Sam
A donation was made in memory of Sam by Doctors and Staff of the Pet Loss Hotline on Jul 31, 2008.
SAM: A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN
Sam was a gorgeous beagle with saddle back markings and big brown eyes that looked liked they were rimed with kohl, the kind of eyes that threatened to turn you into his slave whenever he looked at you. He was about a year old when I adopted him for my father, who had been depressed for sometime after the loss of his previous dog. Sam was AKC registered, not a plus in my father’s eyes as he considered such dogs sissies. Sam was also a sad little fellow at the time. His tale dragged and he looked so forlorn.
My father initially protested when I told him I was bringing him a dog. But his heart melted immediately the moment that I introduced him to this sorrowful little creature. He took Sam’s leash and very slowly walked him around the courtyard of his apartment complex. He was so smitten that any issue he had with the AKC registration vanished instantly.
It didn’t take long for my father’s depression to lift and Sam’s tale to perk up. The two of them hiked together, visited friends and kept each other company.
Sam was a food thief. He would steal my father’s sandwiches if my dad weren’t looking. He slept on my father’s bed and managed to appropriate his pillow during the night as well push him to the edge of the bed. He also snored and “talked” in his sleep.
Sam came to live with us after my father went into the hospital and later into a nursing home. I took him to visit my dad, and he not only cheered him up but also the other patients. Everyone wanted to pet him and hold him. Inadvertently, Sam had become a therapy dog.
He had to adjust, yet again, when he joined our family, which included a Wheaten, a Siamese (the alpha cat) and a tiny Balinese pussycat. Sam deferred to all. He wanted to play with the cats, but that was out of the question unless one of them ran. Then he would be off—up the stairs, down the hall and down the stairs baying his hound dog howl all the way.
We celebrated Sam’s 17th birthday just days before he passed on. I wish I knew his early history and whether he was happy living with us. I know he missed my father. He was a kind and gentle sweetheart who stole my heart the moment saw him.
Sam was a gorgeous beagle with saddle back markings and big brown eyes that looked liked they were rimed with kohl, the kind of eyes that threatened to turn you into his slave whenever he looked at you. He was about a year old when I adopted him for my father, who had been depressed for sometime after the loss of his previous dog. Sam was AKC registered, not a plus in my father’s eyes as he considered such dogs sissies. Sam was also a sad little fellow at the time. His tale dragged and he looked so forlorn.
My father initially protested when I told him I was bringing him a dog. But his heart melted immediately the moment that I introduced him to this sorrowful little creature. He took Sam’s leash and very slowly walked him around the courtyard of his apartment complex. He was so smitten that any issue he had with the AKC registration vanished instantly.
It didn’t take long for my father’s depression to lift and Sam’s tale to perk up. The two of them hiked together, visited friends and kept each other company.
Sam was a food thief. He would steal my father’s sandwiches if my dad weren’t looking. He slept on my father’s bed and managed to appropriate his pillow during the night as well push him to the edge of the bed. He also snored and “talked” in his sleep.
Sam came to live with us after my father went into the hospital and later into a nursing home. I took him to visit my dad, and he not only cheered him up but also the other patients. Everyone wanted to pet him and hold him. Inadvertently, Sam had become a therapy dog.
He had to adjust, yet again, when he joined our family, which included a Wheaten, a Siamese (the alpha cat) and a tiny Balinese pussycat. Sam deferred to all. He wanted to play with the cats, but that was out of the question unless one of them ran. Then he would be off—up the stairs, down the hall and down the stairs baying his hound dog howl all the way.
We celebrated Sam’s 17th birthday just days before he passed on. I wish I knew his early history and whether he was happy living with us. I know he missed my father. He was a kind and gentle sweetheart who stole my heart the moment saw him.
