Robert Kennedy rounds a bend on the trail at Murphey Candler Park and points to a recently graded slope of dirt.
In December 2008, the area was an overgrown tangle of weeds masking a ditch in the woods of the north DeKalb County park. A blue towel caught Kennedy’s eye that morning, leading him discover a dog whose head was so badly beaten he wasn’t sure at first just what he’d found.
But as Kennedy stops to recall that cold winter morning, that same dog — missing an eye and with a dent in his head — trots right by on his morning walk.
Murphy is far more focused on what lies ahead, not what is behind him.
“I hope if I ever have any challenges, I can recover like him,” Kennedy says of the approximately 9-year-old Australian shepherd mix. “I take my cues from Murphy, and he has forgotten all about it.”
“It” was Joe Waters’ decision to bash his dog, then named Austin, twice in the head with a sledgehammer. The attack and the discovery of the dog — renamed after the park, though with different spelling — captured headlines across the world.
Kennedy, who found Murphy on his 60th birthday, urged the closest veterinarian he could find to do whatever he could to save the dog.
Stephen Pope, the medical director at VCA Pets Are People Too in Dunwoody, remembers the dog as thin, clearly in shock from the trauma, and unresponsive.
His first job was surgery to repair the severe skull and jaw fractures and to remove the damaged left eye. Pope then put the dog on a variety of medicines to help keep him stable while he recuperated.
Worry turned to marvel as Murphy recovered so well that he was released to Kennedy’s Brookhaven home on the eighth day.
Over time, it became clear there would be no long-term neurological damage. Murphy behaves much like any other dog, compensating only with the occasional cocked head to use his good eye.
Much of the recovery is due to $10,000 worth of care and twice-daily visits from Kennedy. Pope said Murphy’s temperament shows “he had some decent upbringing. And Mr. Kennedy has brought out the best in him, being such a positive person himself.”
Kennedy, the chief financial officer at the Capital City Club, kept a low profile for more than a year, in part to work with Murphy.
First up was getting him settled into a home that already had two golden retrievers: Kennedy’s dog, Charlie, and his daughter’s pet, Stella.
Kennedy also had to help Murphy bounce back from other health problems, such as being underweight and battling a skin condition. Under Kennedy’s care, Murphy has plumped up from 38 pounds to 53 pounds. His once-bald tail and patchy fur now gleam from daily fish oil treatments and regular brushing.
“He was a mess and look at him now,” said Cathie Andress, a regular walking partner of Kennedy’s. “You’d have to be heartless not to be touched by this dog.”
Kennedy was overwhelmed by how many people responded to Murphy’s plight. He set up a trust fund for the dog’s care after offers to help poured in from 30 states, Puerto Rico and Canada. He raised $38,000 — money that will last throughout Murphy’s life and then go to nonprofit pet rescue groups.
But that was Kennedy’s final public act. He rejected offers to appear on local and national TV, including “The Ellen DeGeneres Show,” for one key reason: Murphy was evidence in the case against Waters, not his pet.
The dog was brought into the DeKalb County Courthouse during Waters’ two-day trial. He showed no reaction to his previous owner but did tug at his leash when he spotted Kennedy.
The jury convicted Waters of a felony and two misdemeanors in what he described as a mercy attack when he mistakenly thought his pet had been poisoned.
Just moments before the judge sentenced Waters to one year in jail, a prosecutor presented Kennedy with notarized papers. Murphy was now officially his.
Murphy spends his days romping and resting with Charlie. The dogs and Kennedy take walks at least three times a week at Murphey Candler, and Murphy has yet to react to the scene of his attack.
“I think there’s something in dogs when they know they’ll be OK, and then their true personality emerges,” Kennedy says as Murphy sniffs and plays in the park.
“He couldn’t be happier with life,” Kennedy adds. “My wish for everybody is to have room in their heart to take a dog into their home and know that kind of happiness.”
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