After dealing with the progressive paralysis of Degenerative Myelopathy (DM) for nearly three years, Sam left us last night.

Sam is the perfect example of why one should never get a pet from a pet store. We were young and had no idea at the time what that really meant.

It is obviously now, looking back after many years of experience with dogs of our own and dogs that are “in the system” at various shelters and rescues that Sam was poorly bred and poorly socialized before he came to us. Still we loved him all his life, and we still do.

Our Sam had “that Corgi temperament” for sure. He tortured his older “brother” Igloo from day one and remained stubborn right up to the very end.

I still remember bringing home this incredibly scared, dirty and ear-infected puppy from the store (yes, a store, never again). He was almost five months old and had lived his whole life in a cage up to that point. Still his giant ears and oversized paws came together with that “little boy look” and won us over all those years ago.

Sam lived life pretty much on his terms. Sometimes he could be described as aloof and anti-social and others he would just sit and cuddle for hours. He would sleep in the bed and fall so deeply into slumber that he was hard to wake up. He gave us a scare like that a few times.

His bad genes lead to two knee reconstructions, one for each side, which he weathered like a trooper.

Then, right around Christmas 2005, it happened. Sam was running in from the back yard and suddenly his back legs stopped working. He dragged them a few feet, stopped and looked back as if to wonder “What’s going on back there?” He got up, and they started working again only to fail a few steps later. Off to the vet we went and the news wasn’t good. Degenerative Myelopathy (DM) was the name of the monster we faced.

Once we got over the shock and started settling in, things really weren’t that bad. Yes, he walked a little stiffly in the hind quarters and needed help with stairs, but with treatments we kept it under control for a while.

Then came the cart. Sam hated it. We also replaced the stairs off the back deck with a ramp. I still see Sam half-waddling, half sliding down it, and pulling himself back up with determination and even a doggie smile. This was without the cart. We only made him use it when he was to be walking across a surface that would hurt him to drag his back half. The little guy preferred to just slide around, and actually got around much better that way. We took the carpet out of the living room and put in a nice slippery laminate floor so he wouldn’t give himself rug-burn and we could clean up the mishaps that come along with not being able to control your body. About two years later, the paralysis had moved up far enough that his back was too weak for the cart anyway.

Still, he was determined. He would scoot around the house, “run” to the door for the doorbell and all the things a dog should do. In March of 2008 though, the paralysis started to take his front legs too. They went fast. We took him to the vet for his regular check up and were afraid it might be his last trip. The vet has better news though; “His front end is happy & healthy, so keep him that way.” It was true, he acted like a happy Sam. He never really lost his positive attitude.

Did I mention how stubborn he was? Mind you, this dog had no use of any of his legs, but we would put him on his bed (on of many that we used to try to prevent bed sores) and he would end up off the bed across the room. Finally, one day I caught him and watched with amazement as he pulled himself along the floor with his CHIN!
Yes, typically stubborn Corgi!

We were glad he had the will to live and the fortitude to find a way to get around. It did complicate things though as he favored one side and as much as we would turn, roll and reposition him he would end up back the way he wanted to be. That made the pressure sores harder to prevent, but we did whatever we could.

We always said that as long as he wanted to stay here, he would be welcome. In fact, at a photo event the Sunday before his last night, we talked about him with some folks and said that very same thing.

Over the last few days though, he slowly let us know it was time. He ate less enthusiastically and stopped throwing his water bowl around with his head when he was done with it. Then last night we gave him his bath. His pressure sores were really bad and we noticed that he would quiver rhythmically. We thought at firs that he might be cold, but then we realized that the quivering was in sync with his breathing. The poor guy couldn’t breath laying on his side anymore, so I picked up and held him in a position that made it easier for him. I never put him down after that until the end.

We debated whether to stay with him during the procedure and I couldn’t stand the thought of him being alone with strangers so I held him while it was done. True to form the last thing he did was bite at my chest, but it was a playful nibble as if to say “It will be OK dad, see you at the bridge.”

And then, he was gone.

We love you and miss you Sam.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….

Author unknown…