With a heavy broken heart, I have to report that Chez Snail is now one dog down, after Sam, that doyen of squeaky balls and eaten zips, passed away a couple of weeks ago. She was 15½ and had still been trying to eat the post and see off those audacious neighbours who dared to open their car door or worse, close their car door, up to about a month before she reached the end.
Sam was a rescue. She had been found living on the streets of Newport in South Wales and had been in the dog pound for the allotted nine days. She was due to be put down but was rescued with about three hours to spare. We happened to be at the rescue looking for a dog the following day. I picked up Sam (then called Ripley for no reason) and she put her head on my shoulder and went to sleep. Two days later, Sam was in the car, coming back home with us.
She wasn’t an easy dog in that she was HYPER all the time, but we were given some great advice which was “get another dog, but with the opposite energy to Sam”. So we did, and Sam and Max formed a great partnership, what with Max being half dog, half soft furnishing. Sam calmed down, Max sped up and I think they bonded in a quite extraordinary way. After Max died, Sam went into a decline so, by happenchance, we acquired Daisy, who Sam seemed to rub along with very well.
Sam leaves two squeaky balls (with no squeaks) and what looks like an antler bone but may be a piece of the postman. She is at rest, facing the setting sun, next to her Max, in the raised bed she so loved to climb in and dig up.
To say we at Chez Snail miss her is an understatement. She was a part of our lives’ fabric, the part that used to have a zip.