Honoring Sampson

I'm not sure if I believe in the afterlife, but I do believe in love.  And it’s with great love that I write this post.  For those of you who are animal lovers and whose hearts have been touched and forever enriched by a dog or cat, I am reaching out to you.  And for others, what I will say is that it’s my belief that love is love, and that the magic of love is palpable regardless of whether that love is from an animal or a human.  It is still love.

Sampson was a 5 year old, thrice given-up, German shepherd mix in a cage at the CT Humane Society.  The year was 1997 and I had only lived in Westport for about a year, having purchased my house the year prior.  I had planned to adopt a dog and like most people, wanted a young dog or a puppy.  So, that was what I was looking for when I walked into the Humane Society on the Post Road.  For those of you who may remember back to before it was rebuilt, the Humane Society in those days was a small, dark, brick building.  While the staff did a great job, the building was still somewhat rundown.  And yet inside that old building I found the most beautiful gift, my beloved dog Sampson.

Sampson was at the very end of the dog run, in a cage way at the back.  Unlike all the other dogs up for adoption, he was not animated and friendly.  It was as if he knew his chances for adoption were slim, since he had been given up three times prior.  He may have realized what many people don’t, that a dog who is given up by a family due to that family’s change of heart, usually ends up with a black mark against them.  Potential adopters will shy away, worrying that there is something horribly wrong with the animal because they were “returned.”  Especially a big older adult dog like Sampson who was mostly German shepherd, had some scars, a few chipped teeth, and didn’t wag his tail.

Needless to say he was in danger of euthanasia, and it broke my heart to think of that poor dog never being given a fair shot.  So against the advice of my friends and family, I brought him home.   At first he was sullen and lethargic, since he didn’t know me or what my intentions might be.  I also had two cats, which added even more stress into the mix.  Both Sampson and I seemed to be thinking the same thing as we looked into each others eyes: “Could this possibly work out?”

Fast-forward to a year later, at which point my Sampson had proven himself to be a most spectacular boy.  Once he knew he had a real home, had two good meals a day and lots of love and kindness, his personality blossomed.  He was affectionate, patient, and so sweet with the kitties.  He constantly wagged his tail.  It was wonderful to see him open up, to see him put on weight, to see him joyfully chase the squirrels and frolic at Winslow Park.  Now that he was safe he was able to play and rejoice on a daily basis, a skill that dogs have in spades.

Sampson was my stalwart companion for eight important years.  He saw me through my adjustment to Westport, a subsequent move to California, a hopeful engagement to a man I loved and then a broken heart when things didn’t work out.  He helped to get me safely back to the East coast and was by my side as we transitioned into our next house.  He helped me when I adopted another dog named Spanky, teaching young Spanky some manners, and teaching me the virtue of patience and hope.

And so it was on April 25, 2005 that I had to put my Sampson down due to an untreatable cancer.  It is a very difficult remembrance indeed, and as the anniversary of that day is coming up - I felt compelled to write this post.  I want  to honor his loving soul, his unwavering loyalty, and his beautiful spirit.  And so this is for you my Sampson, and for anyone else out there who has ever loved and lost a pet.   My greatest hope is that my big boy up in heaven knows just how very, very, very much I still love him.