This would have been Sam’s sixteenth birthday.
Actually, we’re not exactly certain what his real birthdate was. He came from a litter in Oklahoma and was bought by Allen’s sister as a companion for her and her husband who were long-haul truckers at the time. But they couldn’t keep him, and so they gave him to us in April 1989 when he was about eleven weeks old, and we backtracked to February 1, conicidentally the same day I broke my ankle when I slipped on some ice in the driveway. (We figured Sam’s ying made up for my yang.) He was so small I could hold him in the palm of my hand; even when he was fully grown he never tipped the scale at more than seventeen pounds. But he made up for it by being a good friend and a happy dog, and he’s been immortalized as the Bark Bark Woof Woof mascot with his picture on t-shirts, sweatshirts, and wall calendars (hint, hint).
Happy Birthday, Sammy!