My Airport Story

Samson only flew one time, and with all the recent airport issues going on, I have been thinking about it. During Holidays 1986 Samson was living with me in Sacramento, CA. He was around 7 months old and would have been quite large by then although still a pup. For some reason I decided to bring him back to Cincinnati for the Holidays instead of kennel him. First, he needed a very LARGE CRATE. On the day of leaving, we went to the airport and the flights were all delayed by several hours all over the country. We had been told by the vet to not feed or water Samson to make him more comfortable for the trip. We finally boarded, Samson went willingly. I don't remember how many legs we made, but our final lay over was at O'Hare in Chicago. It was really crowded with Holiday travellers and our time to connection was very short due to all the flight delays. I rushed and made it on the final leg to Cincinnati.

I arrived to Cincinnati and was greeted by my family and proceeded to baggage claim. It was by then about 11 at night. Many, many travellers bags had been lost, including mine, and NO SAMSON!

There was no one at baggage claim and we finally hunted someone down. The poor baggage person was very tired and I kept insisting that I needed to know WHERE WAS SAMSON! Finally, the baggage person realized I was not going to go away so he made some calls.

Samson was in the baggage handling area of the O'Hare Airport. He had missed his connection. I was able to talk to a very kind baggage handler who was not afraid of rather large wolf dogs who promised to take Samson out to go potty and also find some water and some food for him. I am sure that Samson was forever indebted to that wonderful person.

The Cincinnati baggage handler then assured us, no problem, all baggage would be delivered to our homes by taxi the next day. I kept trying to explain to him this was not regular baggage, this was a rather large dog in a rather large crate and I could not imagine a Taxi driver being pleased to have to make this kind of delivery. He found out which flight Samson would be put on so we could be back at the airport. I am thankful that the very tired baggage handler made all that extra effort for Samson.

The next morning my family drove back to the airport. We waited patiently by the door where large boxes were wheeled out as we were told that the crate would be wheeled out on a cart. Well, instead, poor Samson in his crate was put on the luggage conveyor belt -- the belt that goes round and around. To this day I can see poor large Samson in his extra large crate going around and around on the luggage conveyor belt as we waited over by another area. It was extremely funny.

Samson was VERY HAPPY to see me and get out of his crate.

The trip back to Sacramento was without incident but I have never flown with another dog, not because of this, just because I have never had another opportunity to fly with a dog again.

Puppy Ears

How could my Mother post that picture of me with ears like that! Is there no dignity even in death! We all had awkward phases in our lives and I would prefer to forget that emarassing stage when my ears would not cooperate. First only one stood up for the longest time and I looked so silly. Then the other ear stood up but the original ear flopped over. Finally they both stood straight and tall.

After Mom passes and her ashes are also in a box on top of the filing cabinet then I shall I post stories of Mother's Awkward Middle School Years.

Ashamed of Mulli of the MidWest

Hmph. I am not happy with the dog who has taken Tyler's place. Tyler took my place after I passed. After his passing, the torch was passed to Mulligan. Mulligan needs to learn his place in this world. I Loved, I Worshiped, I ADORED Mom. I LOVED Dad. I TOLERATED the two human brothers. The littlest brother wasn't around yet. I never tried to become Pack Leader. I was quite happy letting Mom be Alpha.

Now, Mom is in quite agony because Mulligan has been trying to lengthen her left arm. Her back is completely out of sorts because he simple refuses to enjoy the shared communion of a walk between kindred spirits. Mulligan feels HE must be in the lead, and Mom must follow. When Mom and I shared a walk, the leash was a bond we shared, as we communed on our journey.

But, alas, it is quite hard to get that thick-headed brute Mulligan to listen to me from over the Rainbow Bridge, he won't even listen to anyone still UNDER the Rainbow Bridge.

What a Reputation I Had

This week Mom and Dad had to go up to Cleveland because my Dad's Father died, may his soul rest in peace, and I look forward to letting him rub my butt when I meet up with him across the Bridge.

Lots of relatives gathered, of course, and Mom saw many she hadn't seen since the last large funeral back in 1993, which was the first and only time she had ever met some of these relatives. I was quite a well-behaved dog and I used to travel to Cleveland with the family on all their trips. There was a Cat named Micha living there but Micha and I had a pact to not bother each other.

A number of the relatives who had only met Mom the one time Remembered Her as THE ONE WITH THE LARGE WOLF DOG! That would of course be ME, SAMSON! Mom had to relay that I had passed on but still, I obviously made quite an impact to be remembered for so long didn't I?!!!

Remodeling Woodwork

Dad is using all the wrong techniques. Dad is removing all the baseboards and woodwork from the Utility Room today. It is taking him quite a long time; he is quite inefficient at this job. I, Samson, was the master at removing woodwork. Oh, that I was still alive and could join him in this task! In my puppy and young dog days I removed more baseboard and door frames than one can imagine. I chewed, I scratched, I pawed. Mom would come home from a day at work to find splinters all over the house. Alas, now that my obsession could be put to some purposeful use I am stuck in this Urn on top of the filing cabinet.

Out with the Old

Out with Old, In with the New. All the work I put into those rugs, all done, gone to &*%$ in a hand basket. Mom and Dad repainted and remodeled the family room and the kitchen. They changed the rug in the family room and the one in the kitchen. They originally bought those rugs FOR ME. Yes, FOR ME. When they moved into the current house I was over twelve and a half years old and the family room/kitchen area was all slippery hard wood. My poor arthritic legs just had such a hard time walking on that hard wood floor that I took to staying in the carpeted living room. Mom hated that so she bought a very nice rug for the family room and one for the kitchen area and voila! I could walk around pretty well again and be part of the family once more. But as I aged, my continency slipped and those poor rugs bore the brunt of it. Mom never complained. She never scolded. She just took out paper towels and other supplies and without an extra word the mess was gone. After I was gone, Tyler came and the rugs were all broken in with my smells (despite the cleanings) and marked as my territory.

Now I guess that territory is gone.

Feasting on the Word of the Lord

Middle Brother received a Bible yesterday at Church in a simple, but special ceremony. It reminded Mom of the time she returned home from work and discovered that I had Feasted on the Word of the Lord. Literally.

Yes, there was Mom's beautiful blue leather Bible, a gift from her brother and sister-in-law, strewn about the house, what was not inside of me, that is. Gone were years of margin notes. Gone were the memories of the times of trouble and of joy in which Mom had gone to those pages for comfort or to offer praise.

Mom said she always wondered what would be my ultimate fate, after commiting such an ultimate, terrible act of youthful destruction.

Leashes back in the place of Honor

Mom and Dad have been remodeling the Utility Room. I can't say I am sorry I have missed this!

My leash, and my follower, Tyler's, leash have hung in a place of honor since our respective passings. I was a bit worried as for weeks, my poor leash lay on the floor of the foyer, as this project was worked on.

But I had naught to worry, as soon as the paint on the walls dried, my leash was re-installed on it's hook, right above where my food/water bowls used to be. Yeah, they still have those too, and didn't "re-use" MY water and food bowls for following dogs.

Birthday Cake

I would like the family's current dog, MULLIGAN, to know that I NEVER ATE MY BROTHER'S BIRTHDAY CAKE.

Checking the next dog's diary, it can be noted that TYLER NEVER ATE A BROTHER'S BIRTHDAY CAKE EITHER.

Mulligan, you should be ultimately ashamed and surely Santa Claus will not be moving your name over to the nice column any time soon.

It's been Seventeen years, can we let it rest, already?

It has been Seventeen years, but a few annoying relatives, not my Mom, of course, just can't forgive and forget the time I peed on the Christmas Tree.

I plead extenuating circumstances. First off, I was 3 years old, and this was my FOURTH Christmas. I had NEVER PEED on a Christmas tree before. I had never peed in the house, for that matter, since I became trained.

Now, this tragic Christmas, I claim undo emotional duress. My first human brother had been born at the end of November. For some insane reason Mom had driven, yes driven, from Fort Worth, Texas, all the way to Cincinnati. But Mom, being the extreme safety person she is, had to stop every couple minutes to nurse the human cribling. Yes, yes, in her defense, I suppose she couldn't do that and drive. The normal 15 hour trip up to the MidWest took more like 20. Add to that the fact that I was forced to lay in the back seat near that ungrateful brat's car seat. Add to that the fact that in almost a month I had been up all night, all day, with the young pup's crying, crying, crying.

We finally arrived at our destination, in the wee dark hours of the morning. The resident German Shepherd of the house was in no better spirits than I. It seems another family sibling had also wielded forth a baby recently so that this poor dog had not slept in the days since that child had been visiting in that house.

Instead of our usual casual greeting, this German Shepherd took one look at me and the unfortunate package (the baby brother) that I had brought. She lunged at me to let me know that me and my newborn brother were simply more than she could bear. I walked into the house past those fatal fangs and proceeded to pee on the tree.

I rest my case.