Never Too Big for a Lap

Usually in the evenings Sam chills out in the kitchen with Dad while I'm elsewhere in the house--tonight I was in the sewing room. But every time I enter the kitchen, even if it's just to refill my drink, Sam gets up from whatever spot he's been sleeping in and comes to sit at my feet. It's the perfect example of canine loyalty, and one look at his sleepy face is normally all it takes to get me to sit on the floor with him.

Once I sit down, he scoots forward and circles, then turns and plops down in my lap. Or rather, what's left of my lap after I try to accommodate him. As of last week Sam was 87 pounds, and when he jumps up he's nearly my height. But he still sits in my lap, even though he barely fits anymore. Even if he ends up bigger than me, I'm sure he'll still sit in my lap.

Me and my sleepy Sam

Nothing quite warms your heart like a faithful dog who just wants to be near you. It isn't the kid-brother annoying sort of clinginess; it's more the "You like me, you really like me!" Sally Field sort of awe that this creature you love so much is just as attached to you. And it doesn't matter that he was sound asleep on his pillow a moment ago, and that you're sitting on a hard tile floor, he just wants to be close to you if he can. He follows you, even when you're just going back and forth from the sink to the pantry, sitting at your feet each time, unwilling to be even five feet away. And you stroke his head and rub his ears and he heaves a big sleepy sigh and closes his hazel eyes.

I'll just say this: it's nearly impossible to have a bad day when you've got a dog like Sam.