Samson was a tiny pup when we got him in 87, 8 weeks old, pink belly, cuddly. He grew up to be an 85 lb typical lab, with a typical destructive otter tail but with a personality that transcended even a lab - such a sweet dog and so biddable. He and I had a connection that went way beyond dog and mistress.
There is a wildlife refuge near my house that where I walked him almost daily. We did about 2 miles a day, maybe more. We both loved it, I loved to see his joy in swimming, or sliding on the snow and he, in doggy fashion, just loved it like he loved everything.
Samson died when he was 15, a grand old age for a dog but it was just after 9/11 - I was traumatized from being in the air that day, and moving houses, and husband's health issues. He was my link to ...I don't know...something good I guess. I just adored that dog.
Today, for the first time in 5 years, I walked up to that wildlife refuge and could be there without crying. I owe it to myself to keep walking, to keep in shape for when another Samson comes along and wants to have long walks everyday.
5 comments:
I found this when I had to say goodbye to my beloved friend, and wanted to share with you: I found it (if I recall) in a book called "The Search for the Perfect Dog."
"There are profound relationships between people and dogs; a legacy a dog can leave with a man. These noble and heroic animals have helped me to tame the restlessness and confusion of my middle years and soften the sorrows and bewilderments of growing older in a world that seems to be only growing younger. I have learned that when I begin to feel overwhelmed by the world around me, I can turn away from the inanimate things that so easily influence my life – the televisions, the radios, the newspapers, the computers--and return to the living things. For here I will find the peace I seek, the contentment I long for, the perfection I so desperately desire.
For some, this kind of peace may come from digging in the garden, walking along a vibrant shore line, or rising and falling above the gallop of a horse. For me, it has always come from having a dog by my side. Often disguised by their simplicity and grace, these living things are all around us, all too willing to help us on our journeys. And in a time when so many of us have lost faith in our fellowman, perhaps it will be these living things that will create a bridge, a safe crossing to a place of compassion, tolerance, and understanding of our own kind. For me and countless others, dogs will always be a sanctuary, a safe harbor. A place to go when the world seems too big, the demands too great, and the rewards too small.
I will forever be grateful for the gifts, comfort, and love they have so freely given me.
I am a lucky man."
Margie - Thank you so much, made me cry but...you know what it is like if you've had and loved a dog. I know that it was wise not to try to replace him right away, and that someday I will find his soul again. But it's hard waiting!
One who hasn't really loved and communed with a dog just can't understand what it means to have that special relationship. The dog is not a "pet" and I am not it's "master". The animal to human bond is so unique, so special that it cannot be explained to someone who hasn't had it. It's like trying to explain falling in love.
When Samson died, there were many who told me "it's just a dog" but many others who truely understood what I had lost.
Thanks again Margie, I really appreciate it,
Mim
I still cry about a cat from 12 years ago every now and again, and my dog from when I was 12.
And yes to your last paragraph. Can't really add more because it's been said far more effectively than I could say it.
now you have me crying too.
people who say 'it's just a dog' should be shot!
my snuffles is in my heart,part of my soul, my everything to me.
Ny dad, who is usually taciturn to the point of rediculous, will always have a special place in my heart (aside from the dad spot) because when he heard that Samson died, he cried also.
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