Well, we put our dog to rest today. He was a golden retriever named Sam (short for Samson because of his size) who had a little Saint Bernard in him. Sam was alive for half of my life. Here are my memories of Sam:
1. My friend and I would play with him as a puppy by shoving him across our kitchen floor. He would sail across the entire floor and, in his puppy playfulness, run back toward us, apparently not knowing it would happen again. We would do this over and over.
2. My friends and I often came home for lunch in high school and would jump on my large trampoline. We would force Sam to join us. He didn't like it, but he did catch a little air.
3. I would wrestle with Sam and then pretend to be dead, at which point he would come to me, start to whimper profusely and finally start to lick my face until I gave up by petting him.
4. He would escape our front door and perform his business on our neighbors' lawns. We would have to chase him, but he was faster, and so he would always win. Sometimes we would ignore him, and he would finally show up at the door later, seemingly put off by our indifference.
5. I would jump left to right, left to right, left to right, and Sam would jump with me. He would jump the direction I jumped, trying to catch me; but by the time he did, I was already jumping the other direction. It looked like we were dancing.
6. If you sat down in front of Sam, he would immediately jump into your lap. Mind you, he reached one-hundred pounds, and so was no small dog. You would feel smothered, but also loved.
7. My friends and I would underhand throw my cat-- Misty-- at him. The cat would go crazy, and poor Sam would just flinch and sit there.
There are so many other memories of Sam. Suffice to say that he was an incredible dog. I don't really wonder why there is a saying calling dogs "man's best friend." Sam had an innocent acceptance of people, traded only for being petted.
1. My friend and I would play with him as a puppy by shoving him across our kitchen floor. He would sail across the entire floor and, in his puppy playfulness, run back toward us, apparently not knowing it would happen again. We would do this over and over.
2. My friends and I often came home for lunch in high school and would jump on my large trampoline. We would force Sam to join us. He didn't like it, but he did catch a little air.
3. I would wrestle with Sam and then pretend to be dead, at which point he would come to me, start to whimper profusely and finally start to lick my face until I gave up by petting him.
4. He would escape our front door and perform his business on our neighbors' lawns. We would have to chase him, but he was faster, and so he would always win. Sometimes we would ignore him, and he would finally show up at the door later, seemingly put off by our indifference.
5. I would jump left to right, left to right, left to right, and Sam would jump with me. He would jump the direction I jumped, trying to catch me; but by the time he did, I was already jumping the other direction. It looked like we were dancing.
6. If you sat down in front of Sam, he would immediately jump into your lap. Mind you, he reached one-hundred pounds, and so was no small dog. You would feel smothered, but also loved.
7. My friends and I would underhand throw my cat-- Misty-- at him. The cat would go crazy, and poor Sam would just flinch and sit there.
There are so many other memories of Sam. Suffice to say that he was an incredible dog. I don't really wonder why there is a saying calling dogs "man's best friend." Sam had an innocent acceptance of people, traded only for being petted.
I'm sorry for your loss Tony, but I'm glad you had so many years with him and all of the good memories you have.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Tobie. I appreciate that.
ReplyDelete