Dogg Man,
My bad. I’ve been remiss in not updating you about Murphy. What can I say? Nothing’s changed and it’s all different now. A crazy dualism in search of resolve.
Murphy continues to be addressed with many names which may explain our difficulty in some basic training issues. I guess it’s hard to learn when you can’t tell if it’s you or someone else as the referent. Of course, Mads and you liked to call him ‘Bubbie’. For Sev, it was ‘Burf’. I’d grown fond of ‘Burphilda’. Lena just settled on ‘Murph’. So, it’s no wonder the basics of dog learning had gone awry. I think it’s deeper than that though. Murphy with any name is missing his main man. We’re all are missing our main man.
Murphy continues to fall in love with anyone who strays into his way. In public, the effects are controlled with a leash. In the house, it’s bedlam. Especially if someone is new to his nose. Look out. A short, compact, strong, muscled dog becomes a force of nature and no positional defense is possible.
The mornings start out slow. He’s a stoner. A pee, a loud, messy, long drink, and it’s off to his cage/bed or mini-couch. Murphy’s look is long, his eyes graceful. He rests waiting for you. We all do. He eventually wakes up, is alert, shows interest. We also wake up, are alert, and show interest. But it’s pretend. He wanders the hallway and back to the kitchen. We stay busy with errands: our hallway.
Somewhere in the day we have a Murphy moment. He seems to be watching for the moment, unpredictable in direction or object. We have a term for someone breaking into our space and taking something: burglarized. At home, it’s murphyized. In a blink: A shoe. A towel. A light cover. Gone. The chase for it back. We should learn to let it be. It’s just a thing. It can be replaced. It’s not important.
Otherwise, the days are long with these Murphy moments a contrast to the dull rhythm of the day.
Dogg Man and Murphy are now just us and Murphy. No Dogg Man.
We love you.
Dad Man