sammy2

Sam has lived at SASHA Farm for about a month now. Why have we taken so long to introduce him?, you might ask. Well, it’s a long story with a sad twist.

We get requests to take dogs every single day, and rarely are we able to help. As a farmed animal sanctuary, our mission first and foremost is to care for the farm animals here, and often dogs are hindrance. Most dogs are not cut out to be farm dogs, and when we do find one that fits in, we are usually lucky enough to see them live a full long life. Since we can only have a few dogs at a time, that means we rarely have space for “just one more dog.” That’s what made Sam’s arrival here so serendipitous.

The email was just one of many that pass through our inboxes, but the timing (shortly following Max’s death and the cancer diagnosis of another farm dog, Veggie), and his resemblance to another Sam (our beloved Samson was a red chow; this Samson is a red possible chow-mix) made us give him a second look. He’d been abandoned on US-23 and found by some kind people who owned a boarding kennel. When no one claimed him, they allowed him to stay there for a few years. Recently, the business closed and that’s how Sam found himself once again in need of a place to call him.

After some discussion, we decided to take a chance on 6-year-old Sam. If he didn’t work out here, we reasoned, an adoptive home would come along soon enough for a handsome boy like him. And so, Sam came to SASHA Farm, and we didn’t announce his arrival because we were waiting to see how well he would fit in.

A week later, he was fitting in better than we ever thought possible. He didn’t give the farm animals a second glance, and even Miles liked him. He was a happy-go-lucky dog who wanted to be near people all the time, and he easily found his place within the dog pack. We knew that even if he wasn’t adopted, he would do just fine here. I started writing his introduction for the blog, and all that was left was to get a good picture. That evening, I went over to say goodnight to the dogs and when I scratched Sam under the chin, I felt two strange swellings. Since he had no signs of illness, I made a mental note to have a vet who volunteers here check him the next time she came.

When I arrive d the following morning, the dogs rushed to the gate to meet me as usual, but when I spotted Sam running across the yard, the first thing I noticed was that the small swellings were now golf ball-sized and visible at a distance. We called the vet immediately.

Sam, who had been with us less than two weeks, was diagnosed a few days later with lymphoma. The prognosis was grim, and since introducing a new animal and simultaneously announcing his impending death seemed cruel, I deleted his story and we set about making his remaining time happy and comfortable. That was about three weeks ago.

A few days passed, and we were having a very hard time accepting that this happy, energetic dog we saw every day was really dying. We knew he had to at least seek the opinion of a specialist, and that’s how we ended up sitting in a waiting room at the MSU Oncology Service with a very skinny, but very happy red dog.

Now quite happily, I’m introducing you to Sam because because the oncologist we saw on Monday is much more positive about his prognosis than we’d even dared to hope. While he has begun to lose weight at an alarming rate, he doesn’t seem to know he’s sick. He’s running around here with a smile on his face, stealing food and entertaining the volunteers. We’re not looking to buy him a few weeks or months at the expense of his quality of life, but the oncologist believes there is the potential for a long remission and if money is the only obstacle, we’re willing to work to raise the money for his treatments. Of course, there are never any guarantees. Some dogs just don’t respond to the treatments. But after three days on the drugs, Sam’s lymph nodes are shrinking, he’s even more energetic than before,  and he’s having no side effects.

Of course, what we need now it to be able to afford to continue the treatment which will cost about $250 a month. One dog sponsorship would cover three weeks of treatment. $60 would cover about a week. Just $9 would cover a day of treatment. Can you help us help Sam? If you could meet him, spend a few minutes with him, look in his big brown eyes, you’d know instantly that he’s worth every penny.  He’s a really good boy, and he deserves to live much longer than six years.

We couldn’t save Max, or Bella, or the first Samson. Mabel and Zevon never had a chance, either. The one thing that all these dogs have in common, aside from cancer, is that they were already near their maximum life spans, and they lived good long lives. Sam hasn’t had that chance that, and we have the chance to fight for him this time.

You can donate online. Mention Sam in the comment box so we know what the donation is for. You can send a check, too, or bring us your penny collection. If you can’t do that, Sam could also use donations of canned vegetarian dog food. The high doses of steroids that are part of his treatment regimen have him eating twice what a normal dog would!