The Price of Love

 My most expensive pet is Murphy.

So, I am a snob. I will admit it. I used to be that person who would NEVER get a purebred dog and most definitely would never buy from a breeder, and as a pretentious sixteen-year-old even went so far as to look down my large nose at people who did buy from breeders.

And yet I wanted a purebred German shepherd but I would only consider getting one as a rescue. And that all worked out with Tess, right down to the age (a year old), sex (female) and her breeding (impeccable with no genetic issues like hip dysplasia and I had the papers to prove it). I actually had nothing against purebreds. Just breeders. Which is idiotic when you think about it because someone got the dog from a breeder, dumped her at the animal shelter where I later acquired her. I mean, talk about a hypocrite.

I can admit my shortcomings and negative personality traits. I don't have a lot of admirable qualities to begin with.

Lightning struck twice for me and I acquired Joy, also a purebred shepherd, also a rescue, but she did come from a backyard breeder and ended up with a friend who handed her over to me, knowing that I love shepherds. I don't have her papers, but I'm hoping her straight back and easy gait means that she too will avoid the hip dysplasia issue.

So I was able to keep my pretentious attitude and still get my purebred German shepherds. To be honest I let go of that snotty attitude years ago. I got over myself pretty fast when I realized how people acquire their pets is none of my business. I just was lucky enough to find what I wanted in rescues.

I no longer look down on people who buy from breeders. I have joined their ranks. All I care about anymore is if people take care of their pets and don't unleash them on me and my dogs. 

I have two papillons that I did buy from a breeder. "The Gremlins," I call them. They are a special circumstance because 1.) I never thought I'd ever have a chance to own papillons. They are not a common breed, puppies are hard to come by, and they are very expensive, and 2.) my best friend just happen to work with someone who does breed them and is also a reputable breeder who breeds a championship line with very few health issues. So not a puppy mill, not a backyard breeder, and definitely not cranking out puppies for profit. She breeds one female a year once a year and usually only has two puppies.

I'm a greedy asshole and ended up just buying the whole litter when they were born. Well, in my defense I only wanted the female, but the abusive alcoholic I lived with at the time insisted that we just get both because it would be sad to buy one and leave the other one to languish like he wouldn't be snapped up immediately. 

This was Murphy. Technically he belonged to my ex. My ex initially wanted him, paid for him, and named him, but I ended up paying all the vet bills, the AKC registration fee, and all his food and toys. I also did the bulk of the animal care like feeding and walking them because he was usually passed out in the mornings after the previous day's drinking and then drunk by the evening, so these animals never would have eaten if I didn't handle it. I mean I don't mind taking care of my animals, that's what they are there for.

But I digress.

All he did with the animals was throw the big dogs outside all day and ignore them, then drive around town (drunk mind you) all day with the gremlins showing them off and probably picking up chicks. Then he'd come home and complain about all the attention he kept getting when he was out and about with them.

I wonder sometimes if he didn't get Murphy to use against me, an ace up his sleeve so to speak. He was never into little fluffy dogs like papillons. He liked muscle meathead dogs like Bulldogs and Rottweilers. He didn't even know what a papillon was until I showed him a picture.

When it came to actual discipline, he wasn't nice. Murphy peed on the bed once and the ex scruffed him so hard he yelped and cried. Then he took him outside and beat him. He was maybe four months old. Way too young to be completely housetrained. When Murphy was three months old, he was running around the park happily and didn't perform recall as quickly as the ex wanted (we hadn't exactly had them in obedience class), so the ex scruffed him hard and shook him, and I swear they could hear him yelping and screaming a block away.

Murphy almost fell out of the truck once when we were driving. The ex had the driver's side window rolled all the way down and Murphy was hanging halfway out. Luckily he wore a harness so when he almost bounced out, we were able to grab his harness and pull him back in. I was upset. He told me to calm the fuck down and he did it all the time with Colleen too when I wasn't with him.

When Murphy got his rabies shot, he had such a bad reaction to it that he whined and cried all night, keeping me up, and the ex got so furious with me for "babying" Murphy that he stomped upstairs to the guest room with him and wouldn't let me see him or comfort him. He was always calling Murphy a puss or a wimpy little dog.

Murphy got into the ex's weed stash once. He always left his bowl with the leftover resin on the floor of the guest room, and Murphy got up there once and ate part of the resin. He was so looped out and sick for the rest of the night, I almost called emergency vet, but the ex wouldn't let me. He didn't even feel that bad about it, just laughed and said Murphy learned his lesson.

I'm here to tell you, Murphy did not learn his lesson. He's a year old and I still fish stuff out of his mouth that he shouldn't have. I just watch him better.

When I finally got up the nerve to leave, I loaded all the animals in my car one morning while he was passed out and took them to a friend's house where I stayed for a week while I let the police and the court system sort it out. He tried to get Murphy back (he didn't care about Kira). At that point everything was in my name, he had said several times that "Murphy is yours anyway because you'll have to take care of him when I'm gone" (yes, constant suicide threats), and I had given him four thousand dollars to start a business, money I was pretty sure I'd never see again. 

In other words, I paid for that puppy, not just monetarily, but in blood, sweat, and tears.

I was in a constant state of anxiety of what would happen to this little dog if I didn't take him out of that environment. I was concerned for the other dogs too (the only dog he never beat was Colleen, and that was probably because she weighed all of two pounds and would break if you looked at her cross-eyed), but he didn't care about them. Murphy was his chick magnet.

I get accused of Murphy being my "favorite," but I think I'm just the most protective of him because of how bad it could have gone for him. He'd be dead by now. Either he'd have fallen out of a moving truck window and broken his leg or worse, his neck.  Or when the ex got angry enough, he'd have beaten the little guy hard enough to really hurt him. Murphy would have gone from a happy, fun-loving cutie, to a cowering, timid mess. He might have even turned aggressive. 

Or one night I have no doubt we would have all ended up on the business end of that loaded pistol the ex kept in the house.

Murphy is the dog most attached to me. When we first got the gremlins, the ex would pass out drunk by seven o'clock, leaving me to care for the dogs, and the gremlins would snuggle on the couch with me and then sleep on the bed. Murphy was always tucked next to me by the next morning. I don't know if he thought of me as his protector, or if it's just because I was the nicer one. Joy was already attached to me, as I raised her from a puppy, and Kira isn't bonded to anyone. She just wants a warm bed and a bowl full of food and the occasional ear scratch. Colleen was mine from the moment the breeder handed her to me. But Murphy took months to decide who he would attach to, and even though he spent every day with the ex, I'm the one he glued himself to. And once he decided that, we were bonded.

Maybe he thought he was protecting me.

It's funny. This little dog who cost me an arm and a leg and possibly a piece of my soul has become my reason for getting out of bed in the morning. I love all my animals but Murphy's antics can put a smile on my face when I've been in tears for two hours. I guess every disaster has a silver lining, and mine is Murphy.

This face is just too much.