mcdspot

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

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.