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WHAT THE WALRUS SAID--Our Authors' Blog--





A good friend e-mailed us—


"Murdock went peacefully on his bed at home yesterday."


We know that heaviness.


You dread summoning the vet, with her vials and needles. You hold that furry body—once so warm—as it goes limp.


You wanted to stop the suffering, but now there's guilt—"I killed my dog!" You're lonely. Your companion is gone. You feel hollow inside. Silently, you mourn.


A dog is a consciousness, like us, only with a better nose. How did these creatures—progeny of wolves—become so entwined in our hearts and homes?


Maybe it's simple: your dog worships you. It's not coy about it. It'll happily lick your fingers. Dogs like fun: let's chase that ball! Tell your dog your fears or worries. Those ears will listen.


What better friend than that?


Yet, we've seen dogs wandering streets from Cairo to Newark, homeless, hungry.


Maybe dogs evolved to test us. Maybe how we treat them measures our humanity.


Our friend's West Highland Terrier died of leukemia, after a glorious life—Murdock knew the bliss of being a player on the A-team, beloved.


Lucky dog.

Lucky friend of dog.


--Joyce and Richard


But here's Eric Morse with the last word about his best friend, Murdock—


"He had an amazing life of running, covering over 25,000 miles with me, more than the circumference of the Earth. We teamed together in over 200 races in 9 different states.


"He continued to run every day with me up until the final weeks. I'm convinced his fitness and continued running extended his life.


"I'd like to thank each and every one of you for the thoughtful remarks and reactions to Murdock's passing. They all brought tears to my eyes, knowing so many people cared.


"Farewell our friends. It was the best times."



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