I grew up with dogs and have been around them for most of my life. Their names, always strange to the strangers in our lives were; Wolfgang, Heidi, Keshan (named after Bob of Captain Kangaroo fame), Margaret Thatcher, Dick Butkus, Gracie and Samuel Seabury. However much I loved them all, Sammy, a handsome English Bulldog, captured my heart like no other. A red-coated Bully with magnificent rose ears and a muscular, sturdy frame, God had blessed him with a personality that was effervescent, unconditionally loving, loyal, curious, protective, fun-loving and distinctly people centered. Like all dogs that are deeply loved, Sammy took his place in our family like a third son locked in at about the human age of 3.

Sammy was one of those splendid and mysterious gifts from God. A gift that made life better, happier and more fulfilling than it could ever have been without him. I believe God created him to bring joy, comfort, love and companionship into the lives of our children and grandchildren, our extended family and all who crossed the threshold of our home.

Sammy was a California dog. We adopted him at a young age from a professional breeder who had detected a defect in his character that prevented him from being shown in the American Kennel Club “ring.” He was just too rambunctious, and wanted to play with the judges rather than being led about by some stiff-jointed show handler. You see, Sammy believed he was the show – not just a small part of it. And so he never really became show material; although breeders who knew English Bulldogs would say, “now there’s a champion.” But such adoration never went to Sammy’s head.

As a young pup, Sammy loved to run in the fine sand of Dog Beach where the San Diego River and the Pacific Ocean meet. Unlike most Bulldogs, he could actually swim, even though he appeared with only his nose above water like a submerged submarine with its periscope barely showing above the surface. He chased other dogs on the beach always in play; short legs and a Bulldog’s body never allowed him to catch up with any. But for Sammy, playing was more important than winning; a great lesson for children and athletes to be sure. San Diego author Alice Taylor Hansen even wrote a book about him!

As a Bulldog living the life of a 3-year-old human, Sammy never saw the inside of a kennel. When Karen and I had to be away from home, Sammy always had a live-in caregiver who was required to be there with him most of the day and then share our bed with him at night. Such loving caregivers had to be able to endure the notorious snoring Bulldogs are famous for. And they did, because they loved Sammy too. And could Sammy ever snore!

Sammy was the first English Bulldog on record to preach at Washington National Cathedral. His sermon topic, delivered at the annual Beauvoir Grandparents Day service by nose rubs and licks for the children was, “Never Judge a Book by Its Cover.” Several years thereafter the Beauvoir children and faculty presented Sammy with a Christmas gift. Sammy loved Christmas!

He was an odd but much respected participant one warm summer’s day and stood regally next to me when I offered the invocation at the ground breaking for the cathedral’s new underground parking garage. Sammy was then spoiled by the invitees who fed him copious doggie treats at the outdoor reception. Sammy loved receptions!

Sammy accompanied me to some of the Episcopal schools in the diocese. The children just loved him. Years later, parents, teachers and children have come up to me at parish or diocesan functions to ask; “how’s Sammy these days?”

In 2003, the Washingtonian interviewed me about my role as the new Episcopal Bishop of Washington. The accompanying photo was of Sammy and me sitting at the entrance to the beautiful little chapel in Church House. I thought it was a great picture, especially of me. But wherever I went for months thereafter, people would say; “Bishop, that was a great picture of your dog! How is Sammy anyway?”

Sammy had never seen snow in California and so his first exposure to it here in Washington caused him to stand in the strange, freezing new substance and howl like he always did when he heard the high-pitched sounds of fire trucks and police cars as they whizzed past on Wisconsin Avenue. It was a pathetic wailing howl, and an even more pathetic sight to see Sammy gingerly standing in the snow, bewildered and freezing.

As always, Sammy endured. But slowly the years began to take their toll. Bulldogs don’t live much longer than nine years and beloved Sammy was close to 13. Arthritis had finally caught up with him and he moved slowly now. It was harder to go up and down the stairs. Some nights Karen and I would have to carry him down so he could go outside before we all retired to bed. Other times we would walk down the stairs beside him so he wouldn’t slip and fall. It was hard to see such a proud and vibrant dog become slower, greyer and less independent. No longer the showman, the center of attention and the “cock of the walk,” Sammy began to cling to us, clearly knowing he was becoming more fragile. At night he would sit by the door, not sleeping until we came home from a diocesan or family function. Without us in the house he seemed to become frightened and restless.

Karen and I knew that Sammy’s time with us was drawing to an end. But we looked forward to Christmas 2009 and hung his stocking by the fireplace along with ours.

Four days before Christmas, Sammy woke up in the middle of the night and walked over from his own bed, now on the floor near the bedroom fireplace. Karen patted him on the head and rubbed his silky soft ears. Then he lay down next to our bed and fell asleep, snoring as only a very old Bulldog can.

The next morning Karen frantically awoke me to say “I can’t hear Sammy breathing any more. Can you?” And sure enough the bedroom was deathly quiet. And there on the floor, next to the bed as if sleeping soundly, body relaxed with eyes closed was beloved Samuel Seabury. Four days before Christmas, God had finally called him home and Sammy finally said YES!

Karen and I sat on the floor together and cried, patting the now still, tired body of an animal that had for more than 12 years of our lives defined for us what it means to be unconditionally loved and what a treasure trust, loyalty, and companionship are. We prayed in thanksgiving for Sammy’s life and then had to painfully accept giving him back to the power of life and love from whence he came. It was a very hard day!

I believe God gives us the Sammys of this world to remind us what is important in the short life span all of us have been given on this good earth: That life is a gift, and that it needs to be lived well, with enthusiasm and joy. And that the gift of life must be lovingly and deeply shared with others. Sometimes we are visited by angels in many forms who remind us of this timeless truth. Sammy was our angel! Who might your angel be?