Cherie wrote this letter to her mom right after the Galvez family dog, Sam, was put to sleep. 15 November 1995 Dear Mommy, Sam is gone... And our hearts ache. Truly, Sam was more than a dog; to us, she was a part of the family. As Davy said when he came home from work last night and there was no Sam with her tail wagging to greet him at the door, "The house feels empty; it feels like we're not complete." Sam was put to sleep yesterday morning at 9:15… This is how it happened… Last Friday, after talking options with the vet and talking over the situation with the kids, we had decided that we were going with the “8-week trial,” that is, put Sam on antibiotics and a special diet for 8 weeks to see whether the regimern would halt or slow down her kidney problem. And after 8 weeks, another evaluation and another decision. But then, on Saturday morning, San suddenly went lame in her left leg. Just like that, she was limping badly. Each time she’d put that paw down, it would knuckle under. She must have been in terrible pain because she was extremely restless and couldn’t seem to find a position that was comfortable. She also moaned intermittently, which was heartbreaking to hear. The vet had said to give her buffered aspirin and that seemed to ease her pain. That night when Davy got home, I told him that I was going to take Sam to the vet first thing Monday. And if Dr. Armstrong said that Sam’s pain was due to the leg, then I would have it treated and we would go the route we decided. But if the pain was caused by her failing kidneys, then Sam would have to be put to sleep. He agreed. We woke up Sunday desperately hoping that Sam’s leg was better. But it was not. She was hobbling on three legs and it was a pitiful sight. Especially since her spirits seemed to be high and she even wanted to play fetch. She kept getting her ball and giving it to Jiff, which was a signal for them to play. Monday morning Davy and I went to the vet. He examined the leg and told us that the situation was hopeless. He said that he could take x-rays and do more tests, but he said it was his gut feeling that Sam’s body was falling apart. And then he said, “You really have no choice. The humane thing would be to put Sam to sleep. The only decision is whether we’ll do it today, tomorrow or Wednesday, at the latest. I wouldn’t wait more than two days because this dog is in excruciating pain.” And then he left us so that we could make a decision. I looked at Davy and he was crying and then he nodded and said, “Let’s do it tomorrow so Papa and Jiffy can say goodbye and we can spend one more complete day with Sam.” Davy and I went home with very heavy hearts. I did chores around the house while Davy sat with Sam and stroked her and talked to her. Then mercifully, he had to go to school. And I sat with Sam. Then Jiff came home from school and then Jun, from work. From school, Davy called up and said that we should have pizza for dinner because that was Sam’s favorite food. In the early evening, four of the neighborhood kids who knew Sam best came over to say goodbye. First was Andrew (he’s 10) and then his sister Erika (she’s 15). And then the two little girls from two doors down came with their Dad. Licia (5 years) and Annie (3 years) petted Sam on her head while their Dad explained why Sam was “going away”. It was so very, very sad. Our pizzas came around 7:30 pm and as Davy knew it would, Sam’s appetite came back and she gobbled up all the sides of the crust that Jiff fed her. After dinner, Davy and Jiff carried her to the car and they drove around for about 30 minutes, while Jun and I went on our nightly walk. When we got back, Davy said they took Sam around the neighborhood and to all the places Sam knew: La Salle, Assumption and the area around Victory Park. And they pointed out the houses that had dogs in them that Sam would bark at each time we walked by. Nobody seemed to want to sleep and so we sat around Sam and took turns stroking her while we reminisced about her antics. We brought out her pictures and the kids decided which ones they wanted framed. It was almost midnight when we went to bed. And I didn’t sleep well at all. Jiffy got up at 6:30 am to get ready for school. He opened Davy’s bedroom door and Sam came out, went to her waterbowl in the kids’ bathroom and then hobbled to our room. But instead of going to her “bed” near the window, she went to Jun’s side of our bed and put her head on his arm. That woke Jun up and got him all choked up. In a little while Jiffy came to say goodbye. (I didn’t want Jiff to go to the vet with us because he had three tests that day. When I dropped him off, he told me, “Mom, I’ll try to do well in my tests.” I said that I’d understand if he didn’t.) Finally, it was time to go to the vet. We got there at 8:50 and the vet’s assistant said she would give us some more time to spend with Sam. The doctor came in at 9:10 and asked us whether we were sure this was what we wanted to do. We nodded and he said that it was not necessary for us to be in the room when he gave the injection. I looked at Davy and he said he wanted to stay. I asked him whether he wanted me there, and he said, “No, this is something I want to do for Sam and myself.” So, Jun and I left the room. My last glance was of Davy helping the vet lift Sam to the examination table. After a few minutes, the assistant came out, and she told me that it was done. (Jun was outside.) I went into the room and found Davy hugging Sam and weeping. And then, I started to weep too and that was how Jun found us. He began to stroke Sam while saying over and over, “puppy, puppy, puppy,” which was his special term of endearment for Sam. The three of us were gathered around Sam and softly crying when the doctor came back, put his stethoscope to Sam’s heart and told us that she was gone. We said our goodbyes to Sam and we left her body with the vet. We drove home and as we came in through the kitchen door, we saw Sam's bowls. It started us off again. We hugged each other and cried some more. And then Jun got ready to go to work. Davy went around collecting Sam's toys from all over the house. I washed her bowls, her towels and her beddings. And then Davy went to work. I stayed home and that was a mistake, I should have gone to work. I kept looking for Sam and couldn't believe that she was not in her favorite place in the kitchen, or under the dining table, or by the sofa, or by Davy's bed, or the sunny spot in our bedroom. And I kept seeing Davy in that vet's room hugging Sam and weeping. When Jiff came home and saw me really sad, he said, "Mom, we did what we had to do. Think of Sam in dog heaven running and playing fetch with Diego and Habibie and Fifi. I think she's happy now." It was a source of great comfort to me that Jiff believes in the stuff, because by myself I couldn't imagine a "heaven" for dogs. The reality for me was that Sam was gone, and I couldn't conceive of her chasing a ball with her old friends in dog heaven and being happy again. But if Jiff believes that, then I can believe it too. So that's how I try to think of Sam now. It helps, but my heart is still heavy."