Sam has been my friend since 1995, when I adopted her from a shelter at the age of 3. She's 16 now, and about a year and a half ago, her hind legs started to fail. I remember so well her prowess at frisbee catching, how she loved to swim, the many times we went running together, the few times she stole food from the kitchen counter. No squirrel could rest easy with her around, and she just knew that cats were put on Earth for her to chase. More than one person who met her agreed that she could smile.
But the signs are all there; her romping days are long past. She's lost interest in almost everything, and I'm at the point where I don't think I'm doing her a favor by keeping her with me in this life. So tonight she'll keep me company on the bed, although I'll have to pick her up to get her there and she won't like it! And tomorrow, we'll take our last ride together, and if there's a doggy afterlife, she'll be running again.
