My Sammi Girl

It was the end of the school year in 2002--my sophomore year in college.  It was a tumultuous year. The world was just a short 8-9 months removed from 9/11. My Mema passed away in March. I had to drop a class because I missed too much time with being gone for Mema's funeral. I was holding down two jobs while also being a full-time student. It was a rough go for a 19 year old.



And then one day my roommate and I happened to be walking around the mall when we saw the shelter animals they brought out for adoption.

We stopped in and saw this cute, tiny, fur baby. She was an odd mix of reddish-brown and white fur. She had sweet puppy eyes. A big belly. And a little yelp of a bark. She was precious, and she became ours.

The night we brought her "home," we actually went to my mom's house. We slept out in the living room with her and listened as she yelped all through the night--ironically, that was also the night I swore I'd never have kids. This waking up in the night crap was for the birds. Oh, little did I know...

Eventually, my roomie and I brought sweet Sam back to our apartment. She was such fun to have. I remember holding her on my lap as I'd rub her little belly. She became "friends" with all my friends. And even my friends' dogs. She was popular.

She lived with me all the next year. She and I had some good time together. She slept in my bed. She protected me when I lived in the ghetto. We went on walks. I gave her little treats of some of the food I cooked. And we would occasionally catch a nap together. And we always played "tunnel." She would always walk between my legs, stop mid-way, and "let me" rub her sides and belly. This was  our thing.  I loved our thing.

As the next year rolled around and I found myself living in an upstairs apartment again, I knew Sam couldn't handle the stairs several times a day. Even though she was so young, she was getting a "bad leg." She looked like she was in pain. So she started staying with my mom permanently.

As college ended and my mothering began, I realized my sweet girl wouldn't get to live with me. But that didn't make her feel like less of "my" dog. I still loved her the same. We still had "our thing." And I still loved her so much.

My six babies came into the world as she continued to live with my mom. She got a bit jealous when Peach was a wee babe, so since then my mom kept the grand kids and Sam separate.

Sam was a sweet companion to me but especially to my mom. As the years passed, she became my mom's "telework partner." I know they had their little schedule in place, and they stuck to it. She'd wag her tail, ask for belly rubs, "protect" the house from all possible intruders (real or imaginary), and get lots of pets. She was a loyal, faithful, and loving pup.

I say was because we recently had to put her down. Even as I type these words, I can't help but feel overcome with grief. Death sucks so much. It really does. And no matter who you love-- be it a fur baby or another human--losing somebody you care about is just awful.

We fought for her to recover. She was given the best care, but there was just nothing we could do. I felt helpless. I felt guilty. I felt denial and sadness. I knew that her life was coming to an end, but I just couldn't accept it. I fought to believe that she could make a come back. When she refused to eat, I thought maybe she'd try again the next day. And for the longest time, she actually did do things like this. One day she'd seem down in the dumps and sick-like, but the next day she'd be eating a steak, wagging her tail, barking at neighbor dogs, and asking for belly rubs.

It was such a hard decision, but as the days passed she became weaker and sicker. And it got to the point where it just wasn't fair to her. It wasn't fair for me to be in denial that this young, sweet girl was actually 11 years old and in end stage renal failure. She needed us to do the right thing for her. And as much as I would've liked to be selfish, there's just no way I could watch her suffer. Or know that she was suffering. Nobody deserves to pass in pain--and certainly not my sweet baby girl.

So we went with our only option. It kind of came suddenly despite the long and drawn out decline she was taking. I was blessed with being able to visit her on Sunday for a few hours. We did lots of cuddling, pets, drinks, ear rubs, and belly rubs, and I told her so many things I wanted her to know. I told her that she was a great girl who helped me to grow up. She was really my first responsibility, and I think she probably made me a better mom. She was the first one I ever really sacrificed for. I thanked her for always treating and greeting me like I was still her mama despite the fact that she'd lived with my mom for a decade. I told her that I was so glad she could protect Grammy for all these years and that she stood guard at her door--I didn't mention that I knew she snored through a lot of "possible intruders." I told her she did a great job. She served her purpose here on earth--to bring joy and happiness to her people. To live a full life chasing animals and bugs, eating things she shouldn't have but did anyway because she's sneaky, and showing us humans what true, unconditional love is. And for that I am eternally grateful. I know it may sounds silly to feel this way about a fur baby, but anybody who's truly ever loved an animal will understand.

Monday two weeks ago, I got a call from mom about her getting sick. It was getting worse and the only time to take care of her was then and there. Even though I was sobbing like a baby, I gathered my things and headed to the vet's office with my mom and sister. I'm so glad they could both be there. I needed them--I think we all needed each other. We were all able to stay in the room for the entire time, and as she gently passed into the Rainbow Bridge (google it if you don't know what I'm talking about) it almost felt like a heaviness left the room. The heaviness that hung around as we all knew what she was facing, and the suffering she could've endured was now gone. It was incredibly sad and I hated that this is what we had to do, but I'm grateful that she didn't have to suffer. That's what I keep telling myself to get through this.

I'm forever grateful that I got to spend so much time with her that last week. She may not have been at her best, but she was giving it a good fight. Every once in a while I'd catch her acting like her normal self. Those are moments I'll never forget. 

Thank you Samantha Jane, for all your love. You've touched my heart forever. I pray you passed peacefully the way you wanted to. I will always remember you and you'll always have a place in my heart, sweet girl. RIP Sammi.