It’s Easter Sunday and a lone figure strolls quietly through the lobby at Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara. No starched white hospital coat; he is clad in a colorful pair of Hawaiian shorts which refuse to stay put and continually inch lower until they sag around his ankles. He manages not to look embarrassed. Suddenly he burps loudly and the sound echoes through the cavernous corridor. Heads turn, children stop and point, visitors and volunteers smile. His oversized ears perk up as a woman approaches and asks if he might stop by to say hello to her ailing mother. Of course I will. He rides the elevator to the 5th floor—the Oncology Ward—where the nurses greet him with hugs and high-fives. The aroma from an open bag of Doritos and dip commingles with the sterile smell of the hospital. A volunteer name tag clipped to his collar announces his name in bold print: MURPHEEE PERKINS.
If you haven’t already guessed, Murpheee, a.k.a. “The Bean,” is a certified therapy dog who belongs to my friend and colleague, Karen Perkins. Karen, who works in the legal department of a Carpinteria company, first came nose-to-snout with the French Bulldog in 2001 while she was volunteering at the Dog Adoption and Welfare Group (DAWG). It was, as they say, love at first sight.
“I looked at him and he looked me in the eyes in a way that was so penetrating, it touched my soul,” remembers Perkins. ”I moved to the left, he moved to the left. I moved to the right, he moved to the right. We have been in step with each other ever since.”
When I met the Gremlin look-alike some years later, he was stretched out on Karen’s lap, all four feet in the air and snoring stridently. I would soon learn that Murpheee is not shy about his bodily functions; passing gas with gusto seems to be a favorite and elicits giggles wherever he goes. In fact, Murpheee and the “Colonel,” a terminally-ill patient, often engaged in—how shall I say it?—“Who Cut the Cheese?” contests. When the Colonel passed away, he left behind a scorecard that read: “Colonel=2, Murpheee=5.” I’ll leave it up to you to figure out what he meant.
As the years passed, Karen and Murpheee became inseparable. They became even closer when, in 2004, Murpheee was diagnosed with cancer. He underwent surgery to remove a mast cell tumor and, to this day, his cancer remains in remission.
Age (he’s now 11) and illness hasn’t slowed down this snubbed-nosed softie one bit. Every Wednesday evening, he volunteers for Visiting Nurses Hospice Care and spends his weekends cheering up cancer patients at Cottage Hospital.
“He knows all too well what the patients must be feeling; after all, he’s a cancer survivor himself,” Perkins says.
What’s next for this dynamic duo? Recently, they embarked on a mighty mission to help certify other therapy dogs like Lillie, a deaf French Bulldog. Perkins formally adopted the 4-year-old dog after fostering her for the past year and raising her three puppies until they were old enough to be adopted.
So, it’s a happy tale after all. The devoted dog with the big bat ears and smiling eyes continues to charm and calm everyone he meets “no matter their background, condition, or prognosis.” We love you, Murpheee—flatulence and all.
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Murpheee's Mighty Mission
