Murphy: the Story of a Survivor.

He's gained more than ten pounds. His eyes are alert and clear. He walks with a firm step and a bounce in his tread. His coat is a curly cream and grey. His feet are huge and his front legs are bowed. He squints. He's nearly blind. He's clumsy. His bark is rough and hoarse. He's gentle as a lamb. He's beautiful!

His name is Murphy and he's twelve years old. He was born in Kamloops, BC, moved to Whitehorse, YT, and now resides in great comfort in Vancouver. He is a survivor. Murphy owes his very life both to his own personal grittiness and to Pascale Black of AireCanada. Tied outside in the harsh Yukon weather for a year, dirty, cold and blinded by the bright light, virtually friendless, deprived of playthings and comfortable surroundings, this old boy hung on until someone noticed his plight.

Murphy's circumstances came to Pascale's attention when he was booked with her for a grooming. She learned that he was living in the care of someone other than his owner. When the dog was brought to Pascale, she discovered that Murphy was very thin, filthy and covered with small tumors which later proved to be warts. Upon inquiry, she was told that Murphy was kept tied outside because he tended to mark in the house. Concerned about his physical state, she urged that Murphy be taken to the vet for a checkup. She offered advice regarding Murphy's care and provided products to discourage the marking. Still bothered by poor Murphy's condition, Pascale took the trouble to investigate his circumstances a little further. There was more to the story, it seemed. She discovered that Murphy was marking in the house because his dog door had been sealed, thus limiting his access to the outdoors. The owner apparently was considering having Murphy put down because he was barking a great deal and bylaw enforcement officials were threatening legal action. Moreover, the care givers suggested Murphy was old and failing; he was eating very little and sleeping a great deal.

After a substantial amount of negotiation with Murphy's owner, Pascale was able to obtain this senior Airedale to rehome. Then, she discovered to her horror that no one wanted such an old boy. She advertised to no avail. Finally, as she was unable to keep him herself and was growing desperate, Jim and I who are also AireCanada volunteers and had been following Murphy's story, somewhat hesitantly, said we would take him. Our reluctance arose from the fact we had just recently sent a much beloved, elderly Chow over the bridge. We weren't certain we could deal with the potential for age-related illness and death in one of our dogs again so soon but Murphy needed someone to care for him.

Pascale was pleased that Murphy now had a home. She brought him into her house, scrubbed him until he shone, groomed his poor, thin little body, and fed him tasty, nutritious food. She started him on glucosamine to help his arthritic hind legs and bought him a harness so he would be safe in her vehicle. Murphy entered our lives at a campground near Prince George, BC. Pascale pointed to her truck and announced, "There's your dog"!

Out scrambled a tottery old fellow, looking dazed and frail. He wobbled over to us on long, emaciated legs that could barely hold him upright and he peered blindly up. We coaxed him into our camper and offered food, treats, a warm bed, and hugs. The food and treats were tentatively accepted; the warm bed was welcomed; he wasn't at all sure about the hugs. Our other Airedale, Angie, snuffled in his ear and licked his face. He dropped off to sleep on his new soft cushion with a tiny smile on his face. Next day, after Pascale and her family left to continue their holiday, we raced off to the store. Cottage cheese, we decided, might help put some weight on our poor little canine skeleton. Vitamins. A nice collar,toys,a better leash,and then we packed him up with his new sisters, Angie the Airedale and Pifflesqueak the Toy Poodle, and went camping. He loved the trip. Despite torrential rains, snow, strong winds and all kinds of other adversity, Murphy sat in our truck, transfixed by the passing landscape. He loved the wilderness campsites; he loved playing with Angie, even though she knocked him down once or twice; he loved going for long walks through the forest. He had a wonderful time!

Finally, we took him to his new home near Vancouver. He wobbled up and down the deck stairs to the yard so many times that first evening he nearly collapsed from exhaustion. He found that he could sleep outside in the fresh air because someone would always let him in. Like any normal dog, he grumbled at the mailman and the paperboy. He went for longer walks and he started to hold his own with Angie. He ate everything that was set in front of him and demanded more . . . and he got stronger.

At this point, a family crisis required our presence on Vancouver Island. We settled temporarily into my father's home. Murphy was thrilled,a bigger yard with lovely flower beds to be ìcultivated, shrubbery to uproot and bulbs to unearth. He taught Angie to dig. He showed her how to dump the garbage pail and to search for yummy bits. He developed a symbiotic relationship with my wheel chair confined father. I would create gourmet meals to tempt dad; dad would feed them surreptitiously to Murphy.

A trip to the veterinarian resulted in the removal of several infected teeth and a quantity of bleeding warts. With his lovely coat all patched and darned, Murphy came back to us a healthier old fellow . . . and he grew even stronger. As his health improved, Murphy started to exhibit typical Airedale inventiveness and humor. He began to cavort, outsized feet paddling in the air. He started pouncing on the stuffed animals which he then would shake tentatively. He kidnapped Angie's annoying talking parrot and finished it off by cocking a leg over the offensive toy. He discovered that flinging his empty water bucket down the stairs resulted in a speedy refill. He terrorized a real cat that wandered into the household compost box and stalked the ornamental cat on the living room hearth. He attacked the mail savagely as it fell through the slot onto his head. Once, thinking her leash was his, he inadvertently took the attached Toy Poodle for a walk. On Halloween, he accidentally wrapped himself, mummy-like, in our bedding and scared us half to death.

Murphy's got enough self-confidence these days to enjoy a doggy houseparty with seven Airedales and other canine pals south of the border where he was spoiled with treats and attention from both the uprights and the furs. He no longer curls his lip at bits of broccoli or raw carrot he finds in his dinner. And he tolerates no nonsense from his sisters, whether it be defending his food or claiming his bed. Finally, having become a more solid animal, with muscles starting to develop, Murphy is beginning to look like a winner.

He patrols the yard and sits up smartly in Jim's truck, cheerfully telling all who care to listen what a fine fellow he has become. He doesn't mark in the house, either!

The evening that Murphy objected strongly to a friend's dog sitting on my husband's lap is when we knew this fine old fellow was really ours forever. We feel honoured to be counted among his friends. These days, Murphy pays visits with us. We go to the homes of those that think they would like to adopt a rescued Airedale. Unfailingly, he charms everyone. Not bad for a senior gent that no one wanted and who was in great danger of crossing the bridge before his time, but, then, Murphy is clearly a survivor!

Author's note: No one, it seems, is interested in adopting an older rescued Airedale. Murphy is a perfect example of how much a senior dog can still offer to a new home. If you'd like to read more about Murphy, you can visit him on the following web sites:

http://www.airedaleterriers.org/articles/murphy.html

http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/1364/paradescott1a.html