A lifetime of dogs, a legacy of love: Farewell to my dear Sam
- col-lee-elliot-aging-graciously
- June 26, 2025
- 619
I have rarely, if ever, been without a dog in my life. Laddie, the Collie was there when I was born. Daddy brought Bounce, an all-white English Bull Terrier, home from England at the end of WWII. Mostly, what I remember about him is Mother chasing and yelling at him. He once removed a whole chicken from the oven door and devoured it in seconds when Mother went to call us for dinner.
Blondie was my first dog, a small raggedy cocker/Airedale mix, so unique. Nothing today could compare with her. She was all mine, walking me to school in the morning, coming back at recess and lunch, and there to walk me home afterward. In those days of no leash laws, Blondie and her best friend Rocky, the large, goofy, red Irish Setter belonging to the French professors at our small college, roamed the town with great abandon.
They were welcomed into college classrooms, the conservatory where I took piano lessons, the local diner that always provided them with treats, other peoples’ homes and even occasionally church. If they wandered too far from home, a friendly bus or cab driver would drop them off at our street.
Gus, the Dachshund, was there to greet me during visits home from college, and then in early marriage, there were the hunters, Susie and Lance, who didn’t make the grade very long. (Are all Irish Setters goofy?)
Our first Collie, Misty, your typical Lassie type, was acquired because middle son was afraid of big dogs. Gentle and obedient, she was a wonder to everyone including a large male Collie from a few blocks over we had never met until we suddenly had 13 puppies. Molly, the runt, moved in with us.
Life changed. On my own in California, I longed at once for a dog and found MacDuff (Duffy), a 4-pound Yorkie who slept in my desk drawer while I was teaching summer school. He was joined shortly by black and tan Collie, Andrew, a combination that just clicked.
When I lost the two of them within months of each other, It was only a short time before I acquired Makenzie, the blue merle Collie, and Tidbit, the Yorkie — Mac and Bits — who moved back to Ohio with me. They were best buds from the moment they first met. When they crossed the Rainbow Bridge, somehow, I ended up with brother and sister Yorkies, Samson and Delilah. Tiny little Lilah left me early, and that’s how I ended up with Samson and Willow, the chewing Collie, about whom you have heard before.
That brings me to the purpose of this column: this week I lost Sam, rather unexpectedly. I am grateful he made the choice, and I didn’t have to this time. I am grateful he is not suffering, but when you love your pets as family members, it is really hard to lose them.
Many people I know won’t have dogs or other pets because they do tend to make messes, and they do tend to make it difficult to travel, and they do tend to worry you when they are lost or sick or injured, and they are noisy.
What they might never have experienced is the unconditional love of a pet. When we take on the responsibility of an animal, we cause them to become totally dependent on us. We become their sole purpose. It creates a unique bond unfound elsewhere.
Willow is grieving too. It is sad to watch, for Sam was her director. His 17 pounds taught her 75 pounds everything she was allowed to do, when, how and why. Believer that I am, I’m sure Sam is now with his beloved sister Delilah and that all those wonderful pets who have gone before are waiting to greet me when I get there. It never occurred to me before, but maybe I’ll cross the Rainbow Bridge to get where I’m going. Rest in peace, dear little Sam. You are loved and missed.