Samson passed away peacefully at the vet's office on Wednesday, while I was stroking his furry head and telling him what a very good dog he'd always been.
Lately, he had some difficulties getting up from my laminate floors, but was OK on the slate floor in the entrance where he slept and from other non-slippery surfaces.
But he was clearly old now. He only could walk short distances and would let me know when he'd had enough.
I took him to the vet to be evaluated, without any hope that the news would be good. Dogs have a way of letting you know when they are tired and done.
The vet tech who took him out of the car, said, "he's tired," without knowing why I had brought him in.
And that's what Samson was. The long, hot, very hot summer did us all in, and Samson suffered the most, even with the portable air conditioner I bought for him. It was just a brutal summer.
The vet found a tumour on Samson's spine and also something wrong with his left hind leg. Not arthritis, something else, I was too upset to listen, but it wasn't good.
I knew, I had to let him go.
He was on the floor, I couldn't hold him, but I petted his furry head and told him he'd been the best dog I had ever known. I told him how much I loved him, tears just kept running quietly, I don't think he knew how upset I was.
It was over so fast. Then he was gone, my furry, fluffy, sweet Samson.
And I only stopped crying because I have to be together for Faith.
She sat by the gate in the dog run all afternoon yesterday, looking for him.
This morning, as I opened the dog door, she ran outside, looking, sniffing, and I have no idea how she felt when she found he wasn't there.
I threw balls for her this morning, I took her for a walk, Jasmine came and that was a great distraction.
Now she's sleeping peacefully by my side here.
Dogs don't stay down and sad for long. Such a good thing.
I will write a tribute for Samson, a memorial, when I feel better.
For now, he was the kindest, sweetest, calmest, most patient dog I've ever known .