The Murphys

My father is as big a dog lover as we are, so when the kids were about 6, 4, and 2 he got each of them a different stuffed animal dog. Fiona's was sort of a Bernese mountain dog, and she named it Tulip (since shortened to "Tullie"). Conor's was a beagle, which he loved since we had a real beagle at the time. He gave his the same name: Murphy. Emmet's was a golden retriever, dubbed "Ruffie". (Originality in pet naming was not our long suit, as our first fish "Bob" would attest.)

Conor lost Murphy one time while running errands with Rachel around town. He was distraught, and Rach quickly found and provided an almost-identical replacement. But a week or so later when they were on Central Street they walked by the north branch of the library, and there in the front window was a sad-looking stuffed beagle watching out for his owner: the original Murphy. He was reclaimed, and Con now had a set of dogs, the Murphys.

One punishment Rachel would use with Conor when needed was to take the Murphys away for a while, sort of a beagle-free time out. Wherever she put them, though, as soon as Rach was distracted Conor would find and recover them, regardless of the consequences. One place he'd never look was the oven, so she started using that as the Murphy time-out box.

When pre-heating the oven one night for dinner (you can guess where this is going) there was an odd smell in the kitchen, and then some smoke: the Murphys had been forgotten about, until almost too late. They were singed all over, and had grill marks across them from the oven grate. With some delicate trimming and a good washing they were cleaned up pretty well, but retained their oven scars as badges of honor.

I don't remember how/when the third Murphy joined us, but it was years ago. He's a little smaller, therefore "Junior Murphy". And he's never been lost on Central Street, or cooked in the oven, so I suspect the other two still look down on him a little. ("Wimp!") All three are showing the typical signs of stuffed animal wear and tear, but are holding up pretty well.

The kids are pretty good with "alone time", usually reading or playing some computer game. None of them needs to be constantly entertained or engaged. But Conor's never really alone, as his pack of beagles is always close by.

Pat