passing

I found out this morning that Murphy, a neighborhood dog, died over the weekend. Nobody knows for sure how old he was, but he one day selected a family a few doors down and became their dog. He was a big tall dog, with lots of black hair. He refused all efforts at being locked up.

Franklin liked Murphy a lot, and when we went for walks around the townlet, he used to often accompany us. As Murphy got older, his arthritus became more painful, and when I saw him last week, struggling to walk, I wandered if maybe he was reaching the end.

A sweet, tough dog who roamed our part of the townlet as if he owned it, and I'm sure in his dog sense of the world, he did.

Murphy, the Airedales - Fred and Penny, are all gone now, Franklin's old pack. His cats are gone, too. I am hoping he will make new friends in NY.

Farewell, sweet Murphy.