Murray at his Finest

Murray Von Staunch was very brave and he would never, NEVER, give up until he was absolutely SURE the threat was completely annihilated.

Make sure all small dogs are out of the room before playing.

The Murray Song

Today is officially Murray's first Death Day.

Listen to the song that I (and Jesse Rimler from Kapowski) wrote about my dog, circa 2002.

And enjoy these photos:

The Chronicles of Super-Muddy

If you've ever wondered how I survived Public High School in California without losing all of my brain cells from utter boredom, well, Murray saved me. Repeatedly.

Murray vs. The Squirrel

In addition to Chicken Chasing, one of Murray's favourite activities in his youth was Squirrel Barking.

I personally found this adorable and encouraged him in his scholarly squirrel pursuits. I read somewhere that dogs need to feel like they have a purpose, a job to perform. Since we didn't have any tiny sheep for my tiny Sheltie to herd, I figured, why not let him think he was our Great Protector from the Ravenous Squirrely hordes?

The rest of my family, however, thought that his vigilance was obnoxious.

One afternoon, as Murray was persistently telling a squirrel loitering in our walnut tree to Get Out And Stay Out, my dad decided to help him out. He found a suitably sized rock and, with amazingly good aim, my dad knocked that squirrel out of the tree and right in front of Murray's schnoz.

For a full second Murray stared down his arch nemesis, frozen in uncertainty. The squirrel stared back, frozen in terror. Then...

Then nothing. The squirrel got its heart out of its throat and scampered across the yard and over the fence. Murray recovered a split second later and gave chase, yelling "Yea, you BETTER run!"

While Murray failed to taste squirrel blood that day, I can only assume that this particular squirrel never dared come back.

Murray "Millionaire" Von Staunch

One day, in 1994, my parents gave me and my sister a choice: a new dog or a trampoline. That Christmas we got a tiny sheltie-shaped ball of fur with an attitude. I wanted to name him Billie Joe (I was really into Green Day at the time), but my dad insisted on naming him Murray Von Staunch.

Shelties are very loyal dogs, usually to one person in particular. Murray quickly latched on to me. I brought him to school with me, even though it was against the rules. But no one minded - he had magical Cute Powers. He even acted alongside me in our highschool production of You Can't Take it With You and was featured in our yearbook.



I missed two years of his life when I moved to Southern California for college, but after that Murray moved with me everywhere: from San Diego, back to the Bay Area, to Los Angeles, and finally to Portland. He was always my right hand dog. I had planned to get a place with a yard for chickens, so that Murray could once again engage in his most favourite activity: Chicken chasing.

Murray may have been the smallest Sheltie ever, at 10lbs. I had planned to enter him into the Smallest Sheltie contest during Sheltie Daze. Murray and I had met a previous winner, while on a walk, and Murray was much smaller than her.



On a sunny day in the summer of 2009, Murray had a seizure. Worried, Boyfriend and I took him to the vet, who recommended a neurologist, who recommended a cardiologist, who told us that Murray had an incurable infection in his heart. He gave us antibiotics and painkillers to help extend Murray's life as long as we could.

I couldn't fool Murray into taking his pills (not even cheese or peanut butter worked). I couldn't force Murray to take his pills. Eventually I had to give up, because it had gotten to the point where Murray wouldn't even eat his food, convinced there were pills hiding inside his kibbles.

On Thursday September 10, 2009, Murray succumbed to heart failure. He was nearly 15 years old. It was the end of an era. He and I had been together since I was in the 7th grade. Sometimes I still expect to see him staring at me whenever I open a bag of chips.