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Sweet Murphy was our family’s nine-year-old, happy, healthy golden retriever. Murphy loved many things: his family, snacks, belly rubs, stealing socks (etc), but he was his happiest when in the mountains with me. Murphy loved to hike.
One of his favourite hikes was Junction Falls, a 5-km journey to a stunning 4-tier waterfall in Kananaskis, Alberta. We often joked Murphy, the parkour specialist, would do the hike 15 times over before we even reached the waterfall.
One Friday, my cousin came to hike Junction Falls with us. Murphy was his usual happy self, off free running on the mountainside and riverbeds while periodically checking in with us. Murphy gave us no indication of what was to come.
We made it to the waterfall, had a glass of my late Grandpa’s favorite drink, threw a few of Murphy’s treasured river rocks, and headed back.
Shortly into our return, Murphy’s pace slowed. Unusual for him, he began walking with us, until he stopped walking altogether and hung his head low. I knew something was wrong with my boy. I checked his gums - they were stark white, indicating internal bleeding. Panic set in. We were still 4km from the car, with no wifi or help in sight, and a 90-lb golden retriever to carry off this mountain as fast as possible.
I tried to carry him in my arms and run but it was impossible. He was too heavy and weak. We assessed what we had - sweaters and backpacks - and used everything we could to first hoist Murphy, then harness him to me for our trek out. It was tight and uncomfortable for him, and the straps dug deeply into my shoulders. I am grateful for powerful adrenaline, fueled by the love of my soul dog, who I could feel slipping with every passing second as we made our way out.
Murphy reached the comfort of his well loved and cozy backseat - the backseat that had taken him on so many happy adventures with me - where he passed peacefully wrapped in his blankets in my cousin’s arms, moments from the nearest vet office. Never in a million years did I think this would be our story. Murphy had been on hundreds of hikes. I wondered how I could have missed something so severe. What happened to my healthy, happy boy in the blink of an eye? What if we had gotten him out of there faster?
Murphy’s autopsy revealed a 4 cm mass, which was cardiac hemangiosarcoma (heart cancer) which burst on our hike - a cancer renowned for sudden death in dogs with little to no warning sign. I lost my best friend. While we'll always battle “what if”, Murphy died doing what he loved with who he loved most.
Our heartbreak and the lessons we learned led us here to you and The Murphy Bag. Out of our devastation came a mission: to ensure no pet parent ever has to face an emergency unprepared. When the unthinkable happens, you have a plan - and the tools - to give both you and your beloved best friend the best fighting chance. No hesitation, no second-guessing, and no moments lost when it matters most.
Murphy’s presence and boundless love for life moved mountains. Now, his legacy will do the same.
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