With our feet in the sand, a warm wind, and water lapping at the shoreline I wrote.
Sampson could jump from standing still over five feet high. He often fetched his dinner from the upper cabinets in the kitchen. And nothing was safe on the counter...or in the toaster over. One day I came home to find the toaster oven door open, the plate still on the rack, and the cupcakes all gone. He would chew just a small hole in the potato chip bag and empty the bag. He seldom destroyed the wrapping -- he only wanted the good stuff. When he'd rob the trash, he would hide his "treasures" on the bed. When I came home, he'd run to great me, then run back to the bed and lay across the mess. It was a dead give-away, but I pretended to be surprised to find the contents of my trash on my bedspread. At least he never rolled in dead animals!
Sampson was kind. He once swam with a mother duck and her ducklings in Hyalite Reservoir in Bozeman. He caught a rabbit and let it go, unharmed. He curled with his cat friends and always met new dog friends -- named Bob every time. When we went to get Theodore, Sampson sat by the car and said, "No. I don't want a puppy. I'm an only dog. Let's go now. Mom. Mom. Dad. Let's go." He glared at Theodore who curled up in my lap and slept all the way home. Within days Theodore was his new best friend. When Theo was about 3 months old a very big dog charged him. As though Sampson flew through the air, he was there to protect Theodore. Theo always looked up to his big brother Sam.
I found Sampson through a newspaper ad in Dallas. I called and asked if they had any red male Aussie's left. The man on the other end of the line said he only had one Aussie left and yes, it was red male. My aunt and I drove the always-under-construction-highway from Ft. Worth to south of Dallas. At the ranch I picked up Sampson and asked him if he wanted to go home with me. When I set him down, he turned and ran the opposite direction! By the next day, he snuggled onto the pillow where my head was and slept the night away. He would sleep on my pillow for the next 11 years.
Sampson was not short on marking his territory and that included me. While at tricks class in Bozeman, he walked right over to me, lifted his leg, and peed on my shoe! And again at an impassable creek crossing in Truckee. And as I wrote his story in my journal that last night at the lake, he crawled into my lap, rested his head in my arms and peed on my leg. But that wasn't his fault. By then, his auto-immune disease was affecting all the nerves and muscles in his lower back. It struck me then as it does now that I would give anything for him to have had the ability to lift his leg.
We've traveled all over the country together -- Kansas to see the largest ball [blob] of twine and to Minnesota to see its competitor, an encased ball of twine. We stopped at playgrounds, hiking trails, lakes, and to eat fresh, very delicious, blueberry pie. Sampson always ate the whipped topping and I ate what was left. This was true for everything: pie, sunday's, mochas, anything with whipped topping. Even at home I would make whipped topping for my pies so Sampson had dessert. We both agreed life's too short to omit dessert. I went anywhere a "dogs welcome" sign hung. Sampson's eaten at posh restaurants in Carmel-by-the-Sea to outdoor eateries in New Orleans. Bar-be-que being Sampson's favorite. We visited the oldest family-owned store in the country in Kentucky, ate at the original Kentucky Fried Chicken, and toured the battlefields of the Civil War. Sampson's scaled many of Colorado's 14ers, skied in Montana, Colorado, and California. He's swam in lakes, rivers, streams, and the ocean. He's chased squirrels, deer, and imaginary objects in the Rocky's, Sierra's, and Appalachian's.
Sampson has scarred the shit out of me and himself I'm sure. One day I called home frantic that Sampson was missing in the woods. I asked Jeff to come as quickly as possible to help me find him. Jeff opened the front door and there was Sam. "Dad. I think I messed up. I lost mom." He always found his way home. To me.
During the darkest moments of chemotherapy, Sampson would curl on the floor with me in the bathroom. He would lay on my feet to keep them warm. He had to be touching me. I didn't know then and I don't know now who it was more comforting for - me or him? He would lick my tears and put his paw on my lap. He let me hold his paw. Often we would fall asleep like paw in hand and he would wait for me to get up first.
Sampson had my back and I had his. We were partners, walking together. He was always ready for an adventure, whether it was to the grocery store or across the country.
Sampson died from an auto-immune disease that overtook his lower spine, rendering him partially paralyzed and unable to eliminate. He had a sadness in his eyes. He would get to the bottom of the stairs and look to me. Together we learned an assist to front leg walking. Two days before he died, I spent the day with Sampson. We hiked as much as he would, paddled, and snuggled on the paddle board. The next day he spent with dad and then we camped that night. On his last morning, he was spunky, alive, and alert. We went to a lake where he found and played fetch with a tennis ball. Went for a swim, and ate sardines. After we went to the vet.
I know now that that morning was his gift to us. And later that morning was our gift to him as we held him close and told him we loved him and we all said goodbye.
Sampson will forever by in my heart and part of my soul. I love you "sammy davis jr. jr."
