Missing You ...

To say I'm still missing Old Sammy would be putting it mildly. Every time I have to tell someone else he's gone I cry ... in fact I cry several times a day over his loss.

Sammy was the first dog I've ever lost to old age, all the other dogs I can remember were always given away because of moves by the time they were only a year or two old, so Sammy has been my first experience with death.

When I first met J he had Sammy and back then he was a young 7 ... he was way overweight and very lethargic. I insisted that J take him to the vet and they finally found out that he had a thyroid problem. Sammy had been on medication for that ever since. Once he was on medication the change in him was wonderful ... he lost weight and was active and energetic again, I have no doubt we added many years to his life just be giving him that pill twice a day.

I know 16 is an amazing age for a large dog and he was still able to manage our steep basement stairs right to the end (the basement ban didn't take). Everyone tells me that he had a good long life but I still want him back. I was so upset Christmas morning when I saw him lying there just panting and not moving ... I cried into J's chest that I wasn't ready for Sammy to go yet, I don't think I ever would have been ready. I think I scared my good neighbour D because I had a hard time explaining why I needed him at my house, he must have thought at first one of the kids was ill or something was wrong with J. He helped J lift Sammy into our van in a blanket and I sat in the back with him the whole way to the vet's office. I petted him and told him it was okay ... that I was there and that if he had to go I understood...but I lied. I don't understand and I don't think I ever will. I loved that old dog way more than I have ever loved any pet and I miss him so very much ... Just a few blocks from the clinic he whined a little and struggled in the blanket, I did my best to calm him. Then he went still. I knew then he was gone ... the first living thing to die at my side. We carried him into the vet's office and lay him on the table and the vet confirmed it. I'll never forget standing there in that room with J ... both of us looking at the body of the fine dog that had been with us for so long but for such a short time as well. We both cried then and stood there for a long time, J stroking Sammy's fur and me crying. He looked so small all of a sudden and I knew he was gone but leaving his body in that room was a very hard thing to do.

We took care of the arrangements and payments that go along with this kind of thing. I almost wish for the complete closure burying him would have given us all but I couldn't face it then and I don't think I could face it now either. There are others whose job it is to take care of these things even though they can't grieve for us as well. What Sammy left behind is more than his body and belongings ... what stays with me and continues to make me cry even as I type is the memories of him. How he was always right where you least expected him in a dark room ... how he would only wait so long before trying to take food away from the children ... how the kids would guard each other's food if they had to go to the bathroom ... how you always had to be sure, right to the end - even with his bad hips, to put plates of meat well back on the counter or Sammy would take the plate down with his teeth and eat it all. The stories J has told me about his first 7 years will stay with me as well and I know they will stay with him.

He was more than a dog to us; J likes to say he was like a crazy old Uncle we were caring for in his senior years. Crotchety but loved.

I sure do miss him a lot.

Good-Bye Sammy, I love you,

Cass.