Samson

People who know me well know that my dog is a huge part of my life.  And not just because he’s huge.  He is huge, but he’s delightful.  Rob calls him oafish and ungraceful.  I find him regal.  He has an adorable face and this way of filling up even the largest of rooms.  Mostly because he’s huge. 

When I decided to adopt another dog, I was still in mourning for Mel, my yellow lab who died in June of 2003.  I hated the empty house feel and while I considered buying a puppy, it was my mother who encouraged me to check out the pound.  Mel was a shelter rescue from the Humane Society in Chico.  I’d had good luck before so I tried the shelter in Modesto.  When I saw him laying there in his kennel, I just melted.  I’m a stupid softy for dogs and after being greeted by an enthusiastic tounge through the bars, I knew I’d take him home. 

We got into my little Civic coupe and drove toward my house.  I was crying, remembering Mel and trying to wrangle a 100lbs dog who had more energy in his tail than anywhere else.  We got home and after checking out all the new places to smell and pee on, he flopped down on the living room floor and gave me a look that said, “Finally! I’m home!” 

He still flops down, usually with a sigh, a small moan and a stretch.  He’s starting gray around the muzzle and has slowed down a bit.  There are times when he wants to cuddle or chase after the little boy next door who adores him.  Soon, he’ll have 2 cats to chase after and that’s when the fun will really begin.