Goodbye Scout

Our dog, Scout died last Friday after nine years with us. She topped out at one hundred pounds and easily took up half the kitchen when prone, so she is leaving a big hole in our lives. I spent part of the weekend packing up her gear, and moving the cats’ food to the kitchen where they can now eat without fear of marauding dog.
Scout has been around for most of my children's lives, and I've had dogs all of my life. Scout was an indoor dog, but when I was growing up there was no such thing. “O-U-T, OUT!” was one of the first words I could spell and say. My father was a firm believer in outdoor dogs, and two dogs were enough.

When I was about eleven, our ancient Cocker Spaniel died, leaving the opportunity for a NEW dog. Unfortunately, we had bad luck in that department. First we got a German Shepherd which already had distemper (unbeknown to us) and promptly expired. Next my mother went around the bend and found a micro dog- a tea cup poodle puppy which soon started itching and never stopped. That one shortly dropped dead, too. Mom, over her small dog thing, went back to the German Shepherd. She took me to see a HEALTHY litter, and we both fell in love- with two different puppies. She wanted the silver handsome boy; I wanted the dark little girl. Much to my shock, Mom caved, and we came home with the two- Fritz and Misty. Dad had a fit. One had to go live at Modern Linen as a watch dog, and my puppy was nominated to be the lucky candidate. I sobbed- the laundry was a horrible, chain linked, concrete jungle. NOOOOOOOOOOO, I wailed. Dad would not relent. I wrote letters. I campaigned. Nothing worked, but we could keep the puppy until she went into heat, then it would have to go. I kept up with my campaign-more heartbreaking letters, and schemes to run away. It was my mother, however, who saved the day. She simply took Misty and got her spayed. End of story, end of discussion, and we kind of lived happily ever after.

But dogs do die before us usually, so even though I should be used to it by now, it is still hard to say farewell to Scout. We will miss the affection she lavished on everyone without discrimination. And I won’t forget the time she came flying down the alley and hit our friend, Mark so hard that he went straight up in the air, his legs knocked right out from under him- in kind of a love slam. Or the time she stuck her head under Annabell, and she ended up involuntarily riding her until she fell off the backside. Scout never bit anyone or anything in anger. She always greeted everyone by sitting so happily at their feet that she would knock them over with her enthusiasm.

We won’t miss how she stole bagels and sandwiches, and even a pork roast once. But the time she got the take out Chinese duck, and left the box clean and in tact inside the bag-well, I have to admit- that took talent. We won’t miss that, but we will miss her. Thanks, Scout. Good dog.