About nine years ago, Sid and Henry came home with a cute cocker spaniel. Sam was just a puppy when Henry needed to have surgery. Sid asked if I could take care of Sam. Since we live right next to each other, she gave me a baby monitor, so I could listen to his antics in the kitchen, while I wasn't there. Who can refuse spending time with a warm, cuddly, tail wagging, happy little puppy. Needless to say, I was over at Sid's a lot.
That early bonding experience made a lasting impression on both of us. I didn't realize how strong, until that next winter, when Henry, Sid and Sam left for their winter home. When they came back that spring, as soon as Sam saw me, he ran over, smiling. Yes, smiling. I'll never forget it. And Sid said, "Oh look, he loves you so."
This happened every spring and throughout the summers. Whenever Sam would see me, he would, first run and as he grew older, trot, over, with this big smile, and kiss me and wait for that loving connection, as my hand would stroke his fur and I would whisper soothing words into his ears. Even after he went deaf, I still spoke to Sam.
We had an uncanny connection. As if we were spirits together in a past life.
Sam grew into a handsome spaniel, with rich, glossy, dark chestnut fur. Always the gentleman, he would trot over to greet our cavaliers through the screen door, then he would either come in, or they would go out and have their special spaniel conversations.
Sid came home a few days ago and I haven't seen Sam. I called her last night and she told me he passed away on March 6. What can I say. There are no words. We cried silently on the phone, together.
Sam was blessed with a home rich in love, belly rubs, play time, food and treats. Sid and Henry adored Sam. He had a good, good life, but for those left behind, a life too short.
Good bye, my little friend. We'll see you on the other side.
