It was a beautiful January afternoon, just like any other. Our giant schnauzer Sam had walked the kids to the bus and sprinted back to the house to be by my side like every other day. He had a special spot in our formal room on the couch where he could see everything going on in the house, but not have to move a muscle.
Sam was 7 years old, with a few good years left to live with us, we thought. His hips never gave him trouble, he would wrestle with our boys and cuddle with our daughters. He weighed in at approximately 125 pounds. I am sure his heart was what weighed the most, as he had the biggest heart of any animal I had ever had. He was aloof. When he was a puppy, he only ate left shoes. No kidding. For some reason, those were his favorite. Whenever anyone walked in the door he would bring you a gift, whether it was a shoe, a pillow, a sock, or a children’s toy he wanted to give you something.
I was at home with my 4-year-old son and I had just laid our youngest down for a nap. I was watering my plants and I heard Sam moan from his perch. He looked up at me and slowly rolled off of the couch. I thought he was dreaming but ran to catch him. I called for him to snap out of it, and he simply passed away in my arms. He hadn’t been sick. He hadn’t been wary, slow, or tired. He was perfect.
I kept repeating to him, “You were a good boy Sam.”
I realized I was alone, and that my youngest was playing in his toy room. I let myself cry. I cried hard. I cried and cried and just kept petting my sweet, sweet boy. He was my shadow for seven years. He was my furry, four-legged sidekick who never left my side but to play with the kids or my husband.
I called my husband. I called my cousin who has worked with animals her entire life. I called my mom. I was just in shock and weeping. I finally had to get it together when my 4-year-old walked in. He asked, “What is wrong with Sam, mom?” I told him that Sam was sick and he had to go to heaven. He nodded and ran to the other room and brought back my first-aid kit. He assured me that the band-aids would bring him back. Oh, what a life lesson losing a pet can be.
My husband came home and took Sam to our family farm. He made it back home in time to get the older two kiddos off of the bus. We let them walk into the house, get a snack and then we had the horrible talk that no one ever wants to have with their children.
At first, they just broke into tears, then the questions came: what happened, what did you do, where is he now? I wanted to give them the gift of time to process and grieve. That evening we went to dinner in celebration of Sam’s beautiful life and spirit. We let the kids order whatever they wanted and we all split a massive dessert. It was nice to get out of the house and not have to notice his absence so quickly.
Did we handle it perfectly? Probably not. My kids were devastated, as were we. All five of us were grieving a family member who was taken from us so suddenly. Our pets become a part of our daily lives. They are woven ever so gently into our memories, pictures and stories. They teach us all so many lessons: patience through the puppy years, loyalty as they grow, and letting go when we have to move on without them.
Was it a difficult experience losing a pet, with children? Without question. Would I do it again? Absolutely. He taught us all a lesson in responsibility, patience, understanding and greatest of all: love and loss. So thank you, Sam, for loving us and being a part of our family’s story. We still miss you. You were the best boy.
