It was early spring in the little Saskatchewan city that we called home.  Through a series of neighbors we heard of the plight of Mu'y. His name sounded a bit odd.  An attempt to pronounce it would be MUH space/pause EEE.  The lady who was seeking a home for him had a heavy Scotish accent and we translated his name to actually be Mutty and that is the moniker that stuck with him as long as he lived.  Several years later we discovered it was actually Murray.  He didnt seem to mind the new version.

He was mostly Corgy but definately had some other heritage that was only discernable because he was considerably larger than a Corgy.  Otherwise he was very typical as far as markings and those big sad eyes.  The lady who was trying to find a placement for him was concerned about his welfare.  He belonged to a young person who lived in her basement suite.  His owner neglected him most of the time.  Mu'y spent most of his life chained in a backyard near to a school.

He was rather voiciferous about his situation and would bark viciously at the school children who passed by.  They in turn would taunt him and throw sticks or stones at him.  His life was anything but what the life of a dog should be.  His landlady frequently fed him but she worried that he might get loose and harm a child or that some of the children might harm him.

Mu'y came to live with us.  The day we went to get him he struggled and absolutely refused to get into the car.  He would not walk on a leash.  He simply laid down on the sidewalk and refused to move.  It was only about 4 blocks to our home so I picked him up, all 40 some pounds of him, and carried him to his new home.  He was definately not pleased.  He didnt bark or growl.  He just scurried about the house until he found safety under a bed.  Our three little girls were delighted with him but a little miffed that he was obviously not delighted with them.

For several days whenever he went outside to relieve himself he would manage a mad dash and head back to the place of his abuse.  I would get to carry him back home.  After a couple of days he decided he would eat as long as my wife would feed him.  He was having no part of anyone else giving him his meal.  He would happily eat leftovers but he had an aversion to peas.  He would leave them neatly stacked and licked clean beside his plate.  In time he decided it was a good thing to ride in the car would be most upset if we should leave without him.  Many of our little sojourns included a trip to my wifes' grandmothers home across town.  We would often spend the day with Gramma helping in her garden, canning, grocery trips or just a good visit.  Gramma liked Mu'y and was always insulted when Mu'y would refuse to eat food that she put out for him.  It became a custom for Gramma to put a gourmet doggy dish out to temp him.  He would just look at it, look at her, drool and stand there with his best forelorn look.  My wife would pick up the dish, immediately set it down and Mu'y would consume with a wagging gusto.  Gramma was insulted.

Mu'y eventually accepted us.  He loved to cuddle infront of a fire or while we watched tv.  He became very affectionate and was an excellent companion to the girls.  He was very bold about anyone coming into our home.  He would bark fiercly, hackles raised and ready to defend.  That is until the door opened.  Then he would dash rapidly to his under-bed safety spot and we wouldnt hear from him until the company left.

My 15 year old brother-in-law grew to be a friend to Mu'y.  Once Mu'y decided that he was ok they would romp and play as any boy and dog would do.  The soon became fast friends.  When winter approached the teenage boy came to the house in his winter coat.  The fashion at the time was a navy canvass type of parka with interlocking buttons and large fur trimmed hood.  Mu'y would not allow him into the house.  Finally we realized that the children who had made him miserable wore those jackets.  The brother-in-law had to take off his coat outside, turn it inside out and then carry it into the house before Mu'y would accept him.

He was winsome in his own ways and we grew to love him dearly.  We were devastated one spring day when he managed to make a dash out of the yard unto the street.  He was struck by a passing car and suffered a broken pelvic bone.  We rushed him to the veternary clinic where he recieved a truss that wrapped around each leg and over his back.  It basically held the injury in place so that it could heal.  Watching him try to lift his leg to urinate was torturous.  He would whine and groan and painfully lift to relieve himself.

Walking in the truss was not to much of an issue but climbing stairs couldnt be managed.  When it was time for bed I would pick him up and carry him up the stairs.  He would contentedly settle down under our antique bed and sleep for the night.  That antique bed was high off the floor with a dust skirt around it.  It made a very secure place for him and it became his refuge.  The top of the bed was almost as high as my waist so with the truss he was no longer able to leap up on the bed in a surprise attack of cuddlieness (or thunder fear).

Eventually his injury healed and his truss was removed.  He returned to all his normal activities except for climbing stairs.  If he wanted to traverse the staircase he would stand at it and whine mornfully until he was carried up.  He had trained me to answer to his needs.  Several months went by and this behavior became an accepted pattern.  One day Mu'y was left at home on the main floor.  When we returned home we heard a thump from upstairs.  I was worried that something had happened and rushed to discover the problem.  On the way up the stairs I recalled that he had been on the main floor when we left.  He greated me with a worried expession and a wagging tail at the top of the stairs.  I was suspicious so I went into our bedroom.  There, right in the middle of the three foot high bed, was a nice round warm indentation.

That night we went to bed.  We knew that Mu'y could negotiate the stairs and was playing us with his whine.  He spent about an hour asking to be carried up the stairs.  When he finally gave up and traversed them his sigh of indignation was audible through the whole house.

We always took Mu'y with us when we travelled.  He loved to sit in the center of the front seat and function as co-pilot.  One of his favorite activities was to watch a pedestrian cross infront of our car.  He would wait until the exact moment when the pedestrian was aligned with him and the hood ornament.  He treated that ornament like the sight of a rifle.  When all was in line he would give one sharp bark.  His voice was painful on the ears in the confines of a car so I undertook to teach him not to 'shoot' the pedestrians.  My method was a quick but gentle clip everytime he did it.  Mu'y learned quickly.  He was no dummy.  He didnt learn the lesson I had in mind.  He learned instead to bark and duck.  His marksman career never ended.

We took him on a trip to San Francisco when the girls were quite small.  He loved to travel and was very protective of our car and tent.  We camped on the Fourth of July in a lovely KOA on the outskirts of Las Vegas.  In the evening as the sun began to set the blasting desert heat became a shivering chill.  Just before we were ready to climb into our sleeping bags the fireworks began.  We were surrounded by displays that delighted and excited the girls.  Mu'y on the other hand was not at all pleased.  He was absolutely terrified!  He spent the entire night whimpering on my feet inside my sleeping bag.

Mu'y was a master at protecting our home.  One evening, as we sat in the sun porch a couple approached the door.  They were frequent callers to our home with their religious pamphlets and offers to discuss the bible.  We always politely refused them.  We were never rude to them but certainly not encouraging.  They were people who knew in the community so we were cautious to treat them with dignity even though their consistent attempts were annoying.  Mu'y saw them approaching.  He made a loud barking dash for the door which was just slightly ajar.  In his haste he stumbled on the mat, fell and rolled out the door.  The visitors rapidly ran out of the yard terrified and thinking we had sicked him on them.  He was equally frightened and made a mad dash for his safety bed.  We later apologized to the visitors and explained what had happened.  I'm not sure they really believed me because they never returned.  Mu'y had my gratitude for his 'work' that evening.

Years passed and Mu'y grew old.  He had loved us without condition, provided the girls companionship, tolerated our cats, protected us and kept us amused.  We were heartbroken when his health deteriorated and we had to say our final fairwells.  The fourth of July is always the time that his memory comes alive.  Happy Fourth of July to everyone and especially to the memory of Mu'y.