The lovely and talented Ms. Bloggins and myself have had a bit of a rough week. Last friday we had to help our elderly golden retriever out of his pain and into the next world. He was about 13 and was having a lot of trouble standing up, walking, and had lost his appetite almost completely. We watched over the last year or so as his energy and vitality faded. I don't mind telling you it's left a big empty in the Fortress of Solitude and in our hearts. Murphy was without question the finest dog I have ever had the pleasure to know. All the usual stuff, of course; back in the day he ran trails while I rode, licked the knees of unsuspecting foreign dignitaries, listened when someone needed an ear, licked your face when you needed bucking up, ate stuff he wasn't supposed to and shed like mad. It's too hard to sum up my feelings about this dog in a way that does justice to him. If you've ever had a really good dog in your life you know what I mean. I feel grateful for the lessons of love, kindness, and patience I learned from him and I am truly honored to have been his custodian on this earth. Vaya con dios, old pal. You'll always be my dog. I'm getting all verklempt...
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