As she passed through the living room, she glanced at the rest of us sitting in front of the television. All she offered up was a blank stare. She could care less, but yet not an ounce of apathy was present. It was the most peculiar blend of silent respect and perfect autonomy.

She was amused by us, I could tell. But her emotions rarely betrayed her.

Of all of us, she was the most reserved and balanced. She rarely moved beyond an even-keeled state. While others of us managed tears and tantrums, all that ever came from her direction was a sigh, heavy with both understanding and passive displeasure. There were times that I thought that she understood me better than I myself did, and it took no words exchanged by our lips. Silence was her M.O. She was the discreet observer, and she knew her place in the group.

In the heirarchy of it all, she assumed her rightful place. She was on par with the rest of us, just as well traveled, just as deserving and unwavering in willingness to surrender her creature comforts. A “don’t push the envelope, jack” attitude was standard issue. We knew it, and moved on. I don’t know why the rest of us never questioned it. We just didn’t. She had her stubborn streak, and exercised it quite often. But she still bowed to the heirarchy of the group. She was not in charge and she respected that. She was strong, but no rebel.

As the years moved on, the playful side of her that was more evident in her youth faded into maturity. She became more reserved and pensive, but she never lost her pride. If anything she was dignified. Yea, that’s exactly it. She was dignified.

Over the past few years, we haven’t seen each other much. Our brief meetings since then assumed an heir of peaceful nostalgia. We both knew not to get to attached again…our situations were changed. We were in different places in life and that was OK. It doesn’t mean I didn’t catch a passing glimmer of sadness in her eyes, though, when I would kiss her goodbye each time. With each successive departure, we both feared it might just be the last.

She passed tonight, still dignified, still regal, still stubborn and still proud. We both knew it would happen sooner than latter, and we were OK with that. We had a good run. But this doesn’t mean that that glimmer of sadness in my eyes tonight hasn’t manifested itself into a tear.

Rest peacfully, Sam. You may have been “just a dog” to some, but you were my best friend.