Sammy’s gone. Those two words wrench at my heart, twist my stomach and unleash a new flood of tears from my already grief scalded eyes. I wonder, as I wade through this new onslaught of anguish, how many tears can one person cry?

Sammy’s gone. From our very first meeting, five years ago, at the Petco in Reno where rescuer, Linda Satchwell, introduced us, Sammy was mine, and I was his. All the way back home, where he was to become the newest member of my pack, Sammy sat on the middle console of my Jeep, and rested one small paw on my arm, and at times, laid his head on my shoulder. From then on, whenever we were together…sitting on the sofa, sunning ourselves on the back deck or nestled in bed…. Sammy always made sure to connect with the gentle touch of one small paw…always.

Sammy’s gone. Never again will I see his jaunty little butt trotting down our favorite trails. Never again will I kiss his funny, scrunchy, little face, his soft brown eyes looking at me with unadulterated love and adoration. Never again will he sit on the console, peering intently through the windshield,  on the lookout for rabbits, holding gently to my arm with one small paw, his constant declaration of love.

Sammy’s gone, after a hard fought battle with liver failure, the result of cancer treatment. Several times I had to leave my little guy at the vet’s office in order to have his blood cleansed of the toxins that addled his brain, causing him to wander aimlessly and ceaselessly. He would become lost and confused in his own home. Still, I persisted in treatments, special food, medications and almost weekly trips to the vets, thinking I could affect a cure by force of will and an over powering love for this sweet little Pug. He had to spend several nights away from home, and I now resent that loss of time with him. But, had he NOT stayed to have what amounted to blood dialysis, I would have lost him sooner. However, I knew the battle was over on Friday morning, July 15th, when he was hunched with pain, and couldn’t keep down even his special foods.  At 9:45, in the Carson Valley Veterinary Hospital,where Sammy was well known, and loved, Dr. Cameron Ross administered the shot that quietly and painlessly sent him on his journey to that much talked about Rainbow Bridge. I held Sammy and whispered my love to him, hoping those words will stay with him through eternity. My final farewell was to kiss one small paw.

Sammy’s gone.  He has now become a member of the pack of my long departed, beloved, canine children that at times “ghost” me on the valley trails. I have no doubt, that at some point, Sammy will walk with me again, hopefully sooner than later. Perhaps I’ll be blessed enough to catch a glimpse of his sturdy little body bounding through the high grass and sage, chasing after the big dogs. Maybe his shadow will briefly drift along in my footsteps, or I may just “sense” that he is with me. Then, I will call his name through my tears, and wish that I could tug on those velvety ears and whisper, “I love you, Sammy, I always have loved you, and forever will I  love you.”  In whatever manner he chooses to make his presence known, whenever he comes to briefly ease my heartache, he is welcome with love. But…I will, for the rest of my given days, long for the gentle touch of that one small paw.

Sammy’s gone. Rest in peace, my sweet, heart’s treasure.