Saturday, March 27, 2010

Revisiting Sam

A couple of years ago I blogged about Sam. Although I've always avoided rehashing my old stories, I have an irresistible urge to share that story again. In a moment I'll explain why, but first here's that old tale.

Sam was a German Shepherd/Airedale Terrier cross. He was a member of the family before I was born (on which side of the family I won't conjecture). He was very protective and gentle, especially with me since Dad had introduced him to a rolled-up newspaper for knocking me down as a toddler. My earliest memories are that I simply had a very large (and longsuffering), self-ambulating pillow. Sam had pointed ears like a Shepherd, but his Airedale blood couldn't support the tips, so even when Sam put his ears on full alert, they flopped over a bit. His coat was black and tan, wiry to the touch. His jaws were massive and his teeth could slice through a ham bone like it was a bread stick. He ate everything. Dad one time tossed Sam an orange. Sam caught it in mid-flight and downed it in a couple of bites. We had a six-foot chain-link fence around the back yard and Sam leapt it like a horse clearing a jump. (Picture Princess Margaret clearing at gate at an equestrian competition - Princess Margaret on a horse, I mean.)

Once my two older brothers and I took Sam upstairs (where he wasn't supposed to be). We led him to the end of the hallway and I climbed on his back, pretending he was a bucking bronco. As I whooped and hollered "Giddyup," Sam calmly walked the length of the hall and sat down with his rear to the stairs, sending me tumbling down seven steps to the landing. My older siblings stood wide-eyed at the top of the stairs, "Are you OK?" I stood and laughed, unhurt. I believe I saw Sam smirking as he trotted past, heading back to the safety of downstairs.

Attempts to chain Sam proved futile. He'd either break his chain or strangle himself trying. Once freed of his chain and over the fence, he'd head for Mount Franklin, a 3000-foot-high faultline whose foothills were less than a mile west of our humble abode. There Sam would hunt wild game, always returning home with his kill and depositing it in the back yard as a demonstration of his affection for us. Usually Sam's kill was a jack rabbit, but one day Sam sacrificed the Willis's cat.

I remember examining the kill. It was a merciful death; the cat had been sliced nearly in two with a single bite. I bragged to Mike Willis (that loathsome bully who was two years my senior) that my dog had made a quick meal of his cat. Then Dad came home and, after talking to Mrs Willis, sadly told us that Sam had to go. We tried to explain that we didn't like Mike Willis, but Dad was adamant.

A few days after that, as Dad closed the tailgate of his truck, we tearfully said goodbye to Sam. Our lamentation was unrequited -- Sam was all excited about going for a ride. Dad was working on a construction job in Dell City (a small farm community fifty miles east of El Paso) and, in talking to one of the farmers, Dad had found Sam a new home. The last time we saw Sam his tail was wagging and his ears were standing straight up (except the tips). His head was laid on the wall of the truck bed on the driver's side and his muzzle was at Dad's elbow in the open window. He was as happy as a dog can be. Dad pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the street. In the following weeks the construction job took Dad to Dell City several times and he reported that Sam was enjoying his new freedom and his position as top dog in that rural community. He assured us that Sam was much happier now. But somehow that wasn't much comfort.

Sometime after Dad took Sam away (but while the painful memory of that wagging tail was still fresh in my mind), we were visiting our cousins in Carlsbad, NM. My Aunt Harriet decided she'd treat us kids (her son, my two older brothers and me) to a Hollywood matinee production, so we piled into her Chrysler New Yorker and she dumped us at Carlsbad's only movie theater. Showing at the time was a newly released Disney flick: "Old Yeller." It was an absolutely mesmerizing story. Old Yeller was almost as good a dog as Sam: mischievous, brave, loyal -- just like old Sam. Yeller repeatedly saved Fess Parker's rugged pioneer family from harrowing dangers. But then the story took a horrifying turn when the "slaverin fits" (a.k.a., rabies) poisoned Yeller's mind. Tommy Kirk and I did our best to deny the truth that was before our eyes, but when Yeller nearly bit Arliss's hand off, Tommy and I had to face our duty. Tommy and I lifted our flintlock to Yeller's crazed muzzle -- Tommy squeezed his tearful eyes shut and pulled the trigger, but I kept my eyes wide open and felt that lead ball hit me square in the chest. Tears streamed down my cheeks, "Why did Sam have to go?"

Despite Fess Parker's best attempts to console us, Joel, Roy and I were still straining mightily to hide our wet cheeks from our cousin when the credits began to scroll. We sniffled our way to the lobby, where we'd been told to wait until Aunt Harriet came to fetch us. A half hour later; still no sign of the the New Yorker. Then through the theater doors we heard Old Yeller's pleading barks, so we happily trompled back up the balcony stairway. It was thrilling to see Old Yeller alive again, but the second time Tommy Kirk cured his hydra-phobey, that lead ball's shattering my still-beating heart hurt just as much.

And now, thanks to my cousin (the one who'd joined us in watching Tommy Kirk euthanize Sam and who recently gave me the most precious gift he possibly could have), now I can truly share Sam with you:

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Spittle Flashback

Has it occurred to you that there's something oddly familiar about all this fuss over Rep. Emanuel Cleaver's "spitting" incident?

What could it be? What could it be?

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Our Family in 1954

A cousin of mine recently shared some old home movies ... included this clip of our family as it was in 1954 (of just the "old" folks plus Joel, Roy and me). In case you didn't figure it out for yourself, I'm the toddler who walks out of the house first and is being held (and apparently very entertained) by my mom toward the end of the clip.

My, my, who are those young people who look so much like my parents?

Monday, March 22, 2010


In 2008 the Democrats had a link on their website that asked people to finish the following sentence: "I vote Democrat because ..."

Here are a few off the top of my head:

I vote Democrat because I love the fact that I can now marry whomever I want -- I've decided to marry my horse and my mother.

I vote Democrat because I believe oil companies' profits of 4% per gallon of gas are obscene, but the government taxing the same gallon of gas at 15% isn't.

I vote Democrat because I believe the government would do a better job of spending the money I earn than I would.

I vote Democrat because I believe Freedom of Speech is fine as long as nobody is offended by it.

I vote Democrat because I believe terrorists will stop doing bad things if we can just convince them that we are nice people.

I vote Democrat because I believe everyone should be required to buy health insurance from the government and no doctor should have the right to charge more than the government allows.

I vote Democrat because I believe no one other than the government should own a gun, and I know that the government is all I need to protect me from murderers and thieves.

I vote Democrat because I believe that the people who can't tell us if it will rain on Friday can tell us that the polar ice caps will melt away in ten years if I don't start driving a Prius.

I vote Democrat because I'm not at all concerned about the slaughter of millions of babies, but we are morally obligated to keep all death row inmates alive.

I vote Democrat because I think illegal aliens all have a right to free health care, education and Social Security benefits.

I vote Democrat because I believe that business should not be allowed to make profits -- they need to break even and give the rest away to the government for redistribution as we Democrats see fit.

I vote Democrat because I believe liberal judges need to rewrite The Constitution every few days to suit some fringe kooks who would never get their agendas past the voters.

I vote Democrat because my head is so firmly planted up my ass that it's unlikely that I'll ever have another point of view!

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Because I Always Do What My Wife Says


(So there! Now are you happy, Joyce?)