I was going to do the 2017 retrospective in chronological order, but I changed my mind when our neighbor’s son brought me a tennis ball he found in the yard. I never thought a tennis ball would make me so sad, but there won’t be anyone to chase after it this summer…
Sammy was my Christmas puppy. It was 2006 and with our new house and giant fenced in back yard, I told Jonathan I wanted a puppy. Not just any puppy, a Great Dane! I wanted a big, cuddly, lazy dog.
Well Jonathan was on a mission, except he didn’t like the idea of paying for a designer dog. So he took to the county pounds looking for the perfect addition. It was late November when he stumbled upon a “Great Dane mix” on the Stark County Dog Warden’s web page. He called immediately only to find out he was third in line for this adorable puppy. Cue the Rinehart charm. The Dog Warden told him he could have her if he could pick her up the next day. After more hustling and charm, a friend agreed to pick her up and bring her back to Columbus. Now it was a question of where to hide this puppy for a month so it could be the ultimate Christmas surprise.
Since I have only heard this story after the fact, I have no idea what Jonathan thought when he saw her, but she was not a Great Dane. She was a 40 pound pit bull.
Somewhere along the line he thought it would be ok to keep this puppy at his mom’s house. Oh and did I mention she was trying to sell the house at the time? Yes, let’s keep a puppy at a house that is on the market and ask his mom to care for her, for a MONTH! It’s the part of her story that I never hear the end of…
Fast forward to Christmas Eve 2006 and everyone was in on the surprise. As we traditionally did back then, we headed to his mom’s house for Christmas Eve. The still unnamed puppy was cleaned and donned with a bow and tag.
I walked into his mom’s house to escape the cold only to be aggressively greeted by what I thought was some inconsiderate guest’s dog. My first thought was “who brought their DOG to your mom’s house? How rude”. I think I said a more polite version, “whose dog is this?” I looked around and saw his family looking at me with expectant smiles all over their faces. Evidently the hyperactive puppy that was more like an adolescent, had ripped off the tag and bow. “It’s yours” someone replied.
Yeah, here was a 40 pound dog that was mine. Not exactly the cute, cuddly puppy I had in mind. That is how I came to meet my Sammy Girl. And expectations be damned, she was the best dog I could have ever asked for.
11 years later, only a couple weeks before Christmas 2017, she got sick and left us. And I miss her like hell right now.
We always used to say she was the most expensive pound puppy there ever was. She tore her ACL, had major digestion issues requiring specialized food (and ruined many rugs until), had a tumor removed from her spine, had a spell with seizures and had a thyroid problem. Her vet chart was so big, it made a thump on the table when they got it out. But in her most recent visit to the vet, they said she had many years still in her.
Whatever caused her rapid deterioration, it was a surprise to us all. It happened fast, less than 24 hours that we had to say goodbye. Who knows how long she was actually sick. Luckily the girls got to say goodbye to their dear friend. She was 11 years old, older than our kids, our marriage and even some friendships. There is a gaping hole in our house and a deafening quiet. She wasn’t a barker, but her nails on the hardwood, the jingle of her collar, the thump of her happy tail (the rhythm of her happiness) and even her snoring was the white noise of our family. Jonathan went out for a walk just the other day and almost whistled for her out of habit. Maggie asked one morning, where’s Sammy? And I hesitated, forgetting for a heartbreaking minute that she’s gone.
She was our kid before we had kids. We took her on the boat, took her cabrewing and often took her camping. She snuggled with us on the couch, but only if we gave the permissive double pat on the bed/couch and said “up up”. We lazily exercised her by shining the laser pointer around the back yard from an upstairs window. She was an adept escape artist, climbing the chain-link fence, opening the basement door with her nose, slinking out of her collar when we had to revert to a tie in the yard, and even just wandering away when we weren’t paying attention. When she did escape, no matter how frantic we were, we would eventually be reconnected because she would find her way to people. She LOVED people. One time her escape started with a mud bath and ended in someone’s car, as if the open door in their driveway was an invitation.
Thank you Sammy for being such a great dog, the wuppiest puppy and an amazing friend. We miss you.
