Sampson: A lucky dog (for now)

I miss my wife every day and our still growing puppy, Sampson, the powerful one with the soft and silky golden locks that inspired his name.

I even laughingly referred to him as the S-factor before my last glimpse of Nevada City was through a rear-view mirror while traveling down Highway 49 one morning in early January.

When I first went to Texas, I thought it was so great that Sampson could be like the man of the house and defend and protect Stacy while I was gone.

It made this long journey a bit more tolerable.

Now, however, I'm starting to have second thoughts. It seems Sampson is moving into my turf.

Just recently, he attended a Foothill Theatre chamber mixer with Stacy and I heard they were among the last one's to leave. Then the photo on this web page surfaced, clearly showing a tender moment between them at the mixer.

And then the other day, while we were talking on the phone, Stacy revealed that Sampson was now sleeping at the foot of our bed, no doubt ever alert to her every movement, no matter how slight.

"He's not actually in the bed is he?" I asked my wife with a notable air of concern.

"Oh, no. There's nothing to worry about," Stacy purred into the phone in a way that made my heart ache with extra desire. "But I'll tell you something, that Sampson is the greatest dog in the world."

Great, I thought, and then I felt a twinge in my back. The kind where you know it's only a matter of time before you'll need help putting your socks on.