When I first met Murray he was two weeks old and weighed
five pounds. That’s pretty normal since Murray is a Great Dane. I never planned
to become a Dane owner; I was happily devoted to Brittanys and had three at the
time. But when I saw that cute little lump wrapped up in new puppy smell, I
fell in hopelessly in love. Like all love, there was no reason involved. Before I knew it, I was agreeing , no begging,
to be allowed to take him home.
A month later we were on our way. Setting the tone for the
rest of our lives, Murray ignored the pillow I had set out for him on the
passenger seat. Instead he shoved his way onto my lap, wedged beneath the
steering wheel . Technically I was driving, but already he was in charge.
The next day brought his first leash lesson and my
introduction to the legendary Dane stubbornness.. Oh, he was glad to follow me
- as long as I was going where he wanted. However, when a butterfly fluttered by
my lovebug transformed into Kujo. Murray started flinging himself around,
flopping like a marlin on a fishing line and screaming at the top of his lungs.
My neighbors came rushing out to see what the hell I was doing to my puppy.
Eventually we came to an agreement. Murray walked nicely
beside me and I gave him regular treats for doing so. Eventually I ditched the
snacks and he was just fine. In fact Murray was delighted; all he ever wants to
do is be with me.
I mean every second. I can’t remember the last time I was in
the bathroom alone. I had to stop taking
baths and switch to showers because he climbs in the tub. There’s something inherently
pointless about getting out of the bath covered with more dog hair than when
you began.
Almost the second he
was housebroken (at 10 weeks, yay!) he began sleeping on my bed with the
Brittanys at night. Gradually he took up more room than the three others
combined. A few years ago I bought a king-sized bed. It’s still too small.
When most people think of Danes they think of Scooby Doo or
Marmaduke— majestic fawn colored dogs with huge pointy ears. Murray is a harlequin,
that is white with black spots. I didn’t crop his ears; if anyone in the family
was getting plastic surgery it wasn’t going to be the dog. So I can sort of
forgive people for not comprehending that he’s a Great Dane.
The first time I took Murray on an outing he was about three
months old. We were minding our own business outside a Starbucks in Studio
City. A hipster pointed Murray out to his girlfriend and announced loudly, “That,” he said with authority, “is a
miniature Great Dane.” If such a thing existed, I guess it would be a
not-so-Great Dane. But at 140 pounds, it isn’t Murray.
When you have a Great Dane one becomes accustomed to people
commenting. They seem to believe it’s their duty. One woman loudly declared
that he was the ugliest Dalmatian she had ever seen. Which would have upset me
if he was a Dalmatian. Another time a
toddler mistook him for a cow. That embarrassed her mother terribly, but at
least it was original.
As was the time I was walking in Griffith Park when a
businessman in a suit approached me. “What is it?” he asked pointing at Murray. I told him ‘it’ was a Great Dane. “No,” he
insisted impatiently, “What species is it?”
I thought he was joking. “He’s a Great Dane, a dog” I replied. The man
argued with me.
People always ask where his saddle is. I have taken to
telling them that I always wanted a pony. This seems to make them happy. At the
very least it makes them go away.
We drew a lot of attention when I started competing Murray
in agility. Danes are uncommon in the sport for a lot of reasons, primarily
because of their size. Over the years I have had a number of competitors and
officials make it clear that we weren’t welcome. I, however, am as stubborn as
any Dane. We competed quite successfully because Murray loved it, until he was
too old to continue. At eight.
That’s another thing: strangers feel it’s their job to tell
me that giant breed dogs don’t live very long. That’s just mean. I am sadly
aware of the statistics, but I also ignore them. So does Murray. He’s now nine and a half and
doing just fine thank you. He still chases his ball, plays with his sisters and
goes for walks. And rules my world
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