Sam Rescued Us

She wasn't an official rescue.

A friend of mine called, worried. He explained his family was moving into a rental house and his dog wasn't allowed. He asked if we'd consider "adopting" Sam into our family. My wife and I had owned dogs most of our married life, but those canines had been small/medium sized breeds. Sam weighed 90 pounds and was strong as an ox. With four young children in the home, the size of Sam concerned us, but we invited our friend to bring her over and meet the family.

The evening Sam came to visit, our family congregated in the fenced in backyard to meet her. Her owner unfastened the leash and Sam sniffed the dirt, grass, trees and marked her territory. After giving Sam some time to become familiar with her surroundings, our kids beckoned her come and she happily complied. She offered a friendly face licking to those closest to the ground. Just three years old, she exhibited the playful nature of a puppy. I threw a tennis ball across the yard, and Sam sprinted to retrieve it. With a little coaxing, she dropped the slobbery ball in my hand, waiting to chase it again. My wife and I noted, when Sam neared the kids, she did so carefully as she understood she couldn't roughhouse around the youngest of our children. Without need for deliberation or a family meeting, we welcomed her into our home.

Sam acclimated to her new surroundings quickly. She loved sprawling on the couch or across the oval rug on the hardwood floor. She enjoyed the outdoors, but seemed most happy when inside with her people. The kids hugged her, reclined against her, and our toddler sat on her from time to time. Not once did Sam grumble or growl. She patiently accepted the occasional annoying love of toddlers.

Over time, Sam grew quite protective of our family. When someone knocked or rang the doorbell, Sam rushed to be the first one to greet whoever stood on the porch. If she recognized the individual, her tail wagged back and forth...packing a punch to those standing near her. If the person knocking was a stranger, she growled and barked thunderously until we calmed her down. I'm certain that bark would have deterred anyone with criminal intent.

Though she exhibited a fierce protective nature, she wasn't always courageous. Sam hated storms. I remember one night in particular. A thunderstorm popped up about 2:30 in the morning. At one point, a loud clap of thunder rattled our windows. Without warning, Sam leaped into our bed and snuggled up between my wife and I. Sam had gained about 20 pounds and took up considerable space. After a couple of minutes of coaxing, she eased down to the floor, but hovered near our bed for the duration of the storm. At one point, she stood with her paws on the bed, panting with anxiety. My wife rubbed her head and softly sang to Sam. The song and my wife's voice calmed her down, and she drifted off to sleep.

Two years of Sam's life with our family presented some significant challenges. My eldest son battled cancer from 2011 - 2013. (By the grace of God, he won!) During that period of time, our family suffered multiple ups and downs. On several occasions, I sat outside with Sam and shared my hurts with her and cried into her graying fur. She sensed the heartache of that journey and always made herself available to anyone in the family needing an extra dose of love.

Just before the pandemic, Sam showed significant signs of illness. Her age had caught up with her. At the point she stopped eating and drinking, we made an appointment at the vet. Within a couple of hours, the veterinarian relayed the news we least wanted to hear...cancer. The cancer was aggressive and nothing could be done. My wife called and shared the diagnosis and the vet's recommendation. To save Sam from suffering, we needed to put her to sleep.

I cried.

I drove quickly to the office, my wife and 6 kids were already there (we had two more since the time Sam joined our family). We gathered around Sam and said goodbye with final hugs and tears. Her tail, once a joyful wagging appendage, now barely rose. I ushered the family outdoors and then joined Sam and the doctor in the examination room. The veterinarian gave me a moment to say my final farewell and then injected Sam with a drug. I watched as Sam breathed her last and strolled across the Rainbow Bridge. The Vet slipped out of the room, and I buried my head into my dog's side and wept. I had owned several dogs in my lifetime, but none had stolen my heart like Sam. Maybe it's because she had been there through some of life's greatest blessings and weathered with us some of life's greatest hardships. I don't know what it was, but Sam and I had a strong bond.

As I type this, tears are clouding my vision. She's been gone almost 2 years and I still miss her. Occasionally when I get home from work, I expect Sam to meet me at the door and follow me around the house until I sit down to relax. Since she's not there, I often feel the weight of her absence. Though she never earned an actual salary, other than room and board, she served as a counselor and protector, two roles of a priceless nature. I realize that our family didn't officially rescue Sam, but she needed a home and she was the kind of dog our family needed for the long haul. I guess you could say, Sam rescued us.