To know him was to unconditionally fall in love with him. I did. From the moment I saw his crooked white markings down the middle of his perfect face on the breeder website, I knew he was my puppy.
He'd get so excited when he saw you that he peed just a little. He was terrified of balloons, and with a soccer ball, he made Air Bud look like an amateur. Squeaky toys were forever his addiction. He could always jump higher than anyone expected, and food on any ledge was always his one vice and challenge.
He was obedient, loyal, loving, and patient. He never ran away from home even when he had the chance. He was smarter than your average dog, intuitive, submissive, and kind. I loved that he never needed us, but wanted us instead. He chose to be our dog.
These last golden years here on the Golden Coast were the glory days for him. He went for long romps on the beach, never needing his leash, always close on my heels. He loved to chase seagulls, and even waded a few tide pools!
In all of my loneliest days and hours in the past 12 years, he was my constant companion. Always within eye shot, I never left a room without him close behind. I always knew where he was, and vice versa.
He was a constant source of comfort, unconditional acceptance, and presence. He was my first baby before I had my real babies. He loved me more than anyone else. (Everyone knew it. We even tested him on several occasions. I always won.) I was his protector, and he kept Joey's side of the bed warm on the nights Joey was gone.
To say he was a good dog is an understatement. To say he was the best dog ever doesn't even come close to truth. He was one of many small gifts from the Lord in my life, and I pray he never felt neglected or unappreciated.
Rest in peace, my pup. I pray you actually get to catch all the rabbits you want in heaven.
Samson 2/2005-3/23/2017
