Murray's Memoir

 AUTHORS NOTE:

        Written in 2019. This is a tear-jerker just FYI, at least it is to me and those of you who knew Murray. Murray was the first dog I remember in my life. I had one before him but I don't remember her that well. Murray was the best dog. He was a Westie and died before his 9th birthday, I think, from aggressive throat cancer. It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I wrote this about him.

Murray’s Memoir

Clancy Tresemer

         I pulled Murray into my lap, the bright yellow from my sweatshirt blinded my tired eyes. My father drove our old black Mercedes down a long winding road filled with trees and wildflowers. The sky was ecstatic blue and the colors around us were vibrant. It was time for a visit to the vet for Murray and Mazey. They had to get some shots and a check-up to see how they were doing. My father and I get out of the car and step onto the gravel parking lot. I grabbed the dog leashes from the front pocket in the passenger seat. I take the white, fluffy, West Highland Terrier with a long tail, out first and set him on the gravel, holding tightly to the leash. I clipped on the leash to the short, black-haired, miniature schnauzer, with the short tail. She launches out of the car faster, then I could turn to grab her and get tangled around my legs. I fix up the mess and close the car door. I walk around the front of the small, wild building, to a patch of grass for the dogs to relieve themselves. My father waited for me inside as he checked in the two companions at my feet. Both of us did not know what the vet would say. We walked in as some other dogs were checking out. I had to hold my dogs back because they were wanting to be too friendly. I was worried they might make the quiet white room very chaotic. We sat in the waiting room chairs, which are close to the door and the greeting desk. Bags of dog food and teeth cleaning treats sat on large shelves, taking up too much space. Two old wooden doors sat across from us that held a table and a squeaky metal chair behind them. The nurse called us a while later. She had us put the dogs on the table. Mazey was the black dog and was visibly nervous, she kept trying to get off the hard tile surface. Murray on the other hand was very calm and uplifting. My father and I knew that he was still nervous. The nurse continued the ritual check before the vet came in as my father and I waited, trying to keep the dogs calm. We sat in silence once the nurse left. Posters warning us of potential threats to our pet's health lined the walls of the tiny room, filling it with despairing colors. Looking at them would make me nauseous, so I directed my attention on petting the furry animals in front of me.The vet came in, giving me something else to look at. I was usually pretty bored during their appointments. The vet does a more thorough check on our companions as my father waited patiently to bring something to her attention. She had long brown hair and an aged face. Blue eyes scanned the ears, eyes, and tails of the dogs. She wore a white coat and blue latex gloves that pushed the fur out of the way. She smelled like a strong chemical that I couldn't name. I watched her finish her examination and looked up at my father when he spoke. He had asked her what the lumps all over Murray's body were and told her that they have gotten bigger over time. She told us that it could possibly be excess fat but would take him in the back to run some tests. With Mazey still leaning against me, I watched the vet gently pick up Murray with a glimpse of sadness in her eyes. She disappeared behind yet another wooden door straight across from the one we entered. I sat there nervously while my father sighed and sat in the squeaky metal chair. I gripped Mazey a little tighter, feeling almost calm but unsure at the same time. The vet brought Murray back in the room after almost twenty minutes and he had a white bandage wrapped around his leg. She rested him down on the table and pet his ears. The chemical smell was stronger now. Her eyes looked even sadder and pitiful than before. She communicated to my father that Murray had a case of lymphoma cancer in his lumps. She said that he had three months at most. The sound of her voice filtered out and became unheard to me. I just looked at Murray and petted him and Mazey. I didn’t know how to feel, if I felt anything, and wondered how bad it was. I looked up and the vet was gone. A wave of uncertain sadness came over me as I looked up to my father. His eyes were wet and his face looked like it was burning eternally. He cursed under his breath and looked at Murray silently. My face caught the contagious burning that started in my stomach and worked its way to my eyes slowly. A small drop hit my face and scorched a trail of fire down my cheek. The feeling of remorse and worry and fear and fate raced through my brain. My body was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to feel, it stopped trying in the end. We checked out with all of the medication that could help the pain. The car was loaded with pets and people. The whole ride home was quiet. The colors of the world were dull. Grey was the only thing seen. My phone rang and I saw it was my mother so I answered. I hadn’t been crying for a while and as soon as I started explaining to my mother what happened, the wave of all emotions hit me again and I lost it. I was crying so hard that I could barely talk. My mother started crying over the phone and then tried to calm me down. I started to blubber to a stop and thought about my life without Murray. I've had him since I could walk and haven't spent a day without seeing him. The day seemed to drag on slower than ever. The days after that were okay. Murray was acting like his old self. Then days became weeks, weeks become months and we could start to see this evil sickness slowly coming out of the darkness. We took him to the vet more often and nervously tried more and more treatment. Nothing seemed able to stop it, but the pain was numbed. The second month was the worst. His breathing became heavier and his, normally comfortable, positions were lost. We tried to comfort him with lots of love, but that wouldn’t stop it either. The saddest day of my life was when I saw my father lying on his office carpet floor with Murray wrapped up in his arms. His face was red, eyes closed but wet. Since my father was the one who raised Murray because I was too little, He had a different, stronger bond with the dog. Murray lay there with his back legs outstretched and his ears lay flat against his resting head. He stared back at me with pain in his eyes but a fierceness of bravery. Murray cared about all of us. Each member of my family had some type of loving bond to him. He was one of the strings that held us together. He was the third-string for me. I had a string for family, one for Mazey and one for Murray. Try as they might, the strings held together my recently broken heart of a split up with a very close friend. I feared if one string was cut, it would all fall apart. I thought that if I lost him, I would lose my childhood, my best friend, my dog, my support. I would fall through the earth as if gravity or the ground unclenched its grasp on me. When it was time to stop all the pain, keep the evil covering him with smoke from winning, we kept thinking it wasn’t the right time. 

It probably would never be the right time. Losing someone close to you that's still alive but suffering is hard to process. So its either let them go or continue to see them trying to fight the evil and lose. We visited the vet one last time. I carry Murray into the vet while my mother and father check him in. I was more scared than sad. I didn't know what was going to happen and was too afraid to ask. When we returned to the little tiny room, the room where the first check-up was, the first cone, the yearly shots, and it all came rushing back. I started crying silently before anything happened. Mazey was at home with no idea where we were or what we were doing. I felt bad for her because she would never understand why her brother never came home with us. I never took my hands off Murray through the examination, never looked up to see my parents trying to be strong, never stopped listening to his harbored breathing. The nurse gave him the first shot to relax him and calm him down. He lay there, on the cold surface, motionless and looked like he was paralyzed. His pink tongue spills out of his mouth as his eyes are wide with pupils small. He was very scared and confused. I lifted his leg and he already felt lifeless. I cried even harder, whispers from my parents and me, letting him know that we love him and everything will be fine. Even though he probably doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why he felt pain, why he wasn't with Mazey, why he was here paralyzed, why he couldn't feel or think. The nurse comes back with a large needle filled with a bright blue liquid. I move to where I'm resting my head on Murray's stomach. The nurse told us that he might give the last gasp before joining the light as a warning. I continue to cry hard as my parents start to do the same. I closed my eyes, since I was scared of needles, and listened to his heart beating. I was scared for him. Finally, it is done. I cried harder than I have ever cried in my life. The smell of the heart-stopping healing liquid hung in the air as we gave our last bit of love. I looked into his still open eyes and lifted his leg one more time. We got back into the car and drove back home. I sat staring out the window, the colors still dull but coming back to normal. I wasn't crying anymore but I was just staring. I think now that I felt that way because I was in shock of what had just happened. The long drive home seemed to be hours. Our life was hard after that. Adjusting to a big change and heartbreak. But we moved forward. Now, Murray lays resting on our fireplace to watch over us. My father hasn't been the same since. His mood is completely different and his actions reflect them. It could be more about other events but this one definitely took a toll. I still miss him and sometimes when I close my eyes, the same day races through my head. I hug Mazey close and cry silently. I sometimes think about the same thing happening to Mazey someday. I cry for about ten minutes before I wipe my face and fall asleep, hoping that nothing like this will come for a very long time.