Today my dog Murphy turns nine-years old.  According to the records I have from The Bull Terrier Rescue Mission, she was born 15 June 2013, which is a pretty easy date to remember.

Last summer I suddenly, inexplicably went a bit dog crazy.  I was not looking for a bull terrier at all, but stumbled upon one on at Petfinder.  I spoke with a representative from BTRM, and we realized that that particular dog would not be a good fit for me due to his advanced age and delicate health issues.

She put my information into their database and said it might be a few months before a dog came available in my area.  One week later, while moving a then-girlfriend to Athens, Georgia, I got a call from BTRM asking me to foster an older girl who was good with children and other dogs.

About ten days later, I had Murphy.

She was a mess at the time—a bad rash, creaky joints, uncut toenails—but to me, she was perfect.  I knew the day I picked her up in North Carolina that she was my dog, and I was her human.

Two months later, I formally adopted Murphy.  A few months after that she had her six-month checkup, and the veterinarian said she looked like a completely different dog.

She’s a bit chunky around the middle (so am I!), but I love her.

Happy Birthday, Murphy!