Although he was a member of our family for only a month, the loss of a new friend pulses as raw as the loss of an old one.
My mom formally adopted Murphy just one month ago. In his new Sacramento home, he spent the first week cloistered under the bed in the guest room. I remember crouching on my hands and knees, head pressed against the carpet, coaxing Murphy out into the open. Over time though, it was my mother's affections and gentle voice that conquered Murphy's agoraphobia.
It was here, once Murphy regained his personality, that sweetness and charm bloomed. Like a gregarious puppy, Murphy asked his new family members for belly rubs. He would stretch out, arching his back, emulating the crescent moon. We would stroke his underside white fur, and Murphy would thank us with purring as consistent as heartbeats. And though animals seem more adorable to their owners' egos, I swear Murphy's heart-shaped nose was no mirage of my adoration.
Pets bind to our souls. They honor and cherish the mundane naps and impromptu walks. They depend on us, not as slaves, but as friends who trust unconditionally. Our rage, our tears, our weakness are neither judged nor exploited; they love us simply, without pride.
As the vet pushed the cocktail of euthanasia, I dreamed of all the possible futures, and none of them ended quite like this.
To the skies...
My mom formally adopted Murphy just one month ago. In his new Sacramento home, he spent the first week cloistered under the bed in the guest room. I remember crouching on my hands and knees, head pressed against the carpet, coaxing Murphy out into the open. Over time though, it was my mother's affections and gentle voice that conquered Murphy's agoraphobia.
It was here, once Murphy regained his personality, that sweetness and charm bloomed. Like a gregarious puppy, Murphy asked his new family members for belly rubs. He would stretch out, arching his back, emulating the crescent moon. We would stroke his underside white fur, and Murphy would thank us with purring as consistent as heartbeats. And though animals seem more adorable to their owners' egos, I swear Murphy's heart-shaped nose was no mirage of my adoration.
Pets bind to our souls. They honor and cherish the mundane naps and impromptu walks. They depend on us, not as slaves, but as friends who trust unconditionally. Our rage, our tears, our weakness are neither judged nor exploited; they love us simply, without pride.
As the vet pushed the cocktail of euthanasia, I dreamed of all the possible futures, and none of them ended quite like this.
To the skies...
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