Wednesday, September 11th, 2013...10:48 PM
Ah, no one wants to write this.
Thirteen years ago this week, I brought Sampson home.
Tomorrow, I let him go.
I was hoping against hope, when we went in to the vet–esp. when he said he didn’t seem to have any bony masses anywhere… I think, though, I knew, even earlier this week that something was different.
I needed those xrays. Even though I can see it on his face that he just isn’t “there” anymore, that that little piece that makes him him was dimmed… somehow, I needed those films. And I still do. The bastard ate all his dinner tonight and washed his face on the rug, just like normal. He picked out his pills (why did I give them to him?), just like normal. He tried to hump Sadie while we were picking out urns, for fvck’s sake.
But I know that those moments are small–and a small portion of each day. And they will only get smaller in the next couple of weeks.
So please, don’t let me chicken out.
The waiting is hard. Forget the fog, it’s doubt that creeps in on little cat feet.
11 Comments
September 11th, 2013 at 10:57 PM
I just saw your previous post and hoped not to see this news. Thinking of you. I know I can’t make it better, but know that all of us are here for you to lean on. This stuff just sucks and it hurts to see your baby hurt. Sam has been such an inspiration and has shown everyone just how tough a senior tripawd can be. After hearing all your stories, I know you have some great memories to help you smile through the tears.
Blessed be-
Luanne and Spirit Shooter (who is there to greet Sam at the Bridge)
September 11th, 2013 at 11:02 PM
Well, this isn’t really the update I wanted to hear about your SamDog. But, having been where you are now, I will tell you this: you know Sam better than anyone. Better than your family, your friends, the vet, and the x-rays you got. You know what is best for your boy. You are his advocate, and even though it is the hardest thing in the world to do, you are the one who loves him so much that you have to make the tough decisions.
Our boy Max was up and down for about the last month of his life. And when I say “up,” I mean UP!! There were days where I thought I was crazy, thinking the end was upon us. We took a wonderful 3 day trip with Max, and 9 days later we had to make the decision to let him go. You never would have known Max was ill in the days leading up to his last day. That is how quickly this disease can change things.
If you feel this is the right thing to do for your boy, then it’s the right thing to do. We could tell with Max when the time came, and so many others in this community have said the same about their babies. Do what you feel is best for Sam. That is the right answer. Whatever your choice is, it will be made because you love him more than anything else. We’ll be keeping both you and your boy in our thoughts.
September 11th, 2013 at 11:02 PM
Megan, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry we are.
There are no words that can express our sorrow at losing such a fabulously insane, devil-may-dare crankypants old fart like Sampson. The world will never be the same.
{{{{{{{hugs}}}}}
September 11th, 2013 at 11:08 PM
Oh Megan, I’m so sorry, we are all thinking of you. I think they hold on so long just for us. We have to give them the okay to go to that bridge and wait. They don’t think we’re strong enough and they are probably right most of the time.
September 11th, 2013 at 11:18 PM
Megan,
So sorry about Sam. It was to me the hardest thing in this whole journey to let Maggie go. You know your Sammy best and you will do what’s right.
Penny
September 12th, 2013 at 12:10 AM
Oh geez, I was so hoping that the crotchety attitude would simply smother the shit out of this awful disease. However, Sampson gets to win because cancer has not changed him. He is himself, his cantankerous, funny, oddball, delightful self. Of course, that doesn’t make any of this any easier.
I am sorry. I am grateful he gets to go on his own terms, unchanged and full of piss and vinegar. He is so huge that I know the emptiness will be profound. In some respects, though, even that’s as it should be. The absence of a presence that large has to leave a mark.
Sampson, I wish I had met you. I already love you. I just wish I could have told you face to face.
Shari
September 12th, 2013 at 1:06 AM
It’s not something you “talk yourself into…..or talk yourself out of”……it’s a gut deep knowing. If that’s not there…then you know. If it is there, then you know.
You can opt for more time based on your relationship with Sam and knowng him so well.
You can decide not to opt for more time based on your relationship with Sam and knowng him so well.
You and Sam are an incredible inspiration to us all
Surrounding you with love,
Sally and Happy Hannah
September 12th, 2013 at 8:08 AM
Oh man. We are SO going through the same thing today. Although I think you may be a little further along in your decision making than I am. Actually, last night I went to bed thinking that today would be the day. I even had a phone call this morning from the Lap of Love Vet who I called for a potential at-home appointment today.
Yesterday was a very bad day for Nesta, but today it’s a different story. We’re in the midst of the ups and downs I guess.
Well, I am so proud of you for being so strong and knowing what is best for your Sampson. I hope that I can be as strong for Nesta.
Sending you lots of love and comfort today….
Kassi
September 12th, 2013 at 8:11 AM
I saw this post and went back to read the last few first. It sure sounds like his momma knows something is far different this time or these times around. He is one heck of a fighter! He has always battled multiple issues and bounced back or at least readjusted his normal. Now, though, your words and his description are that he’s tired. He’s done fighting. He can’t fight. Well, as you allude, he could fight and would, but the energy isn’t there. Will he bounce back this time? That’s what you’re wondering? It reads like no. He has one heck of life and a lifetime of love and stories. No regrets. What a pal. What a guy. Some say it’s best to free them when there’s still a small glimmer, that way there’s just that less suffering. Oh Sampson. I’ve enjoyed watching you and hearing your adventures. Have a fabulous day. Live it up. Be loving, but be obstinate. Be kind, but be a turd. Be a little spunky, but be a little rude. It’s your day, buddy. Tomorrow, mom and dad will give you the greatest gift of all.
~ Katy & Jackson
September 12th, 2013 at 8:33 AM
we know our babies, our buddies, our snugglebutts better than anyone… and when we reach that point, we just know… we know cause we see it in their eyes, we see it in their brow, in the ears drooping, and in both of our hearts.. theirs and ours…. we just know.
The other signs tell us that it is time, the raspy breath, etc.. but there are moments where we see them act the same ol’ crotchety, happy self and we think.. hey.. maybe it is not time… but… we know.
It is one of the hardest things we every do, and the most unselfish, loving, last step that we ever take with our best pals…
and they know too…. they know that we love them to the end of the world and back, and when they look at us with that look that says.. “I’m tired.. I just want to go play”… they know that we will let go of the leash.. and let them run free, join the pack and have fun…
I wish you strength today… and know that we are all with you…
Christine….. with Franklin in her heart♥
September 13th, 2013 at 2:34 PM
No no no no no! I hope you got through this all OK and you’re on your way into the healing process. I’m just so heartbroken to read that Sam won’t be with us anymore.
You’re in my thoughts,
Heather