by Gabe Nydick
My cat, Murphy Brown, was born on January 18, 1995. I picked
her out because she was just the smallest, cutest and funniest
looking thing you've ever seen. She was the runt of the litter.
She did some pretty amazing and silly things, just like any baby
would do. She would get spooked so easily and somehow be
able to run around the walls of a room like it was a velodrome.
She could jump so high. She would sleep underneath one of
those pedistal fire places from the 60's.
Over the next couple of years, she grew up, but never got any
bigger than 6 pounds. She was always my "little skinny minny."
She was adorable. Tuxedo coloring with an off-center white
stripe running up between her eyes.
I moved from the midwest to Los Angeles and didn't have
anyone other than her in my life. She was my riding companion
on the drive. I can remember watching her get so frustrated with
the moving truck's stiff suspension, her little head bouncing
around as she'd try to sleep on her blanket behind the
passenger seat. Every night on the trip, she'd get up at about
10pm and sit on my lap for a little while, then put her paws on
the window sill and start crying. I knew it was time to pull over
and find a hotel. One night, we stopped in the AZ desert. It was
such a beautiful night. We pulled off into the desert and got out.
I had her on her harness and leash. I just watched her play
around with the plants and probably little critters I couldn't see.
At one point, she stopped playing and just tried walking back
east to where we came from. She wanted to turn around and go
back, and so did I. I was scared to move on to Los Angeles. I
also felt like I was running away from a relationship that ended
but never really had closure. I just held her and said, "I want to
go back too" and cried a little. That is the first time I can
remember sharing an emotional moment with her.
Well since then there have been other times we've shared and
she's always been there for me. The last moment we had, was
Thursday, April 4, 2002. She had been suffering from a kidney
infection that was just brutal and it was time to stop her
suffering. In her life there have been a couple of other important
people. My girlfriend in IN, Stephanie, and my girlfriend in
Sunnyvale, Julie. I pulled Murphy close and told her that
Stephanie loved her and would miss her very much and that
Julie loved her and would miss her very much. The vet then
ended her suffering.
Now I think about her every night. I still tell her good night
before I go to sleep, but she's not there curling up under my chin
anymore. I miss her so much.
Murphy, I love you.