Wednesday 18 July 2012

Sam

Despite my Swiss Cheese-esque memory one of the more vivid memories is the arrival of our first pet. I'm not talking about that goldfish that died after one night back in Stone Street or the time we looked after that bird or our neighbour's flea-harbouring pooch (Simba), that pet I refer to is the wily, enthusiastic Weimaraner.

It was thirteen odd years ago, while I was still in Highschool when the gray puppy arrived in Earlwood. I remember there was discussion on what to name our first dog. The names Cookie, Max, Rover were thrown around but we eventually decided on Sam (He would also eventually take on the names, Great Stone Dragon and Horse). At that time, the household was busy. The adults were off at work and the children were at school, which meant we had to cage Sam in the basement of our house. We (well mostly Dad) constructed a fence at the base of the staircase to prevent him from roaming up in the house.

I remember my sister and I returning home from school excited to see our pet for the first time after school. We rushed down to the basement and lo' and behold the barricade had been pushed aside and the pup' was no longer downstairs. Lesson #1, puppies that have been recently separates from the litter cannot be left alone in the basement of a Malaysian house for an extended solitary period. We searched the house and eventually found him on the top level in my bedroom. He was cowering in the corner with his big floppy ears next to a bright yellow puddle of urine. The sight of people made him instantly happy although getting him to get downstairs proved a little more tricky. Lesson #2, going up stairs can sometimes be easier than going down stairs for puppies.

Admittedly, I felt a little bad for not being able to spend more time with him, especially during the later part of his life. I still remember the walks, him standing outside the door waiting to rush in, his hip surgery, him eating bees, him killing kittens, him killing blue tongue lizards, him drinking one litre of chicken oil and him sniffing my crotch. Hope we were as enjoyable as you were Sam.


One of my favourite photos of him kicking back on the lawn with a tub of crunchy Peanut butter. Rest in Peace.

"Woof" - Sam