Sammy Seal

Sammy’s “seal” nickname came from the way he used to throw himself onto the rug after a walk, front paws straight out, back legs tucked under, wriggling across the floor with a happy grunt. If there was a patch of sunshine coming through the window, you could almost guarantee he’d manage to flop into it perfectly.

He had a talent for finding fun in ordinary moments. If you opened a crisp packet or rustled a treat bag, Sammy would appear from nowhere, head tilted, tail wagging, doing a little spin as if to say, “You called?” On walks he would trot slightly ahead, then keep looking back to make sure everyone was still with him, as if he was personally responsible for leading the pack safely home.

One of his favourite games was “seal at the beach” – running to the edge of the water, barking at the waves, then sprinting back as they rolled in, only to do it all over again. Sand on his nose, ears blowing in the wind, he looked absolutely delighted with himself.

In quieter moments, Sammy was pure comfort. He always seemed to know when someone needed a cuddle, gently leaning his weight against them and letting out a soft sigh. Those small, everyday moments – the tap of his paws on the floor, the thump of his tail, the way he’d settle in beside you at the end of the day – are the memories that will always bring a smile, even through the sadness of missing him.