Sunshine Sammy

Posted by Annmarie B. Tait in PawPrints On My Heart | 1 comment

By, Annmarie B. Tait

Our dog Sammy came into our lives not merely on a whim while passing a pet store, but rather after years of pitching the idea to my husband with little success. When at last Joe changed his mind I wasted no time unraveling the mystery of why. Instead, I made tracks to find us a dog and fast!
Lucky for us, a woman I worked with knew of an eighteen-month-old Yorkshire terrier that needed a good home, and I jumped on the opportunity. “I’ll take him!” I said, sight unseen.

The day Joe and I picked up Sammy we were met at the door by his owner and the ear-piercing yelp of the fur ball that peered at us through a baby gate that held him back within the confines of a powder room. “He’s very energetic”, the woman said with a slight giggle as she opened the gate and Sammy tore past my feet like greased lighting.

I glanced over at my husband’s pained expression just as Sammy came barreling back through the room. This time he careened in circles around my feet while yapping with all the enthusiasm of a toddler hopped up on a birthday party sugar high.

I smiled weakly and said, “He’s so cute! Does he ever slow down?” “Sure,” she replied. “When he’s asleep he slows down to a full stop.” I gulped, then bent over and picked up my new eight-pound fur covered wiggle machine for the first time.

Sammy belonged to me now. I buried my face into his fluffy fur and breathed in his fresh from the grooming salon scent. We left with Sammy, his crate, his dog dish, and a whole lot of hope that we hadn’t made a mistake.

The early days were harrowing to say the least. Sammy, true to his “energetic” reputation managed to gnaw chew marks on the rungs of several kitchen chairs and shredded decorative throw pillows like they were going out of style. Still my husband showed great patience with teaching Sammy to obey commands and behave. And Sammy caught on – eventually.

Though trying at the start, once I took Sammy over to meet my dad, fear having made a mistake dispelled the moment they laid eyes on each other. No matter how many times Sammy accidentally sprang a leak on the carpet, made sport of chewing up one of my slippers, or worse in the early days, the happiness he brought to everyone especially Dad made up for it all.

By the time Sammy joined our family, Dad was well into his seventies and triple bypass surgery topped the list of issues that little by little ate away at the excellent health he enjoyed for most of his life.
When Sammy and Dad took up keeping company, Dad was still pretty spry. He took him for walks and played fetch with him in the back yard endlessly without ever loosing enthusiasm for Sammy’s puppy dog antics. Dad relished our unexpected visits or better yet, when Joe and I went on vacation and left Sammy in his care.

Dad played with Sammy all day long and spoiled him to his heart’s content. At night Sammy slept contentedly curled in a ball at the foot of the bed and Mom put up with the syncopated rhythm of their nightly snore-a-thons. She always said it was worth it just to see the spring in Dad’s step whenever Sammy came for a visit.

As the calendar pages turned Dad’s health declined but seeing Sammy still brought him great joy. Dad grew weaker on a daily basis and Sammy’s visits seemed the only thing that roused his enthusiasm. Every time I pulled into my parent’s driveway there sat Dad in his easy chair looking out the window waiting for a glimpse of Sammy. And when Sammy poked his little head high enough in the car window for Dad to see, Dad’s face lit up like a neon sign.

Sammy Driving

Toward the very end Dad no longer had the strength to do much more than hold Sammy on his lap and stroke his fluffy coat. But Sammy adapted with love always behaving and affectionately licking Dad to show his appreciation. I have no doubt that Sammy sensed Dad’s need for his affection and lavished it on him for every moment they were together. The last time I saw my Dad in the hospital he barely had breath left to speak but as soon as I entered the room Dad turned his head toward me and with a frail smile whispered, “How’s my little buddy?”

For months after he died Sammy curled up in Dad’s favorite chair with a sad sigh every time I visited Mom. He grieved the loss of my father as much as we did. This was one very deep love story.
Once Mom moved into a retirement community Sammy attracted a whole new group of friends with his appealing nature. Just walking into the lobby with Sammy drew Mom’s new neighbors out from behind their locked doors with high hopes for an opportunity to nestle him in their arms and pet his soft fluffy fur. And the years passed.

Mom is gone now, along with Joe’s parents, my only uncle, and very unexpectedly this past year my dear nephew. All were official members of Sammy’s fan club.

Sammy carries on, still bringing sunshine wherever he goes, well into his own golden years now. When freshly groomed, he looks just like the puppy we brought home who raced non-stop around my feet. But he is not.

Now when we go on vacation we reserve pet friendly accommodations only. Leaving Sammy in the care of a kennel, even one that boasts luxurious amenities just won’t do. Sammy needs the special loving care it was always his pleasure to give to so many.

Going On Vacation

He still weighs eight pounds just as he did the day we brought him home, but frail rather than feisty better describes him these days. Though he still has a mighty yelp and a frantic wag in his little tail whenever a treat is at hand.

Sammy knows this house so well his deteriorating eyesight goes un-noticed. Still, the vet insists it has diminished. His steps are slower and no jaunt up or down the stairs is ever attempted without sincere deliberation on his part regarding the necessity of the trip.

Having Sammy with me all these years has kept a little piece of Dad’s spirit alive in my heart and for that I owe Sammy a debt of gratitude.

This July Sammy will celebrate his fourteenth birthday, and I must reconcile myself to the fact that some day he will leave us to go keep company with Dad once again. I expect Dad will be waiting for him with open arms and one colossal soup bone that Sammy can gnaw on from here to eternity. Or at least until I get there to join in the fun!