The Patient Kept Plea for Murphy, A Name That Left Everyone Puzzled

He arrived in the ICU in critical condition—chest heaving, oxygen struggling to reach his lungs. Nurses whispered that he might not make it through the night, yet the frail old man wouldn’t relent. Between labored breaths, he kept calling out, “Murphy… Murphy…”

We assumed he must be referring to a son or an old war buddy. When I gently asked who Murphy was, his cracked lips formed the words, “My good boy… my nice boy.” It hit me then: he was talking about his dog. A quick call to his daughter confirmed it—Murphy was a thirteen‑year‑old golden retriever, left with her brother after her father’s sudden hospitalization.