The Evil One

How does someone, something so good become bad? What drives one to drastically change behavior for the worse? How does that happen? More importantly, why does it happen? His name was Samson. Most people called him Sam. He rarely did what he was told to do. He called the shots, always in his favor. It amazes me how he got away with what he did.

I met Sam almost twelve years ago. He was reluctant to greet me when we were introduced to one another. He chose to keep his distance behind a dining table as a safe measure. Safe for whom? We made eye contact, but he was not approachable. He barked a few words, letting me know we should keep the distance between us. It took almost an hour, but Sam finally approached me and licked my hand. If you haven’t figured it out by now, Samson was a dog, a Goldendoodle. He lived with my lady friend, Joy. He was white with a tinge of apricot-color on his back. He was the runt of the litter. He probably had to fight harder to get his share of milk from his mom. His aggressiveness must have served him well. Outwardly, the dog seemed compatible with humans. But little did I know what evil this four-legged creature was capable of.

I remember sitting with Joy in her living room. The room was quite ornate with a lovely Persian rug gracing most of the floor space. I noticed the fringe of the rug was tattered, some of it missing. Joy informed me that when she left daily for work, Sam would get upset and chew portions of the fringe from time to time.

As the months passed, Joy’s and my relationship became closer. Falling in love seemed natural although I am not sure how Sam felt about it. He and I began to spend more alone time together. It might be termed bonding, but Sam probably figured I was just another sucker in the household. I often took him for long walks, especially to the park or down city streets. There was one time when walking him downtown with many people around that he decided to “goose” an elderly woman from behind. I heard this shriek from her. Sam stopped, turned his ahead away as if unaware of what had happened. The woman stopped to check behind her. From the look on her face, it appeared she thought I was the one that “goosed” her! There was one other time when Sam did it to a man who turned and was poised to hit me. It was at that point I began avoiding large crowds when taking him for a walk.

It became known as “the face”. It was Sam’s way of letting other dogs know to leave him alone. His eyes would glint while he bared all his teeth. Most dogs, including German Shepherds and Dobermans, would shyly walk away. It was such a wicked look that smaller dogs would whimper or cry when Sam showed “the face”. He was reprimanded several times, even punished, but he seemed unphased. What else was going through that devious mind of his?!

Sam’s daily ride in the car became as important as his trips to the dog park. There were times that he felt the ride was not long enough. So, when arriving home and opening the car door for him, he refused to get out. Rather he would sit in the back seat upset that his car ride was too short. Who would not even give me eye contact! There were several times he stayed seated in the car for hours before deciding to come into the house. Joy figured Sam was just onery. To me there was something more sinister about him. If dogs came up to Joy at the dog park and stood close to her, and Sam was not near-by, he would stop whatever he was doing and venture over to Joy. He positioned himself between her and the dog. Some even experienced “the face”.

When Joy and I finally decided to buy a house together, it seemed appropriate for our abode to have a name. We decided to call it “Casa Del Cane Malvagio”. It is Italian for “House of the Evil Dog”. To prove this point, one night Joy and I were stretched out on a small couch in the tv room. We snuggled together, leaving no room for Sam. That was a mistake! All I remember was Sam leaving the room and trotting to the front window. He began barking as if someone was on our front lawn. The noise was incessant, so I jumped up from the couch and went to the window. I was looking intently down the street, then up the street. I even opened the front door to get a better view. After a few minutes, seemingly with no trespasser in sight, I returned to the tv room. And there, curled up with Joy on the small couch, was Sam! From the look on his face, he seemed to be laughing at me while being gently stroked by Joy. I am proud to note that I was only fooled twice by this antic.

Not every day was an activity day for Sam. Some days he would just bask in a cozy corner of a room, lying there for hours. Even when he napped, he was aware of what was happening around him. If bored, he would find a sock or shoe and grasp it in his mouth to chew on it in some hiding spot within the house. His quick canter was a dead giveaway that Sam was on the move. Joy and I became very adept at listening for paws quickly moving across the hardwood floors. We were successful in aborting the destruction of several shoes and socks.

There were times when Joy and I would take short trips, weekend vacations to Santa Barbara, Sonoma, or visiting families at other locales in California. At these times, Sam needed to be boarded at kennels. This was not always a happy experience for him. As it was, when I picked him up after one, two-day getaway, a kennel staff member told me that Sam had to have a “time-out”. In fact, within a five-minute period, he had to have a second “time out”! Obviously, other boarded dogs must have experienced “the face”, maybe something even worse.

It has been almost two years since we had to put Samson down. To me, he had a complete life. As mischievous as he was, Joy and I talk about his antics almost daily. For whatever evil he possessed, there was way more goodness in our canine companion. He was always protective of us. When I was sick a few times in Sam’s lifetime, he was constantly at my side. It was uncanny, but I always felt that he could sense my feelings and moods. He never really enjoyed doggie toys or playing with other dogs, but he sat and watched other dogs play as if that offered him enough happiness.

Some “experts” believe that family, friends, or even pets that have died before us, may appear and accompany us into the afterlife when it is our turn to go. I do not want to get too carried away, nor seem silly, but I am hoping my Goldendoodle, Sam, is waiting to walk with me. But no “goosing”!