Moments will be cherished forever

I’d like to tell you about Sammy.

The golden retriever has been in my life since he was just a puppy. He wasn’t mine at first, but he came to live with me when he was about a year old. He has been by my side ever since.

One of my favorite memories of Sammy is the first time I took him with me to my parents’ house. He was young, but already a big boy, especially compared to my toddler niece Tatiyana. (He has been at times compared to both a horse and a polar bear. My mom said when he lay outside surveying the property with his paws out in front of him and his head held high that he looked like the Great Sphinx of Giza.)

I recall my family being around the kitchen table when we arrived. Tatiyana was in her high chair. When she was put on the floor next to Sammy, she grabbed him by the face with both hands, no fear. Instantly, they were best friends.

Sammy was, above all else, a gentle dog who loved attention. He rarely barked — and by rarely, I mean maybe once a year, if something happened to scare him. He got excited for every car ride. Despite his size — he weighed about 100 pounds — he was convinced he was a lap dog. And when you were petting him, he’d put his paw on your arm as if to say, “I love you too.”

He was the best dog.

Sammy had his share of ailments over the last year or so.

I woke up early one morning to find him shaking violently. He was having a seizure. I thought, in that moment, that I was watching him die. But he recovered after a few hours and never had any other such episodes.

He had to have surgery on his ear after flapping his head so hard that it caused severe swelling.

And just over a month ago, he had a couple of tumors removed.

In each case, he bounced back like a champion.

But a couple of weeks ago, he started limping. I assumed it was because of arthritis because he was old for his breed.

I took him to get checked out. He wasn’t sick, so he was prescribed some pain pills.

They seemed to help for a couple of days. But soon he was limping again.

Then, early Sunday morning, it happened.

I heard Sammy rustling around about 2:30 a.m., so I got up to let him outside. As he made the single step down from my kitchen into my garage, his hind legs gave out. He couldn’t get back up.

I tried to help him. It was clear he wanted to move. He just couldn’t.

I gathered up a couple of blankets and pillows and spent the night lying next to him on the garage floor. I didn’t want him to be scared.

At the time, it felt like it might be a little silly, spending hours lying on concrete, a space heater fighting to keep the temperature above 55 degrees. But those are hours I’ll never regret.

When I got up to use the restroom Sunday morning, I was shocked and excited to see Sammy standing upon my return. I opened the door and he managed to wobble out to relieve himself. But as soon as he got back in, he immediately collapsed.

I contacted Christian Bader and we arranged to meet at Portland Veterinary Clinic. Sammy, always excited for a ride, was able to get himself to the car door. But I had to lift him in. At the clinic, Christian and I had to haul him out of the car and wheel him into the clinic on a cart. Poor Sammy just couldn’t help anymore.

The problem appeared to be neurological. Sammy wanted to move, but the signals just weren’t getting to his legs to make it happen.

Over the next couple of days, Christian and his staff tried to help Sammy regain movement. But when 10-year-old photos of him and me appeared in my Facebook memories Tuesday, it seemed like a sign of what I already knew was likely to come. Those early morning hours lying on the garage floor were my last with Sammy at home.

As Sammy aged, I had always said I didn’t want him to ever be in pain. He lived a good, long life. He deserved a peaceful ending. But that didn’t make the situation any easier.

I do feel lucky that I had the chance to say goodbye. Not everyone has that opportunity.

I was able to take one last photo with him. I was able to hug him one last time, kiss him on the nose one last time, tell him that he was my best friend and everything would be OK, and gently pet his head as he slipped away.

I hope in those final moments he knew how much he meant to me, how much joy he brought to my life. I will cherish our memories forever.

I love you, Sammy, and I miss you so much.