost 10 years old and really engrained himself into my family - as any good pet will. He's been in family Christmas photos, was my roomate for 6 years, retired up to Mt Bryinion with my parents when Leah got pregnant and made himself a fixture up on the hill. Needless to say, I miss him. I was petting his head as they gave him his shot, and crying about as uncontrollably as I get. Eric cried too. Anyone who has ever had to do that knows it's really sad. Almost unreal. He looked good and was soft, and I imagine that if I dug him back up, he'd still be soft. I love that dog and I may not get another one for a very, very long time. Eric did a nice job memorializing him on his blog and you should check it out.
I currently have a letter to the Pope requesting Murdok be considered for Saint-hood. From what I hear, to be a saint you have to perform 3 miracles. Murd is well beyond 3. First off, being born all white makes him very likely to be born deaf or blind or both. He was healthy and the largest of the litter. Second, he warmed the heart of my mom - to the point of sharing a bed (not in the Biblical sense) with her. This has never been done before. Mom has a history of sending all the dogs we've ever gotten (as kids) to the Pound. Yes, that's a miracle. Thirdly, I completely ran over him with my back tire going 30mph down MtBrynion and he ran off with only a few little cuts. Later I would learn that he tore his ACL in his back left leg, but still, I ran over him! Fourthly, he was about to turn 10 years old. There's no way a white Boxer should live that long. I give you: St. Murdok of Brynion!
I have a lot of stories about the dogs, but I'll only share one. Whenever Murdok slept with me, he wouldn't settle in until his head was on some part of me. My arm, leg, torso, face, whatever. Snuggler. Dash has been telling people Murdok died ever since I told him. My boys miss him, and so do I. The dog who talked like Homestar, was my ace-in-the-hole, my captain of the team and had the heart of a champion, will not be replaced. Buster is doing ok, thanks for asking.
Christmas with two boys who love guns and Legos will always be fun. Both boys are spoiled and get many gifts. But when people ask Dash what he got for Christmas, his most common response is "orange Tick-Tacks". To say he loves them would understate how quickly he dispatched an oversized Tick-Tack Pack.
I'm very blessed to have the family I have. Experience has taught me that a family who is flawed, but will tell you truth and act on it (instead of hoping for the best), is perfect. I love them.
Why do people say "horsesh*t"? Like a horse's poo is so foul?
And one more time, just for fun, Magnum, Rick and Higgins.