Sadly,
we lost our Sambo just two months after losing Luke. David and I always
joked that Sam was our first child. He had lived with David and me every
place we have ever lived including an 800-square-foot condo in Uptown
Charlotte. Even though he weighed 120 pounds, he was perfectly content to
take walks in the park across the street and to sleep on our bed while we
were at work. He got to go with us to the bagel shop, and occasionally to a
restaurant with outdoor seating. He loved the constant attention. The only
part of downtown living he didn’t like was the street grates. He would go
out of his way not to walk on those.
Sam was big for a Golden – extremely big. But he was a gentle giant. "The
big lummox" we called him, not because he wasn’t smart -- because he was --
but because he liked his naps and didn’t ever exert any unnecessary effort.
Usually when we came home he didn’t even get up to greet us, but his tail
would thump the floor even if he didn’t lift his head. Of course if he heard
the lid of the treat jar rattle he would be on his feet in a second.
But when he went down to the lake he was always excited. That was the one
place he could outshine Luke athletically and he knew it. He loved to sail
off the dock and would swim after the water toy as long as someone would
throw it.
He
had the softest cheeks. I would kiss his cheeks every night before I went to
bed. He was such a funny dog. People thought he was old even when he was
young because he was slow and lumbering. But he had his own kind of grace.
In spite of his size he rarely knocked things over or stepped on anyone. Sam
was an old soul. He could look at you like he knew things. He learned to
understand quite a lot of our verbal and non-verbal communication. If David
and I would ever argue (especially in the early years) he would sit in front
of us and put his paw on our knee. That made it pretty hard to argue
anymore.
He was definitely pampered. Our vet once told me that Sam was spoiled. I
was aghast that she would say that about my Sam. When I told David he said,
"Sara, Sam IS spoiled." I guess the fact that he knew how to open presents
should have been a pretty good sign that he was a little rotten.
He was not brave. I saw a Dachsun back him into a corner once. I always
said he was a lover not a fighter. Then there was the time David’s aunt and
uncle came from Chicago to visit us in our condo downtown. We left the key
for them under the mat and when they walked in Sam was standing there with a
toy in his mouth wagging his tail. Sam never knew a stranger.
The kids have never known life without Sam and Luke. Even with the four
of us here the house seems so empty without our "fellas." We all have holes
in our hearts. That big guy, the big, gentle lummox, gave us ten and a half
incredible years. It’s so strange to stand in the kitchen without his big
paw tapping me for a bite of this or that. So strange to eat dinner without
him under the table. I cried this morning cutting the crusts off the kids’
sandwiches because Sam always came over to get the crusts as soon as he
smelled the peanut butter. You never know just how much a part of your life
they are until they are gone or just how deeply you can miss them. Goodbye
to our dear, dear Sambo. You left us many great life lessons we will never
forget:
Eat
well and often
Roll in the grass on your back every chance you get
Do what you love and don’t bother with the rest
Only growl when absolutely necessary (which is almost
never)
Let people love and take care of you as much as they
want
Take every opportunity to catch a nap
Always be happy to see your family and friends
Love the people in your life just as they are
Sam
Behnke