Beloved dog was faithful friend

This is a story about man's best friend - a dog named Sammy - adopted by our daughter Kelly.

My husband Paul and I met the young boxer 15 years ago, when we were visiting Kelly's Baltimore home. Like most puppies, Sammy jumped and chewed and enjoyed all the attention we gave her.

While we slept that night, the floppy-eared pooch managed to curl up beneath our feet. Imagine our surprise - and apparently hers - when we awoke to her barking at us, as though she had never seen us before.

From that point on, Paul would affectionately refer to Sammy as "that goofy dog."

Not unlike an only child, she was the object of much affection and soon adapted to city life with Kelly and her husband. Her main joy was to accompany Kelly on her way to work in the car where she enjoyed front-seat status.

Upon their arrival, Sammy was welcomed with open arms by the elderly residents of the nursing home where Kelly was the administrator.

Later, the beloved pet gave up her "only one" status when our grandson was born. Much more attention was given to the baby, but Sammy seemed to love him too, sniffing the infant and his blankets at every opportunity.

When the family moved to a home in the suburbs with a yard where Sammy could run, fetch and chase rabbits, she thrived, growing up to look lean and mean, even though her bark was literally much worse than her bite.

The dog also endured patiently the pushing and pulling affection of our grandson, a toddler by then.

Our overnight visits continued, and Sammy would still try to sneak into our bed, though now she was too big for us not to notice. Reluctantly, we would occasionally give in but, because of her size, three was definitely not company.

Life's changes continued when the family moved again - this time into a rural setting surrounded by farmland. Sammy could now play her favorite game of fetch with our grandson, who was older and could throw a stick a decent distance.

One such throw of a three-foot-long branch, immediately retrieved by Sammy, landed me a minor gash across my cheek when "that goofy dog" raced passed me as I sat on a step, grazing my face with the protruding wood.

Eventually, Solomon's Island became the fourth home for the family. Though Sammy lost her large space, she acquired several pastimes, which included frequent rides in the family's boat, chasing ducks whenever she got out without her leash, and barking from the elevated porch where she could watch numerous dogs walk by.

In time, we noticed Sammy was sprouting gray hair and we laughed, wondering if she had observed the same about us.

Later, she had trouble moving - due to her aging hip bones - but she was always excited to go for a walk.

Sammy developed cataracts and lost all of her teeth, but she relentlessly chased dogs she didn't like. She always loved the affection she received from the nursing home residents as Kelly continued to take her to work.

There may have been a bond of recognition between them. Sammy was old too.

With age came the further deterioration of her health. The family's main goal was to keep her comfortable and at home, though it required a special hand-fed diet.

During our last visit, we showered her with affection and rubbed her belly longer. When we left for home, it was a lingering goodbye as we stroked her again for what we knew would be the last time.

Sammy died peacefully in her home three days later.

"He is your friend, your defender, your dog. ... He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion." (author unknown)