We said goodbye to Sam on Saturday. Our little force of nature with the big personality let us know that it was time for him to go. It shouldn’t have been the surprise that it was. Sam was just shy of eighteen. Although I guess the timing of the end is always a bit of a surprise.

Sam’s days of sleeping under the bed had become more frequent lately, as had his bouts of vomiting. His struggle to walk on Saturday set off an alarm. The veterinarian said that Sam’s blood pressure was very low, and that a blood clot was likely. It was time.

He’s at peace now. He can stop looking for Daisy. Sam always went to the door with us when I took Daisy out for her morning routine. He continued the ritual after she was gone whenever I went out the back door.  His hopeful little face looking up at me when I returned without Daisy always tugged at my heart. He missed her as much as we did.

Strange feeling to be without a pet for the first time in over forty years. Freedom in a sense, but that freedom comes with a cost.