{"id":21015,"date":"2011-03-05T17:16:11","date_gmt":"2011-03-05T22:16:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/21015\/dog-named-sam-awe-neat-story\/"},"modified":"2011-03-05T17:16:11","modified_gmt":"2011-03-05T22:16:11","slug":"dog-named-sam-awe-neat-story","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/21015\/dog-named-sam-awe-neat-story\/","title":{"rendered":"A dog named Sam ~ Awe, neat story!"},"content":{"rendered":"


\nAfSD\u2122(ADVOCATE FOR SAVING DOGS\u2122)<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

A dog named Sam<\/h2>\n

Penny Eims<\/a><\/h3>\n
Dog News Examiner<\/a><\/div>\n
\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n
\n
I am Sam<\/div>\n


\nPhoto: PE <\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

I came across a powerful posting at the Facebook page for Don’t Shop…ADOPT!<\/a>
\ntoday. Anymore, there are few things that I read that bring me to
\ntears. But I still have a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes from
\nthese words.<\/div>\n
I think that everyone should read this and I am lucky because I am
\nblessed with the opportunity to share the things that are dear to my
\nheart.<\/div>\n
I am not re-writing this posting. It is long, but worth reading, and definitely <\/em>worth sharing. The words speak volumes and they carry a profound impact.<\/div>\n
This was written by someone that I do not know – the person was
\ndischarged from the Navy and went to school for a new degree. One of the
\nrequired classes was speech and what follows came from this
\nindividual’s final persuasive speech requirement.<\/div>\n
Finally the semester was almost over and I had but one more speech to
\ngive. This speech was to take the place of a written final exam and was
\nto count for fifty per cent of our grade. The speeches motivation was
\nto persuade. After agonizing over a subject matter, and keeping with my
\nanimal theme, I decided on the topic of spaying and neutering pets. My
\ngoal was to try to persuade my classmates to neuter their pets. So I
\nstarted researching the topic. There was plenty of material, articles
\nthat told of the millions of dogs and cats that were euthanized every
\nyear, of supposedly beloved pets that were turned in to various animal
\ncontrol facilities for the lamest of reasons, or worse, dropped off far
\nfrom home, bewildered and scared. Death was usually a blessing.<\/div>\n
The final speech was looming closer, but I felt well prepared. My
\nnotes were full of facts and statistics that I felt sure would motivate
\neven the most naive of pet owners to succumb to my plea. A couple of
\ndays before our speeches were due, I had the bright idea of going to the
\nlocal branch of the Humane Society and borrowing a puppy to use as a
\nsort of a visual aid. I called the Humane Society and explained what I
\nwanted. They were very happy to accommodate me. I made arrangements to
\npick up a puppy the day before my speech. The day before my speech, I
\nwent to pick up the puppy. I was feeling very confident. I could quote
\nall the statistics and numbers without ever looking at my notes. The
\npuppy, I felt, would add the final emotional touch.<\/div>\n
When I arrived at the Humane Society I was met by a young guy named
\nRon. He explained that he was the public relations person for the Humane
\nSociety. He was very excited about my speech and asked if I would like a
\ntour of the facilities before I picked up the puppy. I enthusiastically
\nagreed. We started out in the reception area, which was the general
\npublic’s initial encounter with the Humane Society.<\/div>\n
The lobby was full, mostly with people dropping off various animals
\nthat they no longer wanted. Ron explained to me that this branch of the
\nHumane Society took in about fifty animals a day and adopted out only
\nabout twenty. As we stood there I heard snatches of conversation:<\/div>\n
“I can’t keep him, he digs holes in my garden.”<\/div>\n
“They are such cute puppies, I know you will have no trouble finding
\nhomes for them.” “She is wild, I can’t control her.” I heard one of
\nHumane Society’s volunteer explain to the lady with the litter of
\npuppies that the Society was filled with puppies and that these puppies,
\nbeing black, would immediately be put to sleep.Black puppies, she
\nexplained, had little chance of being adopted.<\/div>\n
The woman who brought the puppies in just shrugged, “I can’t help
\nit,” she whined. “They are getting too big. I don’t have room for them.”
\nWe left the reception area. Ron led me into the staging area where all
\nthe incoming animals were evaluated for adoptability. Over half never
\neven made it to the adoption center. There were just too many. Not only
\nwere people bringing in their own animals, but strays were also dropped
\noff. By law the Humane Society had to hold a stray for three days. If
\nthe animal was not claimed by then, it was euthanized, since there was
\nno background information on the animal. There were already too many
\nanimals that had a known history eagerly provided by their soon to be
\nex-owners.<\/div>\n
As we went through the different areas, I felt more and more
\ndepressed. No amount of statistics, could take the place of seeing the
\nreality of what this throwaway attitude did to the living, breathing
\nanimal. It was overwhelming. Finally Ron stopped in front of a closed
\ndoor. “That’s it,” he said, “except for this.” I read the sign on the
\ndoor. “Euthanasia Area.” “Do you want to see one?” he asked. Before I
\ncould decline, he interjected, “You really should. You can’t tell the
\nwhole story unless you experience the end.” I reluctantly agreed.
\n“Good.” He said, “I already cleared it and Peggy is expecting you.” He
\nknocked firmly on the door. A middle-aged woman in a white lab coat
\nopened it immediately. “Here’s the girl I was telling you about,” Ron
\nexplained. Peggy looked me over. “Well, I’ll leave you here with Peggy
\nand meet you in the reception area in about fifteen minutes. I’ll have
\nthe puppy ready.”<\/div>\n
With that Ron departed, leaving me standing in front of the
\nstern-looking Peggy. Peggy motioned me in. As I walked into the room, I
\ngave an audible gasp. The room was small and spartan. There were a
\ncouple of cages on the wall and a cabinet with syringes and vials of a
\nclear liquid. In the middle of the room was an examining table with a
\nrubber mat on top. There were two doors other than the one I had
\nentered. Both were closed. One said to incinerator room, and the other
\nhad no sign, but I could hear various animals’ noises coming from behind
\nthe closed door. In the back of the room, near the door that was marked
\nincinerator were the objects that caused my distress: two wheelbarrows,
\nfilled with the bodies of dead kittens and puppies. I stared in horror.
\nNothing had prepared me for this. I felt my legs grow weak and my
\nbreathing become rapid and shallow. I wanted to run from that room,
\nscreaming. Peggy seemed not to notice my state of shock. She started
\ntalking about the euthanasia process, but I wasn’t hearing her. I could
\nnot tear my gaze away from the wheelbarrows and those dozens of pathetic
\nlittle bodies.<\/div>\n
Finally, Peggy seemed to notice that I was not paying attention to
\nher. “Are you listening?” she asked irritably. “I’m only going to go
\nthrough this once.” I tore my gaze from the back of the room and looked
\nat her. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come out,
\nso I nodded. She told me that behind the unmarked door were the animals
\nthat were scheduled for euthanasia that day. She picked up a chart that
\nwas hanging from the wall. “One fifty-three is next,” she said as she
\nlooked at the chart. “I’ll go get him.” She laid down the chart on the
\nexamining table and started for the unmarked door. Before she got to the
\ndoor she stopped and turned around. “You aren’t going to get
\nhysterical, are you?” she asked, “Because that will only upset the
\nanimals.” I shook my head. I had not said a word since I walked into
\nthat room. I still felt unsure if I would be able to without breaking
\ndown into tears. As Peggy opened the unmarked door I peered into the
\nroom beyond. It was a small room, but the walls were lined and stacked
\nwith cages. It looked like they were all occupied. Peggy opened the door
\nof one of the lower cages and removed the occupant. From what I could
\nsee it looked like a medium-sized dog. She attached a leash and ushered
\nthe dog into the room in which I stood. As Peggy brought the dog into
\nthe room I could see that the dog was no more than a puppy, maybe five
\nor six months old. The pup looked to be a cross between a Lab and a
\nGerman shepherd. He was mostly black, with a small amount of tan above
\nhis eyes and on his feet. He was very excited and bouncing up and down,
\ntrying to sniff everything in this new environment. Peggy lifted the pup
\nonto the table. She had a card in her hand, which she laid on the table
\nnext to me.<\/div>\n
I read the card. It said that number one fifty-three was a mixed
\nShepherd, six months old. He was surrendered two days ago by a family.
\nReason of surrender was given as “jumps on children.” At the bottom was a
\nnote that said “Name: Sam.” Peggy was quick and efficient, from lots of
\npractice, I guessed. She lay one fifty-three down on his side and tied a
\nrubber tourniquet around his front leg. She turned to fill the syringe
\nfrom the vial of clear liquid.<\/div>\n
All this time I was standing at the head of the table. I could see
\nthe moment that one fifty-three went from a curious puppy to a terrified
\npuppy. He did not like being held down and he started to struggle. It
\nwas then that I finally found my voice. I bent over the struggling puppy
\nand whispered, “Sam. Your name is Sam.” At the sound of his name Sam
\nquit struggling. He wagged his tail tentatively and his soft pink tongue
\ndarted out and licked my hand. And that is how he spent his last
\nmoment. I watched his eyes fade from hopefulness to nothingness. It was
\nover very quickly. I had never even seen Peggy give the lethal shot. The
\ntears could not be contained any longer. I kept my head down so as not
\nto embarrass myself in front of the stoic Peggy. My tears fell onto the
\nstill body on the table. “Now you know,” Peggy said softly. Then she
\nturned away. “Ron will be waiting for you.”<\/div>\n
I left the room. Although it seemed like it had been hours, only
\nfifteen minutes had gone by since Ron had left me at the door. I made my
\nway back to the reception area. True to his word, Ron had the puppy all
\nready to go. After giving me some instructions about what to feed the
\npuppy, he handed the carrying cage over to me and wished me good luck on
\nmy speech. That night I went home and spent many hours playing with the
\norphan puppy. I went to bed that night but I could not sleep. After a
\nwhile I got up and looked at my speech notes with their numbers and
\nstatistics. Without a second thought, I tore them up and threw them
\naway. I went back to bed. Sometime during the night I finally fell
\nasleep.<\/div>\n
The next morning I arrived at my Speech class with Puppy Doe. When my
\nturn came, I held the puppy in my arms, I took a deep breath, and I
\ntold the class about the life and death of Sam. When I finished my
\nspeech I became aware that I was crying. I apologized to the class and
\ntook my seat. After class the teacher handed out a critique with our
\ngrades. I got an “A.” His comments said “Very moving and persuasive.”<\/div>\n
Two days later, on the last day of class, one of my classmates came
\nup to me. She was an older lady that I had never spoken to in class. She
\nstopped me on our way out of the classroom. “I want you to know that I
\nadopted the puppy you brought to class,” she said.<\/div>\n
“His name is Sam.”<\/div>\n
Examiner Note: When I first read this yesterday, it was
\nincluded on a page with no author attribution. A reader let me know that
\nthis was written by Chris Benton. I want to be sure that Chris Benton
\nis given full credit for the powerful, moving words. I hope that they
\nhave reached and touched many people – the writing is timeless, and as<\/strong> Benton intended-persuasive.<\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Thank you for reading and thank you for
\nsharing this story with others.<\/strong><\/div>\n

\n<\/strong><\/div>\n
Continue reading on Examiner.com: A dog named Sam – National Dogs | Examiner.com<\/a> http:\/\/www.examiner.com\/dogs-in-national\/a-dog-named-sam#ixzz1FlY1TspB<\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

AfSD\u2122(ADVOCATE FOR SAVING DOGS\u2122) A dog named Sam Penny Eims Dog News Examiner I am Sam Photo: PE I came across a powerful posting at the Facebook page for Don’t Shop…ADOPT! today. Anymore, there are few things that I read that bring me to tears. But I still have a lump in my throat and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21015","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-other"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21015","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21015"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21015\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21015"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21015"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/friendburst.com\/blog-new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21015"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}