Sammie

I walked around the empty backyard surveying the scene. I felt very alone and lost. No longer there was my loyal companion following me at my heels, looking up with me with a smiling face, anticipating my every move so lovingly and loyally. A simple chase, or a game of fetch, or just a pat on the head, Sammie was easy to please because she just loved being with me. And now, my beloved American Eskimo Sammie is gone.

Today I had to take her to the vet and have her put down. She was diagnosed with cancer of the leg, and the prognosis was not good. I had a couple of options, one being amputation, but our vet Dr. John Hetzler advised against it. Sammie was at least 11 years old but probably closer to 12 or 13. We never really knew because she was given to us by a stranger. The other option was to just try to make her comfortable with meds. We took the latter route, we had already gone through numerous surgeries with our cat Tigra and the inevitable occurred anyway, and Tigra's quality of life was pretty bad for a long time. We didn't want to go down that road again, so we chose quality over quantity.

*****

"Ya want her?", the man said with a southern drawl as he approached us. My wife Arlain and I had just exited the San Diego Humane Society when we admired this man's little white American Eskimo. He asked us the above question, and we were curious as to why he would just give away such a good looking dog. He went on to explain how this dog was running around his neighborhood for a whole week in the rain. He and his neighbors tried in vain to catch her for a week, and he finally got a hold of her. Unfortunately, he could not keep her as he lived in a townhouse that didn't allow pets. So he brought this dog to the Humane Society, but they could not take her without paperwork showing she was licensed, which she was not. So he asked us if we wanted her. It was either that or off to the pound, where it was questionable she would last 72 hours before being euthanized. We agreed to take her. That was May 1, 1994.

She was very hungry when we took her home. She gobbled down the dog food we bought for her too quickly. She ended up vomiting the food and then she buried the vomit, it seemed, to save it for later. She also found a dead, decomposed rat that a bird left behind and tried to eat it. Poor little dog, she had learned to survive on the streets.

We named her "Angel" at first, but that name didn't really stick. We then named her "Sammie" as in Samoyed, because that's what she looked like. We didn't know what kind of breed she was but she looked like a mini-Samoyed - through research we found out she was an American Eskimo. We put an ad in the newspaper but nobody responded, so she just kind of stuck around. Sammie became one of the family.

I would take her for a run or a walk almost daily. It was one of the joys of her life. She also loved going for rides with us and she would get excited everytime she would see a dog walking with their owner. She also loved being chased in the backyard. I could never catch her, she was lightning quick and agile. And smart too, she would use the tree to dodge me, and I could never get near her. "That is cheating" I would say to her, and she just smiled back at me in her American Eskimo smile.

She also loved to go to Dog Beach in Ocean Beach. We would let her run free, and she loved to frolic in the water. She fancied herself as a big dog, and this little American Eskimo would run with the St. Bernards, German Shepherds, and Labradors thinking she was just as big as they were. Coversely, the snob looked down on the little chihuahuas and yorkies, these were little dogs and she was a big dog I'm sure she thought.

For about 8 years in a row, until our second child Adam was born, we would without fail take her to the Walk for Animals sponsored by the Helen Woodward Center in Rancho Santa Fe. She just loved taking the 3 mile walk and it excited her to be around the other dogs.

Once we started having kids though, the focus on Sammie diminished unfortunately. As we focused on the kids, Sammie diligently stood by, but the rides in the car and the trips to Helen Woodward and Dog Beach became few and far between. We continued with the walking and running though, and Arlain trained for two marathons with Sammie - she was a great training partner.

Back in February of this year I noticed that Sammie was limping around on her hind leg. It wouldn't go away, so I took her to see Dr. Hetzler, and that's where we received the news. It was grim, but we determined to make her last days as comfortable as possible. We took her walking again, and this time with the kids in tow. We gave her some Deramaxx, which is a pain med for dogs, and it seemed to help her. So much so, that I actually was able to run with her occassionally. She never got down or depressed - she kept her happy-go-lucky demeanor, and to her the pain was a minor inconvenience.

Early this month we noticed that a sore was developing on her leg. We took her in, and the Doc indicated that the tumor was breaking through the skin. He said he could excise it, but it would reappear in a couple of weeks and it would be just a futile surgery. So we resolved to keep the wound clean and bound on a regular basis. We did this for a week, and noticed the wound was just getting bigger by the day, and pretty messy too. So I took her back and the Doc said we should start thinking about doing the humane thing. This was on Saturday, July 17. We agreed and made an appointment for Monday the 19th.

On Sunday the 18th I took her to Dog Beach for one last time. Her leg was heavily bandaged and her energy level was down. I carried her onto the sand, but once she realized where we were, she wanted me to let her down. And she played with the other dogs, limping around but playing nonetheless. And yes, with the big dogs, the little snob. We spent about an hour there, and when I brought her home, she was rejouvinated and alive. The next morning, which was the day that she was supposed to be "going home", she was just too perky and alive. I felt it wasn't time yet, so I cancelled the appointment.

For the next week or so I changed her bandage more frequently, and I noticed the wound getting bigger and more bloody. On Monday the 26th I changed her bandage and noticed the irritation from the wound was reaching the top of the leg and the foot as well, so I wrapped up her whole leg real good. Right after that, she seemed to lose her energy. She was lying around all day, and she just wasn't excited about anything anymore. So I started thinking about doing the deed finally.

On Tuesday the 27th, I had to coax her to the kitchen to eat her meal. It was through her meals that I gave her the medication. She wanted to come but had a hard time walking. But I managed to get her to eat her breakfast. I thought about her all day, and when I got home from work I opened the back door and called her outside. Surprisingly, she came right out, as if she was waiting to go in the backyard. She limped to the grass and did her thing. And then she walked over to the gate as if she wanted to go for a walk. So I put on her harness and leash, and we took a walk together. She limped along slowly, but I patiently let her take her time. She sniffed around, and we got to the end of the block and she just stopped. She looked at me with some tired eyes. We turned around, and she limped alongside me all the way home. I didn't realize it at the time, but that would be our last walk together.

When I finally came into the house I saw that she had been vomiting all day. Her breakfast was pretty much all over the bedroom floor. I tested her appetite by giving her some meat from the fridge, but she wouldn't take it. She just wouldn't eat anymore. I knew it was finally time. The next morning, which was this morning, I called Dr. Hetzler and made an appointment.

So this morning we went to the backyard one last time. I cried while holding her, and she looked in my eyes and I could see the pain that she was enduring. She was weak, in pain, and suffering. It was the right thing to do but it was also one of the hardest things I had to do. The time came and I put her in my car and drove her to the vet.

Once we got there, they took us to the room, and they gave her a shot to make her fall asleep. As the nurse injected the medication into her back, Sammie and I locked eyes one last time. With that patented smile, she kept looking into my eyes, with her own eyes getting droopier by the second. Within a couple of minutes she was fully asleep. Dr. Hetzler came in, and shaved a bit of her coat off and put it in a baggie for a keepsake. He then completed the task of sending her Home. Once the final injection was made, Dr. Hetzler put the stethoscope to her heart. I watched Sammie's face, and I saw her tongue come slightly out, then go back in. It would be her final breath. Dr. Hetzler said that she was gone.

I cried all the way home, and when I got home I called Arlain and through my tears gave her the news. When I hung the phone up, I painfully wailed for quite some time. It was almost dog-like, as if I was howling at the moon or something. A loving member of my pack was gone, and I was hurting.

Unfortunately, I had to go back to work, but not after one more stroll in the backyard. It was an empty backyard. I felt lost and alone walking around, and it seemed so much bigger, as if an important presence that used to be there, a presence that used to fill the big void, was missing. She surely was missed. And I found one of her old chew toys laying on the ground. It was a toy newspaper that we had bought for her when we first got her back in 1994. I held it and sat on my back porch, looking out at the empty yard, already missing my beloved Sammie.

I Am Right Here
Michael D. Lewis

You were always there without fail
Sometimes I would neglect you
But you always stood by my side
You never would let me forget you
I just kind of made an assumption
That you’d always be there for me
But the sunset has set right upon you
Leaving me feeling empty

It never occurred to me
That this day would come to pass
Time never seems to slow down
It seems like we travel too fast
And one day the end of the road
Leads us to Heaven’s great lair
But for now, I am right here
And I don’t see you anywhere

I look out at the empty horizon
And it seems so much smaller today
Everything reminds me of you
And how you would frolic and play
Across the grass so green
And through the hills and the trees
So eager to lean up against me
So eager you wanted to please

It never occurred to me
That this day would come to pass
Time never seems to slow down
It seems like we travel too fast
And one day the end of the road
Leads us to Heaven’s great lair
But for now, I am right here
And I don’t see you anywhere

And as I held you close
And said my final goodbyes
Through tears of pain and sadness
I looked right into your eyes
I could see the pain you were holding
Was dragging your spirit away
A spirit so free and giving
A love that forever will stay

I’m holding those knick-knacks and memories
Close to my heart and mind
Looking for meanings and purpose
And looking for gems I can find
And sometimes I’ll fall into old times
And live in the past somewhere
I swear that just for one moment
I saw you standing there

It never occurred to me
That this day would come to pass
Time never seems to slow down
It seems like we travel too fast
And one day the end of the road
Leads us to Heaven’s great lair
But for now, I am right here
And I don’t see you anywhere

Sammie Lewis - 1992 - July 28, 2004