An important and much-loved member of our team sadly passed away on Saturday 22nd October – Murphy. He was a special dog and will be sorely missed by all of us, and especially Yuki, to whom he was devoted. He was, in truth, funny looking, although Yuki always insisted he was handsome (love is blind); his front end was bigger than his back end, he had no tail, and he had the thickest fur ever. We were never quite sure what sort of dog he was – probably an Australian cattle dog, but somehow a dash of brown bear got in there too. What marked him out, apart from his unusual appearance, was that he looked everyone in the eye, checking for signs of kindness and intelligence. When Murphy walked, it was usually in a straight line, purposefully, with his little ears folded flat for streamlining. He always seemed like he was on his way to some important task – a top-level meeting, maybe. It was known as his DoaM walk – Dog-on-a-Mission. The effect on passers-by was amazing – some would simply laugh out loud, others smiled, and many stopped to say hello and ask what kind of animal he was. “A dog”, we would say proudly, “but with added bear”.

Around Ærøskøbing he was an admired celebrity, and his fans would arm themselves with treats in case they were lucky enough to bump into him. He had important duties which he took seriously; protecting Yuki, barking at wedding couples, and chasing hares. He attended several weddings, for which he would put on his bowtie, although he was not by nature much given to formality. Afterwards he would sometimes be rewarded with a bone, which he would guard carefully and gaze at fondly for hours - days even - but often he did not get round to eating it at all.

He was indeed disdainful of much which ordinary dogs did, especially stick fetching. I threw a stick for him on the beach once, just when we first met, before I realised he was not an ordinary dog, and he gave me an old-fashioned look before begrudgingly finding it and bringing it back. Encouraged, I did it a second time; he walked slowly to the stick, picked it up, and then dropped it in the sea. I got the message.

We don’t know how old he was – maybe 15? He was found by Anna’s daughter Louisa, at home near Chicago, during a bad storm, bedraggled and lost and with a broken rope around his neck. She took him in temporarily, while they tried to find Murphy’s people. But Murphy had other ideas, and he decided to stay. Murphy soon had Louisa well-trained, and together they won many agility and smart-dog type trophies. But then Lou had to go away to college, at which point he needed to find a new home. After careful consideration, Murphy decided to move to Ærø and live with Yuki, who was naturally delighted, although he should have asked her first, really.

Long-haul flights are not usually good for dogs, but the Murphster took it in his stride, swaggering cheerfully and purposefully through arrivals at Copenhagen airport - on a mission, as usual. As it turned out, his mission was to break the airport peeing record, right outside the entrance to arrivals, an awe-inspiring sight. 11 minutes, since you ask; with passengers hopping and tiptoeing and leaping around the steaming flood. We then flew him and Yuki from Copenhagen to Ærø in a Cessna 172. We were worried about how he would react to a small plane; but he simply sat quietly on the back seat, looking out of the window with a big doggy smile, gazing down interestedly at his new domain.

Although Murph was at heart a big-city dog, and always enjoyed trips to Copenhagen, he liked Ærø most of all. Right up until old age finally caught up with him, he loved long walks in the countryside and on the beach. He swam too, sometimes (mainly when his furry tum overheated on hot days); but his unusual design and odd weight distribution meant that only his snout and his waggly butt stuck out of the water. He loved to chase hares – Ærø has no rabbits, but it has lots of long-legged, speedy hares – but he never got even close to catching one. He tried though, he really tried, which is how he became known as “the brown bullet”.

Once, on a long walk on the cliffs of Voderup, Murphy bumped into a herd of cows. He was not on the lead, and the cows were huge, skittish, neurotic Simmentaler. Murph’s little ears pricked up and off he went. We feared the worst. Wrongly. Murph astonished us by proving he did indeed have cattle dog DNA. In minutes he had the cattle peacefully corralled in a corner, without upsetting them at all - he was popping up, lying flat, totally focussed, and zipping about like a sheep dog trial champion. He kept them in place until we had crossed the fence into the next field, and then nonchalantly trotted off ahead, ears folded flat once more, on a new mission. Clever dog.

We thought Murphy was indestructible – he was just so…solid. But suddenly, right at the end, he slowed down, and just wanted to sleep, and it was clear the game was up. We loved Murph. He was a really special, intelligent, streetwise, characterful, warm-hearted bear of a dog who always looked you in the eye, and we will miss him horribly. We miss the strange noises he made while he was snoozing in the office; we miss the way he would, lacking a tail, wiggle his butt instead; we miss the way he would engage with anyone who looked like they needed a friend. And Yuki misses him especially – he adored her and was her constant shadow.

Rest in peace and sleep well, dear old dog.