This photo of Murphy was sent to me from an old friend who passed it on from a friend of his named Kay, a Habs fan who apparently reads my blog but didn’t know if she should send it or not.
No one should ever feel they shouldn’t send stuff like this to me. It’s always appreciated, and if anyone else has a picture of their pet dressed in Habs clothes, what are you waiting for?
Murphy passed away two years ago, and when I look at his picture, it makes me sad that he can’t see the terrific and exciting team on the ice now. He’d be so proud.
He was never able to watch PK come into his own and capture the Norris, or fully enjoy Carey Price, or love what Brendan Gallagher does, or see Max score 39. Or lay at Kay’s feet and watch his Habs seriously compete for all the marbles.
He came from a different generation, when the sky wasn’t the limit like it is now.
When Murphy wasn’t chasing squirrels and getting excited when his folks came home, he had to endure the Gomez years. The Kostitsyn years. The Samsonov, Laraque, Komisarek, Kaberle years. The years when even the Leafs were better.
He was a frisky young Habs fan when his team didn’t make the playoffs four out of five years in the late-’90s-early-2000s and then again in 2006-07. He endured such bleak days.
Kay might have told him there were times when he was young when the team was losing money and in disarray, and it was probably enough to drive him to drink out of the toilet more than usual and take no bullshit from the cat.
Murphy lived through trying times but he still wore the sweater. If only he could’ve held on for a few more years. He’d be so happy.