Sam's Sleep

I eat chili year round, but it is better when there is cold weather to be had with it, true enough. Have you ever gotten a tried and true recipe totally right, I mean just completely perfect, even though you cannot say what you did different this time? Maybe the onion was just the right size, or the green bell pepper, or maybe the one Jalapeno was just big enough, or maybe it was because I used another tiny can of tomato paste this time, or maybe I was just in the right mood, but the chili was perfect. I did put the garlic in a little late, and that might have helped. I’m certainly going to try this again and soon, but right now I still have some pretty good leftovers.

This was my midday wake up meal, neither lunch nor breakfast, nor brunch, and afterwards I lay down to take a nap before going back to work. The Three didn’t get leftovers because onions are bad for dogs, but I did give them some canned dog food so everyone had a full belly. Sam has discovered the very best time to be petted is when Bert and the puppy Lucas are playing, so he got up on the bed to join me while the other two were still outside. Sam, Sam the Happy Hound. He likes a good meal more than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s hard to lose focus on how simple, yet wonderful food is with Sam around. Sam hasn’t missed a meal in almost nine years but he still remembers what it’s like to starve. Each and every bowl of food is precious to Sam. Each and every treat that involves eating is an event worthy of admiration and great praise. There are no tidbits of food so small they cannot be scarfed down with glee. Sam, Sam, the Happy Hound, was almost dead when he was found.

Sam molds himself to me and is instantly asleep. The snoring of a human might bother me sometimes but Sam’s sleeping noises never bother me at all. I know this is the one time in his life Sam is truly at peace, as long as he isn’t dreaming, and he doesn’t have the dreams he once did. The first couple of years of his life he would yelp in his sleep, and wake up yelping as if he were being beaten. Holding him like I’m holding him now helped no small amount, and when he’s up on the bed with me, Sam rests deeply.

A few days after Bert found Sam, I couldn’t find him. He was a tiny thing, just thirteen pound of meat hung of a three month old lab/greyhound mix, and I was constantly afraid Bert would accidently kill him. Bert was gentle enough with him, which was surprising to a degree, but Bert seemed to realize Sam was hurt in a way that defied explanation. Bert would lie on the floor and allow Sam to crawl all over him, snarling and growling in play, and Bert just lay there and took it, happy to have the company. I was sure Sam wouldn’t run away. It was difficult to get him to wander away from the food bowl. I eventually found him in the closet curled up on some old clothes. I curled up with him, and we hid in the closet together, until Sam fell asleep. I kept the closet partially open after that, so Sam could have a place of his own to hide. Sometimes Bert would stand at the door of the closet, ears up, tail high and wagging, as if he wanted to go in, or wanted Sam to come out and play, but Bert never did encroach upon that place. The time Sam spent hiding became less and less, until finally it was surprising to find him in there. Yet there were times I would find Sam in the closet again, curled up in the same spot, as if he were reminding himself of the past. Sam will look at me sometimes, as if I just do not get it, as if there is some message of his life I do not understand, and it is dangerous for me not to know these this thing. Life is fragile, Sam wants to tell me, there isn’t enough food to go around. You should keep some in the closet.

Sam sleeps deeply now. He is anything but a gentle snorer. But there is something comforting about Sam’s sleep. Sam will never be whole, never be totally healed, but much damage has been undo. Much evil has been cured. Death came to get a puppy, but Bert got one instead. We haven’t cheated Death, no one ever does that really, but we did allow on this earth a person who is loving, caring, and gentle, for almost nine years. We took a callous disregard for an animal’s life and we replaced it with compassion. Bert and I did not cheat death, but we did cheat evil. We were given Sam for our efforts, and very little I’ve ever done has been this worthwhile.

I’m half asleep when Bert gets up on the bed, circles a few times, then drops. Lucas follows a moment later by dropping on my left leg. Sam stirs, looks up to see where Lucas is, and then puts his head down again. Less than a minute later his sides rise and fall in an ancient rhythm of rest. Sam sleeps deeply, and if a soul so tormented early in his life can find real peace, there is hope for the rest of us too.

Take Care,

Mike