Sam
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It was Mother's Day, 1990; I had barely passed my sixth birthday. We had been driving for what a I perceived as hours, but in actuality amounted to no more than thirty minutes. I knew not where we were going, nor what or who would greet us once we reached our destination. Unbound by the parameters of reality, my imagination led me on a different course as I quietly stared at the passing scenery outside my window. My parents had underestimated me, and I reasoned that there must be some glorious surprise awaiting us at the end of our journey. I had imagined that we would find something wonderful, but not even the wild jaunts of a child's imagination could predict just how wonderful this surprise would prove to be.
The little white Dodge jolted and rocked as my father maneuvered it down the narrow gravel driveway and slowed to a stop in front of a quaint brick house. I glanced across the backseat at my sister, then approaching her third birthday, who had been asleep for the majority of our trip. Understandibly cranky, she cried out in frustration and my mother tried in vain to calm her. Meanwhile, I watched with a great deal of interest as my father left the car and was approached by an elderly gentleman wearing a red plaid shirt and dusty, faded overalls. They exchanged greetings and conversed for several minutes before my father returned to the car and gave us permission to join him and the elderly man.
As he led us to the old blue pickup truck, the man's age became evident in his movement which was slow, deliberate, and showing signs of arthritis. I stood at the back of the truck, too short to glimpse what might be concealed in the back of it, and felt the disappointment settling in. Suddenly, a noise from inside the bed of the truck caught my attention. I must have looked surprised because my mother smiled and reached down to pick me up so that I could see the source of the odd sounds. As I was lifted higher, the puppies came into view - two, three, four, five. Five squirming Rat Terrier puppies that seemed just as excited to see me as I was to see them.
They ran up to us as we watched them, and one of them busied herself licking my face. I felt the connection instantly and knew that there was no way I was leaving without this puppy. It took quite a bit of pleading on my part, especially since the puppy was supposed to be a Mother's Day gift for my mother and she would be the one to choose which puppy we would take home. Finally, I succeeded and the little black and white squirmy puppy now named "Samantha" came home with us. And so began a friendship that would span over a decade and would come to be regarded as one of the most rewarding times of my young life.
So, what happens when you mix a curious six year old and a stubborn, yet equally curious Rat Terrier? One word - trouble! Together, the two of us explored the woods behind our house, fought imaginary "bad guys," and terrorized the neighborhood cats. Of course, my mother didn't always appreciate our explorations, and had forbidden me from leaving the safety of our backyard unless accompanied by an adult. I did not always listen to my mother's warnings, though I probably should have. One afternoon, I decided that I was "grown up" enough to explore the woods by myself and I soon became lost. I had wandered into a swampy area of the forest that I had never been to before. The thick, grey mud clung to my shoes, making it increasingly difficult to walk. Tired and frightened, I climbed onto an old tree stump and hugged my knees to my chest and cried. I had not told anyone where I was going (I would have been a fool to do so), and nobody had any idea where I might be. I sat on that old tree stump for what seemed like an eternity before I heard a rustling in the bushes a few yards from where I was sitting. My imagination conjured up countless images of the creature concealed in the bushes and I tried desperately to make myself smaller, less visible. Just when I expected a hideous monster of unimaginable evil to spring from the bushes, a small white snout pushed away the branches and slowly a body emerged from within them. It was Sam, much to my relief. She had managed to find me, even though I had undoubtedly wandered far away from home, and managed somehow to lead me home. I believe that Sam saved my life that day for there is no way of knowing how long I would have been lost in those woods had she not found me. Was it coincidence? Maybe. A miracle? Perhaps. But I believe it was the bond created between person and pet that led her to the very spot where I was that day and nobody could convince me otherwise.
I miss the days when it was okay, and even expected, to be carefree and reckless, but as time inevetibly progressed, I got older and my priorities changed. The bad guys had been vanquished, and our outdoor explorations soon ceased as I crossed the threshold from child to teenager. Sam grew older also and was more than happy to assume the role of "couch potato." We still had our adventures, but they were of a much different sort.
As time passed, it soon became evident that Sam might enjoy having a playmate and companion. In the spring of 1996, a sassy little Chihuahua named Cricket joined our family. She and Sam soon developed a close bond and became almost inseparable. When Sam developed diabetes and susequently became blind in 1999, Cricket acted as her eyes, guiding her around obstacles and alerting her of any danger. A tragic accident claimed Cricket's life all too soon and she left us for Rainbow Bridge almost a year later. Sam became depressed and for the last year of her life she would never be the same.
In May 2001, my family made the difficult decision to allow Sam to join Cricket at Rainbow Bridge. She had been suffering from diabetes and blindness for almost two years and had been battling liver cancer for nearly a year before it became obvious that she was enduring a great deal of pain. Throughout my life she had protected me from monsters - under-the-bed monsters, in-the-closet monsters, and various other creations of my imagination, but nobody could protect me from the monster of death. The spring day had started out beautifully, but seemed to correspond with my emotions as the weather turned to rain. I said my "good-byes" as I stood beneath the crepe myrtle that so beautifully marked her final resting place and, like the rain that poured around me, my tears fell.
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