The one with the waggly tail?
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie's for sale. -- Patti Page
That's exactly how I felt the first time I laid eyes on my Sheltie Prince Sammy Davis Junior Liebman.
After losing our beloved Sheltie Puppy-San Sandy, who was nearly 18-years old, my husband and I agreed to wait just a little while before we got another dog. The holidays were approaching, my father had only recently been placed in nursing home care, and we were just plain busy, so we both thought it best to wait at least a month or two. And, we both agreed that when we were ready, we'd go to the local Humane Society to find our next family member.
Of course, the best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.
Only a few days after Sandy's passing, I was at the mall when I walked into a pet store and saw the little black fur ball that would become my Sam. Naturally, folks working there saw a mark when one of them commented on the tears streaming down my face. A young girl directed me into a small room where those easy marks, like me, and their potential new loved ones can bond. She brought in the energetic Sheltie puppy I had been eyeing, and frankly, the rest is history.
His ears were perfectly folded, the white stripe was perfectly centered down the middle of his long snout, his little round body was perfectly covered in the softest black fur and his sharp little teeth cut into my nose like 20 razor blades when he bounced right on up into my face and began licking away my tears.
This was the perfect one.
But I'd have to convince my husband.
Although we were throwing our annual Christmas dinner with friends that night, I took my husband back to the mall to see this puppy. He made me wait outside, because he didn't want the staff seeing how eager I was if he decided to get the puppy and then negotiate with them.
About 30-minutes later, we were driving home; me in the passenger seat with my Sheltie Prince Sammy Davis Junior Liebman in my lap -- so named because he was a black Sheltie and my husband is Jewish (like Sammie Davis, Jr.). I thought I had been so clever in coming up with his name.
When we arrived at home, we ran our 10-week old baby directly to the back yard, where he promptly ran right into the swimming pool (we think because the pool was covered with leaves, he didn't realize it wasn't solid ground). And, I, of course, jumped in after him. Funny, that memory must have stayed with him for the rest of his life, because he was forever fearful of the pool.
That night, as our friends arrived for our annual dinner, we were excited to have them all meet Sam. By the time two particular friends arrived, Sam was asleep under the Christmas tree, belly up. When the two of them walked in the door, the first thing they said was, "We saw the perfect dog for you today!"
They looked down and saw our Sam and exclaimed, "That's him! Did you get him at the mall?"
Isn't it funny they had picked out the same puppy?
Sammy was just as much my mother's dog as he was ours. By the time he was nearly two-years old, my mother was living with us. He stayed by her side when we weren't home, and by mine when we were. He's the first dog we've had that was mine. By that I mean he favored me; loved me. My husband used to say, "I'm the one who feeds him and cleans up after him, but he loves her."
On the day after my mother passed away, Sammy showed signs of some very strange behavior; trembling, yet stiffly stationary. At first, I thought it was a reaction to my mother's passing - I'm sure he noticed she was gone and missed her. But when it continued for two days, I took him to our vet, who ran some tests and determined he likely had some form of cancer in his liver and/or pancreas.
I brought him home and we gave him the best love, attention and comfort a dog could hope for. And, exactly nine-months after my mother passed away, we had to let go of Sam.
I am of the belief that dog "ownership" is no different than child "ownership."
There are certain commitments that come with raising a child and most of those same commitments apply to the dog in your life. That's how we have been with all five of the dogs we've adopted. We plucked ugly little Button out of death row at the Humane Society in Miami on the day we returned from our honeymoon. Although as a puppy he literally ate and digested two legs off the coffee table, that chomping champ filled our lives with joy for 13-years. Cinder, along with the home in which we found her, had been abandoned and left to die. She was the most well-behaved German shepherd any young family could ask for. Our princess Sandy lived to be nearly 18. She was so loving. We adopted Bear, another shepherd, when Sandy was about seven-years old. He'd put her leash in his mouth and walk her around. Then came Sam, my Prince.
I once heard a quote, “A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself.”
A dog's love is unconditional.
Another quote, "No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich."
He is your friend, your partner, your defender, and you are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.
All of our "pets" have been adopted into our family with love. My husband and I realized, the night we let go of Sam, that we have never actually been alone -- dogs, child, parents have always shared our home with us. We'll open up our hearts and home again to another dog soon, and both of us look forward to sharing our love - unconditionally.
