It is with a heavy heart that I write this. Scout, my good buddy and companion for the last ten years, has passed. Several weeks ago she developed a cancerous tumor on the back of her head and it never stopped growing. Over the last few days things got progressively worse, and it was obvious she was in a lot of pain and was very, very scared. For the first time in her life she wouldn’t even eat.
So today the vet came over to the house and we put Scout down. She laid her head on her paw and went to sleep, almost visibly grateful to be free of the alien pain and fear. Although it was deeply sad to see Scout go, it was time for her to move on and I’m glad we were able to keep her from suffering longer.
Afterwards I loaded her into the car and drove out to Letohatchee and prepared a little place to bury her near the pond. She’s got the best seat in the house out there. It was a beautiful, calm afternoon and I sat with her for a while thinking about how much personality she had. What an amazing dog. It occurred to me that she probably brought more joy into this world in her ten years than some people do in a lifetime. I don’t know what it was about her, really. People were drawn to her. I used to joke that some of my friends liked Scout better than they did me, and it was true in a way.
I’ve known a lot of dogs in my life, but Scout was special. She had a uniquely sweet, happy demeanor, and was always calm. She loved meeting new people. She was good with other dogs and loved to play. She used to follow me on long mountain bike rides and swim down rivers beside my kayak. She accompanied me on countless camping trips, curled up against my sleeping bag at night, sharing her warmth. For ten years, she chased every single squirrel and chipmunk she laid eyes on. On our trips she proved hourly the adage proposed by José Ortega y Gasset, who observed that “The only adequate response to a being that lives obsessed with avoiding capture is to try and catch it.” She was devoted to me, and displayed heartbreaking moments of emotional attachment. I can truly say that I loved Scout, and I will always miss her.
As the afternoon heat faded and the shadows started lengthening across the field, I patted her head one last time, and then put her to rest in the earth.
On the way home I remembered a poem by Pablo Neruda I read a long time ago. It would be hard to put it any better.
Ode to the Dog
The dog is asking me a question
and I have no answer.
he dashes through the countryside and asks me
wordlessly,
and his eyes
are two moist question marks, two wet
inquiring flames,
but I do not answer because I haven’t got the answer.
I have nothing to say.
Dog and man: together we roam the open countryside.
Leaves shine as if someone had kissed them
one by one,
orange trees
rise up from the earth
raising
minute planetariums
in trees that are as rounded
and green as the night,
while we roam together, dog and man
sniffing everything, jostling clover
in the countryside of Chile,
cradled by the bright fingers of September.
The dog makes stops,
chases bees,
leaps over restless water,
listens to far-off barking,
pees on a rock,
and presents me the tip of his snout
as if it were a gift;
it is the freshness of his love,
the message of love.
And he asks me
with both eyes:
why is it daytime? Why does night always fall?
why does spring bring
nothing
in its basket
for wandering dogs
but useless flowers,
flowers and more flowers?
This is how the dog
asks questions
and I do not reply.
Together we roam,
man and dog bound together again
by the bright green morning,
by the provocative empty solitude
in which we alone
exist,
this union of dog and dew
or poet and woods.
For these two companions,
for these fellow-hunters,
there is no lurking fowl
or secret berry
but only birdsong and sweet smells,
a world moistened
by night’s distillations,
a green tunnel and then a meadow,
a gust of orangey air,
the murmurings of roots,
life on the move,
breathing and growing,
and the ancient friendship,
the joy,
of being dog or being man
fused
in a single beast
that pads along on
six feet,
wagging
its dew-wet tail.
Goodbye, old buddy.
June 23rd, 2008 at 9:48 pm
oh, mcd. i am so sorry.
you gave her a good life.
June 24th, 2008 at 11:15 am
I just learned that you changed where your blog is and as I was going to it I saw that it was loading WordPress, I was thinking I would say something about that until I saw this post. My heart sank.
Be proud of the good times you had, a dog that good is hard to find, and you got to have one for a good part of your life.
June 24th, 2008 at 12:15 pm
Oh no! I am so sorry. I don’t think I ever had the pleasure of meeting Scout but I was always happy to read about her and see photos. She was clearly a sweetie.
Have you read Marley & Me? It’s really good and I think you’d appreciate it right about now.
June 24th, 2008 at 7:47 pm
I feel for you right now. There is nothing one can compare to knowing a dog. I still hurt when I see photos of Ileya, I didn’t even have the ability to post anything on my blog when we lost her. There is no way I can describe with words what it means to have a relationship with a dog that can look into your eyes and instantly let you know exactly what they want to convey, it’s a relationship that exist on a plane I have yet to hear properly explained. I feel for you, I know what it means to lose such a companion. Let us know if we can be there.
RIP Scout.
June 24th, 2008 at 8:04 pm
This helps me alot when I am grieving for my lost pets… click on
http://www.indigo.org/rainbowbridge_ver2.html
Make sure your computer has the sound on. I am so sorry to hear about Scout. You’ll see here again someday.
June 25th, 2008 at 6:52 am
I’m so sorry McD. I loved Scout. She was a great a dog. If you dont mind, I’d like to share my favorite memory of her. You and Daniel had already left the rat butt motel for work. I was leaving for work and was driving passed your house. There was Scout, taking a snooze in the middle of the road. All I could do was laugh out loud and go wake her up and take her home.
She was a great dog, I’ve asked my self a thousand times, why cant Lil be more like Scout?
My thoughts are with you friend.
June 25th, 2008 at 7:53 am
Oh McD! What terrible news. Makes me want to go home and give Tahndi a big hug. How many good times she and Scout had together! She was a truly wonderful dog and will be missed by many, many folks. My thoughts are with you.
June 25th, 2008 at 12:17 pm
I remember first meeting Scout at one of my parties in Montg. when she was just a tiny little puppy. From then on I always looked forward to seeing her on our backpacking trips (she was the best trail dog) to our mountain biking trips (I’ll never forget how she would jump to the side of the trail just as you approached her on the downhills) to living with her for almost two years. What a beautiful, brilliant, loving dog. I have always said that Scout was the greatest dog in the world. You, by the way, my friend, were the greatest master (although I never felt that your relationship could be described in those terms) Scout had more adventures and experienced more love in her ten years that most people will during a lifetime. She loved every minute of her life and especially loved you. I wished I had gotten to say Good Bye to the “ol’ girl” but so glad she has such a beautiful place to lay her head. By the way, it was probably me that let scout out that day at the rat butt house, glad S.B. kelly was there to save her. Jackson recently had to go to the dog hospital due to some malady of unknown origin and while our relationship is more like iconic figure and dude I let pet me occasionally and nowhere near the love and devotion you and Scout shared, I found myself tearing up over that old Dog. Much like I am now.
June 26th, 2008 at 8:40 am
Scout was truly a great one. We were lucky to know her.
June 27th, 2008 at 8:24 am
Thanks for your awesome comments, everyone.