When Sam first
came to live with me, no one had a clue as to what breed he was. He looked
poodle-ish. Maybe a Maltese? I’d never had a small dog before, so they’re all Maltese
or Yorkies to me, because those are the few small breeds I can name; though I’d
have trouble recognizing one if it bit me.
Curious as to
his lineage, I had Sam’s DNA analyzed through
Embark. The initial results provided
were a bit confusing to me:
·
50% Alaskan-type Husky
·
14.4% English Setter
·
12.5% Beauceron
·
11% English Toy Spaniel
·
5.1% Greenland Dog
·
4% Basenji
·
3% Gray Wolf
With a couple
of exceptions, these are all large dogs. Sam weighed 15 pounds. A questioning email to Embark resulted in an
immediate response that something had been transposed in the reporting, not the
lab analysis, and a new report was sent in a few days. This report was much
more in keeping with the dog I knew:
55.8% Cocker
Spaniel
12.5% Jindo
11.3% English
Cocker Spaniel
20.4% Supermutt
Embark says
“Some dogs descend from other dogs that were themselves mixed breeds. These
dogs can give small contributions to the ancestry of your dog, so small that
they are no longer recognizable as any one particular breed”. They refer to
this conglomeration as Supermutt. In Sam, they found some Yorkshire Terrier,
Maltese, German Shepherd, and Pug.
Yorkshire
Terrier and Maltese! My generalized guess had some lucky basis to it! No
poodle, though. The Jindo breed originated in Korea and so did Sam, so that seemed accurate, as well. In the Embark report, they provided pictures of dogs in
their database that were related to Sam to some degree. One of them, a Cocker
Spaniel named Moon Li, who was adopted from the meat trade industry in Korea, shared 21% DNA with Sam.
The Korean
connection is interesting, because that is where Sam’s life began. He lived
in two countries, five cities, and at least five homes, that I know of.
He came to live
with me a roundabout way. He was born in Korea where his previous owners found
him. Korean nationals who relocated to Pittsburgh years ago, they’d gone back
to Korea about eight years before to visit family where they found this dog
being abused, so they took him! They brought Sam (whom they had named Simba)
back to their home in Gibsonia, a township outside of Pittsburgh. He lived
there, doted on by his family. But about two years ago, he got out of the house
and was missing for four months. His owners searched for him and posted around one
thousand posters all around Gibsonia looking for him, but without success. Four
months later he was found by a construction crew, collapsed from exhaustion and
hunger, on the side of a road. Gibsonia is an upper middle-class area, with
wooded areas giving it a rural feel, but with many busy highways leading into
Pittsburgh. It’s a miracle Sam lived through the experience. If the wildlife
didn’t kill him, cars and trucks should have. But somehow, he survived.
My dad was
keeping Sam for his neighbor, Laura, who was watching him for her former boss,
who was having some health problems and unable to care for Sam. However, when
Laura brought Sam home, her cat took one look at Sam and bit Laura! So, my dad
took him in for what was supposed to be a short time but wound up being extended,
as Sam’s owners were not recovered enough to take him back.
At my dad’s
home, Sam was safe, and well fed, but since he was a small dog, my 91-year-old
father wasn’t able to bend down to interact with him, and Sam was too little to
be able to jump up on the couch to be petted. So, Sam, still traumatized from
his “walkabout” in the Pittsburgh Outback, spent his days laying on his bed in
a corner of the living room.
Eventually, Sam’s
owners realized they would not be able to take him back, so I volunteered to
adopt him. He joined Lucy and my home on
May 16, 2021. When first introduced, and Sam showed no interest in playing,
Lucy pretty much ignored him. Sam.
When he first entered
the house, Sam was nervous and afraid. I placed his bed in a corner of the
living room, opposite the couch, so he could be alone and not threatened by my
presence, and he laid there quietly. But in a few hours, he got up and laid on
the floor next to the couch, where I was sitting. I took this as a good sign
that he trusted me, he felt safe with me. I moved his bed there, where it became
his permanent space – downstairs, at least. As days went on, I noticed he no
longer slept curled up in a tight ball but spread out a bit, feeling
comfortable and relaxed.
Upstairs, Sam
had another bed, on the floor next to my bed; well, my and Lucy’s bed, to be
accurate. He showed no interest in joining us on the Queen size pillow top
mattress, preferring his inconspicuous, unobtrusive corner on the far side of
the bedroom. After a few weeks, though, one evening he placed his paws on my side
of the mattress, indicating he wanted to come up. He was too small to jump up
himself, so I lifted him up and he settled in the bottom corner of the bed
opposite my side; Lucy owned the top, next to my head. At first, he couldn’t jump
down from the bed, either; but within a couple of weeks, Sam conquered his fear
and figured out how to safely get from bed to floor by using the bed rail as a
step.
He didn’t especially
enjoy walks and avoided grass and trees as much as possible. Which made sense
when I think about it. During his homeless period grass and trees contained
dangerous wildlife. There were squirrels bigger than him! He stayed on sidewalks
and concrete as much as possible.
Walks also
presented another challenge. Sam’s little legs could not match the longer
strides of Lucy and me. He took three steps to our one, so he wore out more
quickly. He was carried home on a number of occasions, and I finally broke down
and bought a dog front-pack carrier, and I even bought a baby stroller at a
garage sale. He never got comfortable with the stroller, but he became more
relaxed with carrier. I think he enjoyed experiencing the world from that vantage.
Sam didn’t respond
to commands at all. At first, I thought it was because he didn’t understand
English, so I tried to learn a few Korean words like “sit” and “come”. He didn’t
respond to those, either. I didn’t know if it was because I was pronouncing
them badly or if he was just obstinate. I suspect it was more the latter than
the former than the latter, though Korean is really hard to speak!
A few months
after he joined our home, Sam had some fainting episodes and was diagnosed with
advanced Congestive Heart Failure. Even with medication, the veterinarians gently
informed me the expected life after diagnosis was usually about six to nine
months. He responded well to his medicines and because of his limited time I
wanted to make sure his last months were pleasant; where he was comfortable and
had fun. I took him camping (he didn’t think it was pleasant, comfortable, or
fun). I took him for walks to the local Dairy Queen (I discovered he didn’t like
ice cream). I got him a Halloween Costume and a Christmas sweater. I took him to a Valentines Party at the local Pet Supplies Plus store. I gave him
lots of treats. Sam loved food. A very quiet dog by nature, he only
barked when it was mealtime. He practically
did backflips! A refined, continental
dog, Sam was quite fond of apples and feta cheese.
On a Saturday
in March 2022, eight months after his diagnosis and within the expected
timeline the vet had warned, Sam had an episode of some sort, and I knew his
time with Lucy and me was quickly coming to an end. I called the veterinarians’
office and after talking it over, decided to have Sam euthanized. Having had times
where his life was not so peaceful, I made sure his death was. I held him, petted him, spoke to him,
throughout the whole process. My brother was with me, and together we made sure
Sam knew he was loved.
Embark identified
him as a Supermutt and they were right. But he was not a Supermutt because of
his DNA. Sam was a Supermutt because of his heart. Despite abuse and homelessness,
Sam was able to trust people. His trauma did not scar him with fear but gifted
him with wisdom. He survived hunger and thirst, wildlife and vehicles, weather,
and abuse. Still, he was able to give and receive affection.
Biblical
theology holds that animals do not have a soul. Only man was created in the image
of God and man was instructed to have dominion over the earth and all that was
in it (Genesis 1:26). I believe this and I hope demonstrated this well with Sam
and all my pets. But there is something
about some animals that transcends mere survival instinct. It might not be a God-given
soul, but it is a God-given something. Sam showed a heart and courage that is
not common in beast or man.
I was blessed
to be given dominion over Sam. Dominion isn’t about domination or power.
Dominion is the authority to be responsible for and care for another. And if
you do it right, you can learn something from your charges as much as they
learn from you. From Sam, and Lucy and all the other dogs that went before them,
I’ve learned to walk in all sorts of weather. I’ve learned to gain control over
my gag reflex while cleaning up from accidents and illness. I’ve learned to
share my pizza. But most importantly I’ve learned that patience and love are
investments with a high rate of return. Even though he was only with me for
less than a year, I reaped great riches from having Sam in my life.
Rest in peace,
Sam the Supermutt. My Supermutt.
