He runs away from me. His tail is wagging. He enjoys the chase, knowing that I'll get him. He knows, because I tell him repeatedly. “I'm goin' to get you,” I yell after him, as he lures me to the kitchen. It's feeding time. By the time I catch up, he's half turned, dividing his attention between me and his empty bowl. He's extraordinary. He's forgiven me so many sins, that I can't possibly remember them all, forgiven all of the times I was cruel to him. Forgiven him all of the times he tore my hands, my skin, my flesh, sometimed down to bone, to remind me what's right and wrong. I have so much respect for him for being my compass, for not letting me get away with being a shit. Respect for being my mentor even as he understands that he's my charge.

Sam's interested, and while those objects that command his most deeply focused attentions are usually of at least questionabe edibility, the common occurences of his daily life still hold the power to draw him in. His awareness of the goings on around him is, in fact, one of his most particularly attractive traits, just as the ability to drift off almost anywhere, newly found at age ten, leading to being shocked and grumpy, upon awakening to other sneaky canines having acquired the ability to move closer silently, invisibly, is one of his most adorable flaws. He jumps to his feet, still half asleep, and warns the unwitting intruder with a sharp bark. As with a ripple emanating from his epicenter, all around him jump too.

There's also his nervousness. Even though it elicits mostly pity, at first, it's also endearing because it helps me to see his selectivity. Some times, my activities are the least of his concerns, yet on other occasions, like when we ambulate, or for that matter, skateboard among the crowds at outdoor shows, I'm it. His hindquarters begin to vibrate in an almost imperceptible quiver, and I become, by far, the heaviest body in his universe. Strangers with hands extended in friendship get a mildly curious, but mostly cursory sniff, an indifferent kiss, and his orbit returns him to my back. Of course, when we skateboard without crowd involvement, our bungee sometimes snaps me back, reminding me that any blade of grass, twig, or grasshopper can absorb him, almost completely, in an instant.