“A Good Dog Never Dies”

My old dog, Sammy, is definitely in his twilight years. I’ll have had him 14 years in January and he was a young dog then, not a puppy. So he could easily be 15 years +. When I first got him, I wanted to call him Spook. He was white, quick as a flash, now you see him, now you don’t. However I was outvoted by the family and he became Sam, or Sammy. He’s always been very much my dog. I recall bringing him to meet my other two dogs, Scruffy and Bruin.

Sammy Bringing Up The Rear As Usual

To ease him in gently I took them for a run on a neutral field along the road. I remember him racing round, then coming back and looking up at me as if to say, “You’ll do.”

Since then he’s been a constant companion, a wonderful friend. His mission in life, aside from looking out for me, has been to say hello to every dog he meets. They sense he’s no threat as he trots up to them, tail wagging.

Now he’s slowing down noticeably. He still gets excited about going out for walks. They just take twice as long to complete. People have got to know him, ambling a few yards behind me and Bran. (He sulks when he’s on the lead and goes even slower.)

My Sammy mission is to look after him all I can, to make his final days, weeks, months as easy and pleasant as can be. He has a whisked up free range egg every morning and though I don’t eat meat, I buy him sausages, bacon, chicken and his favourite ham. His legs have started to go wobbly and he drags along his paws. I’ve decided from now on to take him in the car up to his favourite woods every day where he can wander at his own pace, sniffing at will and enjoying the soft ground. It also means Bran can still run about and get plenty of exercise.

I have the occasional weep as I walk along. I’m so pleased he’s moved with me into my new home as I believe it’ll make it easier for us to stay connected once he passes through the veil into the spirit realm.

So on this All Hallows Eve when we remember our ancestors and the seen and the unseen worlds intertwine, I look back with deep appreciation on his life and that of my other dear animal companions.

I happened across this short poem today which comforts me.

“A good dog never dies. He always stays. He walks besides you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter’s drawing near. His head is within our hand in his old way.”

(Mary Carolyn Davies)

It sums up my thoughts perfectly. I know he’ll always be with me.