Welcome to Sam's Rainbow Residency

Memories of Sam

I visited the local dog pound in 1993, searching for a new friend. I already had the name picked out, now I just had to locate the companion I would call "Sam". As soon as I walked into the kennels, the current residents began barking for my attention, "Pick me! Pick me!" All except you - you just stood there, silently looking at me and wagging your tail. You and I soon walked out of the building, ready to begin sharing our lives. A trip to the local vet was next on the agenda for shots, neutering (sorry about that!) and a complete checkup (I was informed that you were a Husky/Collie mix and about a year old). This was followed by a stop at the pet store for water and food dishes, collar and leash, and the required chew toys. I was single at the time and working midnights, so I constructed an outdoor pen for you to live in, where we participated in an ongoing contest, where you would escape, I would have to figure out how you got out, close up the exit, and wait for you to make your next move. Your methods included chewing through 1/2 inch lattice board, digging under fences, and jumping on top of the A/C unit in the corner of your pen and out onto the porch. You were always waiting for me each morning on the front porch, dirty and smelly, wagging your tail. Susan, my new bride, joined our family in 1995, along with Bailey, Susan's pug and your new little sister. Since Susan viewed you as just a big, hairy pug, your life changed dramatically as you moved from your pen to our living room and began living the life of entitlement. You truly thought you were a pug, especially when you sat on our laps, or lay on the back of the sofa, watching the world go by. The four of us, the "Pug Marines," had a great life, going to parks, camping, taking walks around the neighborhood. You were the gentle one and Bailey was the fierce guard dog. Our "kids" were known by name around town, and went with us practically everywhere. In the spring of 2003, you began bumping into things and nipping our fingers when being fed hotdogs, your favorite. A trip to the vet (Dr. Mercurio, a truly caring professional) confirmed our suspicions, you were going blind. Unfortunately, your blindness was due to an inoperable tumor that would eventually take you from us. I vowed to you that, as long as you weren't in pain, I would take care of you and continue to give you the unconditional love that you had given to me over the years. God knew that your days were limited so He gave us a gift to help us cope with the impending grief. On September 26, 2003, our son Henry was born. We went as a family to have our pictures taken professionally, knowing that our time together was growing short. You and I had a great winter, going to wide-open spaces where you could run with abandonment, accepting my assistance going up and down stairs, still using that great sense of smell to locate treats placed strategically around the house. When spring came, we both knew that the time was drawing near. You were having a tough time getting around and you just weren't happy anymore. One morning, you just couldn't make it down the stairs anymore, so I called Dr. Mercurio and made an appointment for that afternoon. I took the day off to spend with you, just petting your head and brushing your beautiful coat of fur. When Susan got home from work (Henry was in school), we (you, me, Susan and Bailey) all got in the truck (Sam and Bailey's Ride) and made one last trip through Elizabeth Park, then to the vet. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Sam went peaceably, surrounded by his family that loved him. We had his shell cremated and his ashes will be scattered at the base of the memorial tree we are planting in the park -- Sam loved the park. I really miss him. The way he always wanted to lead but didn't know which way to go. How his hearing would fail him whenever we were at the park, but could hear a french fry drop on the carpet. How he could NEVER grasp the concept of "catch". I cherish the memory of his gentle nature and loving spirit and it gives me great comfort to know that I'll see him again at the Rainbow Bridge... ____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Update - We lost Sam's little sister, our Bailey Girl, on July 15th, 2010, after 15 years of joyful life. We buried her, along with Sam's ashes, in the shade of a maple tree in our front yard. I made sure they were touching each other, for all eternity. I like to sit and read under that tree, knowing the spirits of our dear pets are close by. We sure do miss them, but we'll see them again....

Sam's People Parent(s), Laurence, would appreciate knowing you have visited their Baby's Residency. Click here to Email Laurence a message, or to send a sympathy card click here. Email this page to a friend. Give a gift renewal of Sam's residency.

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