The Thoughts of Rathbone - Canine Sage - A Celebration for Sam

It was Tuesday morning, and if you wanted to meet Sam, then Tuesday, on the common, was definitely your best chance. You see Sam the collie and his ‘mum’ (Mrs. Williams) were both elderly folks, and long walks had become increasingly difficult for both of them. So visits to the common had become few and far between. Tuesday was shopping day for Mrs. Williams, and her and Sam’s weekly trip to the village shop sometimes included - if old bones allowed - a brief visit to the common, and a chance to meet and talk with old friends. But this Tuesday was different, and if Sam had been able to be on the common today, he would have been tickled pink to see how many of his pals, and their folks, had turned up. Sam’s mum was there of course, as everyone knew she would be. But not the old collie, not this Tuesday. Or any future Tuesday come to that.

It was in the vet’s waiting room - when Rathbone was just eight weeks old and his booster injection was due, that he first met Sam. ‘You’ll be alright son,’ Sam had said reassuringly, sensing the young dog’s anxiety. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Just wag your tail, flash those big brown eyes at the lady vet, and before you can say, ouch! You’ll be on your way home with a clean bill of health and with a packet of choc-drops, just for being a good boy’.

That chance meeting all those years ago was the first of literally hundreds of times the two dog’s paths would cross. And living in the same small village, and playing on the common with the other dogs - at least when Sam was still able - they were to become very good friends indeed.

‘I just had to come,’ explained Mrs. Williams, as the dogs milled around and her friends consoled her. ‘Sam would have wanted me to, and this place holds so many happy memories, especially on a Tuesday’.

Ah! Memories. Yep! Every dog on the common would have their own fond memories of Sam. Because being older, much older than most, it seemed like Sam had always been there. If you needed help or advice... go find Sam. You needed chastising? Then Sam would probably do that too, but always in a kindly way

You see Sam, was quite simply, a Class Act. And his escapades and the stories he told about them were legend. Were the stories true? Well… mostly, would be Rathbone’s guess. But who cared anyway. Certainly not the village canine gang who sat fascinated whilst the old collie told yet another of his hilarious tales.

Not surprisingly, one of the main sources of Sam’s ability to captivate his audience were his stories relating to his part-time ‘job’. That’s right! Sam had a part time job. You see, being a handsome fellow with an impeccable lineage, Sam was (especially in his prime) much in demand to be a dad. It was a role he accepted with mixed emotions. He knew the fees were helpful to his mum, and on a good day, the lady collie he was due to ‘meet’, could prove to be very attractive indeed. But it wasn’t always like that. And sometimes after a bad day, he would say to the gang, ‘Wow, you should have seen today’s bride, I’ve got at least a dozen mother-in-laws better looking than that one. So fees or no fees, there was no way I was getting amorous with that lady’.

So on a bad day, when he didn’t fancy his bride to be, he’d invent an excuse. His reasons for not being up for the job were by necessity creative, and it was with stories about these, that he would often entertain the gang. Among his more plausible excuses was a pulled muscle. (‘No, No, No! Not that muscle’ he would say laughing.) Or perhaps he’d have an upset stomach. Or - and this was his favorite - a panic attack.

Now anyone familiar with the courting position adopted by canines will recognize that a pulled muscle, or any other injury to the back leg of the male, could make things very difficult indeed. And Sam’s well rehearsed cry of anguish, as he tried to do his duty, would be so wincingly convincing, that the engagement would either be called off entirely, or postponed for at least six months. And if today’s ruse was not a gammy leg, but an upset tummy, culminated by emptying the content of one’s stomach onto the neck of a young and perhaps not too eager female collie. Well? if that didn’t do the trick and put the lady off, it almost always had the desired effect upon her owner.

But as Sam explained later, although a gammy leg and a ‘gippy’ tummy were often effective ploys, to be plausible they had to be planned in advance, and advance planning sometimes had its drawbacks. Many the time Sam had successfully limped or (having eaten a bale of grass) vomited himself out of a job, only to discover, too late and to his chagrin, that his would be paramour was that young lady up the road he’d been fancying for years.

‘The advantage of a panic attack however,’ said Sam ‘was that it was an excuse he could call upon instantly’. He could have a good look, and if he didn’t fancy the lady, he’d simply start shaking like a leaf and frothing at the mouth. And sure enough, dear old Mrs. Williams, who was totally convinced that Sam could hear a storm brewing in the South of France, would immediately cancel the proceedings. ‘He can’t help it, the poor boy,’ Mrs. Williams, would say. ‘We’ll just have to try another day. There must be a storm coming, he’s been terrified of thunder ever since he was a puppy’.

Ah memories? Yes, Rathbone would miss the old dog, no doubt about that. But he’d not be shedding any tears, Sam wouldn’t want that. Rather… he’d remember the fun.

As still more dogs and their folks arrived on the common, and as brave words mixed freely with unconcealed tears, Rathbone found himself looking at… Sam’s tree.

It was a mature oak, and had been christened ‘Sam’s tree’ by Mrs. Williams on the day that a very young Sam had stopped squatting like a girl, and had for the very first time in his life, cocked his leg like a man. And as he looked at that tree, Rathbone was reminded of his last conversation with Sam. It had been just a week or so ago.

‘I’ve had enough, Rathbone,’ Sam had said. ‘I’ve had a great life, in a good home, with a loving mum, and made lots of friends, but now it’s time for the big adventure’.

The old collie’s health had been declining for a long time. And more and more of his mum’s pension was being spent on vet’s bills. She didn’t complain, of course, she never would. But it didn’t rest easy with Sam. ‘And it’s not that I’m going to get better is it? said Sam 'Just old bones getting older’.

And it was then, realizing that Sam’s mind was made up, and knowing he would never see his pal again, that Rathbone made his promise.

And Sam’s mum? Well at first she’d break her heart, of course she would, but she wouldn’t let him suffer. And after a while, after the tears had abated, she would remember the fun times too.

Yes, thought Rathbone, wagging his tail as hard as he could, and making his way towards Mrs. Williams. I will miss old Sam a lot. But right now, I’ve got a promise to keep, and a lady to comfort.