My Dear Sam

The Test Results

My dear Sam—whatever will I do without him?

I've been haunted by that thought since a December blood test. The results came back perfectly normal, but what grabbed me by the throat was his age.

When a puppy comes into your life, you never think of him getting old until suddenly, one day, he is.

Through the years, I've faced death threats, dirty cops, the Russian mafia, mountain lions, bison, and bears. Twice, I've had sepsis and later was told I was not supposed to make it. So death doesn't frighten me.

Let me amend that. My death doesn't frighten me.

Those of us who have looked into the abyss understand and have found peace, but what is impossible to face is losing a soul mate who leaves you alone with a hole that will never be filled.

From

That December night, I woke up to the reality that Samwise had been slowing down. He no longer leads on the uphills and pants more than he used to.

In Moab, he jammed one of his front legs, the one with the minor cruciate tear, while race-wrestling with Emily, and he was hobbled for two weeks.

He's getting old. 

No, he is old.