Samwise Suffers a Rare Injury

I’ve written about how cognizant I am that Samwise and Emily live six or seven years to every one of mine. Anyone who has lost a dog, cat, rabbit, or other short-lived friend knows well the primal heartbreak of having to say goodbye so soon.

This perspective was shaped not only by the deaths of Max, Atticus, and Will. My childhood also is a factor. My mother died when I was in second grade. That was quickly followed by the death of my favorite uncle and then friend Billy Lemmler’s passing. In sleepy Medway, Massachusetts, a tiny place in the suburbs where nothing happened, I struggled with the painful trials of loss. Many of my human friends have been much older, and the many goodbyes contribute to my perspective.

Death is a good teacher. It reminds us of what is essential and what is fleeting.

By the time Samwise and Emily showed up in Jackson, I had learned enough to structure their lives by imagining how they will end and building backward to fill the years they have with rich exper…