October 24, 2016
Richmond, VA
CBB
It had been one of the longest months of my life. Phil and I were exhausted from lack of sleep and in dire need of both solitude and good conversation. How one can long for both simultaneously is a mystery. We were irritable, drained, frazzled and – most importantly – we were desperately awaiting the moment we would fall in love with the little beast who had joined our family earlier that month, Miss Murphee May.
At ten pounds of caramel fluff and Audrey Hepburn doe eyes, Miss May was without a doubt the most adorable puppy I had ever seen. It did not take me long, however, to look straight through her disguise into her terrorizing puppy soul. (She’s a wheaten terrier and for the first six months of her life, Phil and I called her the terrierist Murph.) She peed everywhere all.of.the.time. She howled through the night. When we went on “walks,” Murph was only interested in playing tug-of-war with the leash. I had envisioned a pup who would curl up in my lap and sleep, showering me with love and affection. Instead,we had adopted a perana who chased us around our tiny apartment in hopes of sinking her razer sharp teeth into our flesh. Okay, okay, sometimes she was perfect- mostly when she slept; it was not love at first sight, though, like we had envisioned.
In the thick of the chaos as we adjusted to our new routine (awake every two hours to take M out, race back at lunch to take M out, race home after work – do not go to the gym! – to take M out, and so forth and so on), we realized Phil’s birthday was quickly approaching. Naturally we wanted to celebrate, but we couldn’t figure out how to leave M since it landed on a Thursday evening (she couldn’t be crated all day – that’s cruel!) but we really wanted to try. Soooooo- this was our plan of action: we would make our dinner celebration the fastest date in history.
Before leaving the apartment, we researched the menu so that we would know exactly what we would order once we were seated. We ran to the car, popped in, parked, ran to the restaurant. I remember being so preoccupied by the fact that little May was cooped up in her crate that I have no idea how I partook in conversation. We ordered. We scarfed our food down. We ran back to our car and raced home to find a peacefully sleeping Murph.
Looking back, this birthday seems ridiculous. Poor Phil. It also makes me smile, for I see Phil’s character shining through the tumult. Phil is selfless, flexible, and compassionate. He is constantly thinking about how best to care for his loved ones, carmel-fluffed beasts and humans alike. Murph and I are lucky indeed.
(Oh- I should also let you know that we love her deeply now. She’s our best girl. No pup is funnier, quirkier, or more entertaining than our Miss May.)
myfeastingtable.com 