He arrived in the ICU in serious condition—his breathing strained, his energy fading. Nurses worried he might not make it through the night, but the elderly man held on, whispering the same name again and again: “Murphy… Murphy…”
We assumed Murphy was a person—perhaps a family member or a close friend. But when I gently asked him, he smiled faintly and said, “My good boy… my nice boy.” That’s when it became clear: he was asking for his dog.
A call to his daughter confirmed it—Murphy was his 13-year-old golden retriever, staying with her brother after the sudden hospitalization. Without hesitation, our charge nurse began working to bring Murphy to the hospital. It wasn’t easy, but we made it happen.
When Murphy entered the room, his tail wagged as if he understood everything. He padded over to the bed, placed his head gently on the man’s chest, and stayed there. For the first time that day, the patient opened his eyes.
“Murphy, did you find her?” he asked softly. We weren’t sure what he meant—but Murphy didn’t move. He simply rested there, and the man’s breathing steadied as his hand curled into the dog’s fur.
Over the next few days, the man—Walter—grew stronger. He was able to eat, talk, and even smile. Murphy never left his side.
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