It’s a fact.
Well, it’s a Kevin Horn fact.
Some dogs are people.
Such was the case with my Sam-Dog.
Allow me to rewind the calendar to October 2009.
My daughter, Christa, who was a 7th grader at the Alliance St. Agnes Academy, had been begging me to get her a dog.
As a former farm boy, my standard answer was that dogs belong in the country.
However, on this autumn evening, her request was accompanied by tons of tears.
I gave in.
But, if we were going to add a dog to the family, I got to pick the breed. And the breed was Golden Retriever, the friendliest, most loving dog known to mankind.
I called the Panhandle Humane Society and inquired. However, no Goldens were available.
Two months later, on December 28, 2009, the call came.
“We’ll be right over,” was my response.
Two hours later, we met Christa’s future dog. He was six months old.
A Scottsbluff police officer had found him roaming the streets. Apparently, someone had dumped him.
While the humane society had named him Deemer, Christa changed his name to Sam.
I called him Sam-Dog.
Sam’s very first evening found him in trouble. While I was munching on hamburgers and fries while seated in my recliner, Sam jumped on my lap. Ground beef and potatoes flew everywhere.
Naughty words followed.
Six months later, Christa entered Sam in the 2010 Box Butte County Fair dog show.
Sam proved he had a mind of his own and didn’t fulfill Christa’s commands.
More tears and no more dog shows.
Christa began her studies at Chadron State College in August 2015.
Sam gravitated to being my dog.
Sam-Dog and I began taking long walks together.
Sam would leave his mark be peeing no less than thirteen times on a one-mile stroll.
Later it was pickup truck rides to the country and running along the roadside sniffing decaying items found in Box Butte County ditches.
His jaunts lasted up to three miles.
Sam’s exercise routines would include investigating the Alliance rodeo grounds where he once proudly left his scent by rolling on top of the carcass of a dead skunk.
A trip to Bomgaars for Skunk-Off shampoo solved that problem.
I couldn’t slow down Father Time. As Sam aged, he became less interested in runs in the country or even walks through the city. Then, he lost weight and muscle mass.
He still carried his dignity, though. If he needed to pee, he waited until he could get outside.
His decaying body would require that I carry him back inside the house, as he didn’t have the strength to walk up four steps.
The decision was made. It was time to say goodbye.
On January 18, 2023, he left this life in a calm, gentle and loving manner thanks to the skills of Dr. David Ylander.
Cynthia and I were with Sam as he crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
Sam loved to sleep on our bed and in our recliners.
He loved to watch TV with me.
He loved to bark at the mailman.
He loved to swim at Box Butte Reservoir.
He loved to chase rabbits, antelope, and deer.
He loved to eat people food. Turkey along with mashed potatoes and gravy was his favorite.
He loved to accompany me to the courthouse.
He loved to join me at St. John’s Cemetery near Hemingford during summer mowing projects.
He loved to snuggle.
He loved to enjoy life.
He loved to love me.
He was a dog – but so much more.
He was a furry four-legged person who couldn’t speak the English language.
He didn’t need to.
He was a soulmate.
Allow me to share my sorrow with the lyrics of Linda Ronstadt’s Goodbye My Friend.
Oh we never know where life will take us
I know it’s just a ride on the wheel.
And we never know when death will shake us
And we wonder how it will feel.
So goodbye my friend
I know I’ll never see you again
But the time together through all the years
Will take away these tears
It’s ok now …
Goodbye my friend
I see a lot of things that make me crazy
And I guess I held on to you
I could of run away and left
Well, maybe …
But it wasn’t time we both knew
So goodbye my friend
I know I’ll never see you again
But the love you gave me through all the years
Will take away these tears
I’m ok now …
Goodbye my friend
Life’s so fragile and love’s so pure
We can’t hold on but we try
We watch how quickly it disappears
And we never know why
But I’m ok now
Goodbye my friend.
You can go now
Goodbye my friend.