My pack

I am awake. Around me I feel and hear others. They smell like me, they crawl over me, they press against me. They are my pack.

As we grow, one leaves. Two big creatures who walk on two legs scoop up my littermate and take them away.

This happens again and again until two new creatures, humans I’ve learned, pick me up. I don’t understand them, but their voices are calm. They pet my back and scratch under my chin. I am nervous, but they make me feel safe.

They take me away from my pack. The less furry one holds me as we sit in a bumpy seat. The sounds are loud but she rubs my back and holds me close.

The humans take me into their den. Inside is one like me, but bigger. He is brown with a sleek coat and floppy ears. He sniffs me. I sniff him. He seems so excited. He begins to jump, run around me, and bark. He’s too much. I bark a warning. He listens. Maybe he isn’t too much?

I spend the night cuddled with the one who is like me and the two humans in their den. It is soft and warm. We sleep pressed up against one another. I’m still nervous, but I feel safe with the familiar warmth of bodies against me.

This pack feeds me and pays so much attention to me. They constantly talk to me and show me affection. They seem to care for me. I like this pack. The humans call the other one like me Chainsaw. He is wild, but also kind and tender. I spend my days with Chainsaw. He cuddles me, cleans me. I do the same for him. I can tell he feels safer when I’m around. I realize he is my pack. He is my brother. I love him.

Soon the two humans become my pack too. The smaller and less furry of the two is called Ali. She is my adopted mother. I follow her. She gives me treats, pets me, holds me, and scratches me in all the right places. She gives me medicine and cares for me when I feel ill. I am spoiled and safe with Ali. The furry one is Kyle. He is loud like Chainsaw. He wrestles and chases Chainsaw. Their play is aggressive. I don’t like it when he does the same with me, but I bark. He listens. He learns I am different. He becomes my safe place. This is my pack. I feel so much love for them.

My pack calls me Samurai Warrior Princess. I don’t know what it means, and they rarely say my full name. Instead they use other names: Sammie, Sammie Dog, Sammer, Sammer Bammer, Sammer Bot, Bammie, Bugger, Nugget, Sammer Joe. It’s a lot of names, I know, but they like it. I think I do too.

My pack walks together. Chainsaw always pulls ahead. I follow. We see other dogs like Chainsaw and me. I don’t like them. They make me nervous. I don’t want to be around them. All I need is my pack.

My days are the best. I feel happy. I eat, cuddle, and walk with my pack. Sometimes we ride in the car. I hate the car, but we travel to places with new smells and foods.

One day my pack moves all the things in our den. My parents say we are moving. We leave our den. I don’t want to go, but my pack is my home. And all I want is to be with them. We ride in the car for days. Finally the car stops. We walk into our new den. It is smaller and darker than the last one. The walks outside our new den are wonderful. There are gigantic trees and grass, water, and so many glorious smells. Our trips are now filled with mountains, beaches, and hikes.

Our new den has a low bed, short enough for me to leap onto. I wake my father up every morning. I jump on his chest and paw at his face. He knows it is time to feed me.

My days are filled with love.

After many days we move our den again. This time the car ride is short. The new den has a big window and a yard to run around in. It is a good yard. There are no other dogs. Just Chainsaw and me, the way it should be.

I spend my days snacking on food that falls from the high places where my mother and father prepare it. They constantly trip over me while I wait. I forgive them. The food is worth it.

My mother grows bigger, and I smell something new. Something is changing in her but I don’t know what. One day my mother and father leave. When they come back there is a new one with them. He is small and loud. He doesn’t look like me. They call him Banks. I don’t like this change. I liked our pack the way it was.

Banks grows. Fast. Soon he is bigger than me. Chainsaw loves him. Chainsaw wrestles him, licks him, sits outside the door to his room at night. I am happy for Chainsaw. Another playmate to wrestle with. I watch them from a distance.

I’m not used to this new addition to our pack, but my days are still filled with love.

I feel something is changing about Chainsaw. He doesn’t run as much as he used to. He whimpers and whines. I clean him. I cuddle him. I take care of him. He needs my love. His changes grow more drastic each day. He can no longer run, or walk. He barely barks. And now he can’t hear or see me.

My pack is crying. We drive somewhere new. I don’t like this place. The scent of too many animals fills the air. They carry Chainsaw into a dark room. We cuddle together on a couch. Chainsaw pants. I don’t know why. He did not run. My mother and father cry. I smell the salt in their tears. I hear the shake in their voices, though I don’t understand. Chainsaw’s panting stops. He is sleeping. He is peaceful. But I don’t hear him now. I smell him. I see him. But there are no sounds from him.

My parents pick me up. We leave Chainsaw. We go home to our den. Where is Chainsaw? Why did we leave him? The days go by. My parents continue to hold me and cry. Chainsaw is still gone. When will he come back? I get cuddles, but not from Chainsaw. I miss him. I miss his wildness, I miss his cuddles, I miss his kisses. It has been many days. I don’t think Chainsaw is coming back.

Banks continues to grow. He gets bigger and faster. He learns words. He reminds me of Chainsaw. I like him. He scares me. But I begin to understand that Banks is my pack. He talks about Chainsaw a lot. He misses him like I do. I start to follow him, I sniff his toys. He pets me. Sometimes he gets upset. But I begin to feel safe around him too.

My pack is love.

Something is changing in me. I begin to feel slower and weaker. My parents won’t let me jump onto our couch anymore. They pick me up when I can’t reach it. And the day comes when I stop trying to make the jump.

I love food. It drives me. I am small and my hunger is large. But food begins to make me sick. I usually scarf down my meals, but now I can’t stomach them. My parents give me new food and medicine. I start to feel better, but that food starts making me sick too. For days they try new food. It works for a while but eventually I get sick again. Then I stop eating. I want to eat, but I can’t. I feel too dizzy. I feel weak. My parents try to give me medicine but my hunger doesn’t return.

My pack loves me. I love them. They give me cuddles. They pet me and hold me. They begin to cry like they did with Chainsaw.

A new human comes to the den. She has a big bag. She introduces herself to me and calms me. She puts a blanket over me. I feel a small prick on my back. My parents hold me. I feel their hands shaking, I feel their tears on my back, I hear their cries. They whisper that they love me. I love them too.

I slowly fall asleep. I feel no pain. All I feel is love. I am loved. I am love. And I am hungry again.

I see him. He’s not old or weak. He is strong, his coat is sleek. He howls with joy and kisses me. I bark. This time not as a warning but as a greeting that I can’t contain. Chainsaw! We run towards adventure, full of strength, full of joy, waiting for the rest of our pack to arrive.

I am love. We are love. My pack is love.

—

RIP Sammie, we didn't deserve your love.

Samurai Warrior Princes
October 2009 - March 5th 2026