Remembering Ranch Sam by Rhona Melsky

Our hearts are breaking as we lost our beloved Samson, AKA Ranch Sam, yesterday, Aug. 8. Sam walked into our lives nine years ago when volunteers found him at Wildhorse Ranch Rescue eating the cat food left outside for the ranch cats. He was anywhere from 3 to 6 years old at the time, a shepherd/lab mix about 80 pounds strong. He was solid muscle and a sweetheart. No collar and no tags and no microchip. He was exceptionally full of life, very active, friendly and smart, and we thought he may have been some type of therapy dog; it was very obvious he had a family at some point. We searched for them for a long time, but to no avail. Kim Meagher, Wildhorse’s founder, had Sam stay at the ranch. We soon found that Sam was an escape artist, and like the Man of Steel himself because he could scale a 10-foot block wall or fence and also escape through a small hole in the laundry room. So when we adopted him out the first time, we warned the new family to be sure not to leave Sam in their backyard on his own as he might jump the wall and run away. They didn’t listen, and we got a phone call when he was found after he ran away from the person who found him. The second family did the same thing. Kim was called and told that our “dogs” were found all the way in Queen Creek! Sam had somehow ended up out there. During his “travels” Sam picked up a pit bull puppy as a companion, another dog with no ID and no family to be found. So Kim brought them home to the ranch. The pittie was soon adopted out to a family. Roger decided no more chances for Sam as he was afraid that the next phone call would be that Sam was found dead. So, Roger and I took him into our home along with Harry, another dog found and brought to the ranch. It was obvious that Harry was previously abused, and Samson took him under his wing and watched out for him. Sam was sweet, gentle and a friend to people and animals alike. I will never forget the day I spotted Sam standing over an injured bird in the backyard. I was scared he was going to hurt the bird or eat the bird. I yelled for him to stop as he went for the bird. Sam always listened to me, but he didn’t that time. He picked up the injured bird ever so gently and walked over to me, handed me the bird, and he then looked at me as if to say, “Fix him, please.” That was our Sam. And so when we had to let him go yesterday, our hearts broke. I held him so tight, as if somehow, some way, maybe it could turn back time. I didn’t want to let go. Sam stole our hearts and definitely took some with him. Rest in peace, my sweet boy.