February 3rd, 2011

pinkie pie

Goodbye, Sam.

This past weekend, while I was in retreat, our family dog Sam passed away at the age of 15.


15 is very old for a dog as big as Sam, the equivalent of about 93 human years, and as is typical for big dogs, his hips had deteriorated to the point where it was painful for him to walk. But the last time I saw him, at Christmas, he was the same happy mutt he'd always been since he was a tiny puppy who "wasn't going to get THAT big".

Sam puppy!

Those giant paws should've been a giveaway!

Before Sam I wasn't really a dog person. We'd always had cats growing up, But Sam was a Good Dog, friendly with everyone, gentle, affectionate, and completely devoted to my father. "He turned me into a dog person," I told Dad when he let me know. "Yeah, he turned a lot of people into dog people."

(And you were a good dog owner, Dad, Sam was lucky you adopted him. He was one happy and well-cared-for dog.)

I don't have much more to say. I know Sam's karma will protect him as he moves from this realm to the next, and I know that Sam left behind a lot of happy memories to fill the hole his passing created.

My stepmother Golda commissioned a painting of Sam shortly before he passed away from a local artist, Jesus Estevez:

Thanks, Sam, you were the best dog.

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