So I find this dog. Well actually, I saw this face…this classically hound face….a face that I would have sworn belonged to a dachshund….a face that was actually attached to what Petfinder said was a “hound mix,” my vet at the time insisted Viszla, and my own research and living with her for 12 years which determined that she was indeed a coonhound of the redbone variety crossed with Rhodesian Ridgeback.
What she wasn’t was a dachshund.
But she was so beautiful.
So Suzanne, Robin and I trekked out to the Genesee Animal Shelter to meet Maisy (that was her pound name) . As we took that walk so many of you are familiar with---down the concrete halls lined with cages, there was a great cacophony of barking and whimpering. In the cage marked Maisy was that sweet hound, not making a sound, sitting kind of hang dog in the center of the pen. I greeted her and she stood up, wiggled the wiggle that became her trademark and leaned against me at the front of the cage. MaisyScout had chosen me. And at that moment, I was rescued.
There was paperwork involved and she needed one more round of vaccinations, so we had two choices…she could be picked up during regular business hours on Wednesday (April 28) or the next Saturday. Having pesky day jobs, neither Robin nor I could go to Batavia on Wednesday. BUT SUZANNE COULD! And did.
I don’t think either of us will ever forget when Scout first saw her backyard. She ran and she ran and she ran the loop of the yard. Fast. Furious and with wild abandon.
She was, after four other homes in 9 months of life, home.
There is a lot to learn when you grew up with short dogs only to find yourself with a tall and very agile dog. Many loaves of bread, boxes of cookies, sandwiches and in one epic case, a pan of brownies later, we all learned about counter surfing and never again was anything we didn’t want eaten, nosed, moved and or knocked over (think a toaster in the middle of the living room) left on a kitchen counter.
Or, for that matter, a bedside table (someday ask my mom about the mouth-guard she wore. Wore is the operative, past-tense word. Did you know those cost $500?).
She could find anything with the combination of her nose and her determination (and those opposable thumbs we KNOW she kept in the pockets we never found)
She was a terror.
She was wild.
She was stubborn.
She got expelled from Canine Academy where she was having “puppy classes.”
We hired a private dog trainer. Paul Burger. What a wonderful man. And what a smart student Scout was. She caught on way faster than I did. But after a couple of months, we graduated.
And then we got down to the business of living and being a family.
Scout learned a lot from her Uncle Timber. She adored her Aunt Suzanne and she was the mayor of Parkside.
We went to baseball games where she ate hotdogs, made friends and was terrified of a stuffed gorilla.
We traveled to Wisconsin every summer. She loved staying in hotels along the way. She loved rest stops and travel plazas.
She loved her Aunt Anne, her Uncle Mark and Alyssa. She especially loved our nephew David. They were inseparable whenever we were in Wisconsin. David gave her the very best nickname ever---Scoot Loops.
She harassed Alyssa’s dog Adam. Adam hated to swim. Scout loved to swim. So they swam. Scout DRAGGING Adam into the water…..
Alyssa was very patient with all of that. When Adam died, Scout did her best, when we visited, to hang with Alyssa. Alyssa was one of Scout’s favorite people. Along with her Uncle Mark and her Aunt Anne. They all, including Oliver, were with her the last week of her life.
Although Robin and I adopted Scout together, there was never any doubt that Scout was my girl and that I was hers.
Every morning, Scout and I would rub heads. She loved to have me rub my face across hers and into the scruff of her neck. As she lay dying, I did that one last time. Not for her, but for me. You see, that’s how it was with Scout. She truly did rescue me. She saw me through so many things---changes in relationships, changes in jobs, changes in careers. She helped me through seminary, she listened to COUNTLESS sermons.
And then, on that Monday afternoon in October of 2010,when the phone rang with the news that I had cancer, Scout got up from her throne---I mean chair----and walked up to where I was standing and sat on my foot. When I hung up the phone, I sat right down next to her and she held me. She never stopped holding me. Through diagnosis (and many many many trips to Roswell), surgery and active treatment this dog who never ever slept in my bed, slept with me, walked with me, snuggled with me, guarded me----oh my did she guard me!----until one day, toward the end of 2011, she eased back a bit. She no longer slept with me. And I knew I was cured.
And I was.
When I met Pete and she came to the house for the first time, Scout LOVED her. There was no hesitation, no “checking her out,” it was immediate and total acceptance. And suddenly Scout knew that she could ease back even more. Because Scout knew I was going to be ok. It wasn’t long after Pete and I got married that the first signs of Scout’s illness began to show. She slowed way down, she developed visible benign tumors and it seemed clear that she was becoming our good OL’ girl. We had a good year with her just slowing down ever so gradually---she still loved chasing whatever she could find up at the ranch, she still took off on her “walkabouts,” returning filthy dirty with a gigantic smile on her face, but she was losing weight so we knew something was wrong. In the summer of 2014 she had surgery to remove a number of the tumors and we were told that she had a tumor on her liver and that eventually either her liver would fail or a tumor would burst. What we knew is that she wasn’t going to get out of it alive. And so began the #DyingMyAss tour. It was two years of great living, interspersed with lots of expert love and attention by Colleen, Scamp, Dr Garafalo and Dr Nellis, but finally, on the 25th of March 2016 our princess, our Scooters, our Scoot Loops, our Jean Louise Scout Dempesy-Sims couldn’t do it anymore. And we said good-bye.
What some of you already know is this---after she breathed her last, Dr G asked Pete if it would be ok for the folks who worked at ESAH to say good-bye to her. So one by one, with Dr Garafalo standing at the door, vet techs, aides and the office staff came into the room to kiss Scout good-bye. She had a lot of human friends. They loved her. And that is something we will never forget.
Speaking of friends---Scout had a lot of dog friends….Uncle Timber, Jack, Molson. And she helped raise her share of puppy friends---Milo and Cowboy. She had her sister, Hari and her brother Cooper. After Hari died Scout got her very own in house puppy, Louie…and we found out what a wondrous mother she could be. And of course there was her best friend, her pal, her running mate (thank you Dash Dog Running—Chris and Amanda Muldoon!!) and her cousin, Yodel Watson Taylor. Scout and Yodel were friends from the moment they met. And I guess it makes sense that they died so close together….life in this world without the two of them together, just wasn’t going to work, so they are together again, young, healthy and without a care in the world….they rescued us and now God has rescued them from their ailments and their challenges, to run free, to play hard and to keep dog heaven running as smoothly as a Swiss watch. No matter when they left us it would have been too soon, this we know, but somehow, some way we long for just one more day. So hug your pets. Love those who love you and never ever forget to stop and give someone a wiggle.
Thank you for being here, for loving Scout and Yodel and for loving us, Suzanne, Pete and me. Amen.
Thank you, Creator God for the gift of pets: for dogs and cats, donkeys and goats. For all makes and manner of creatures we give you thanks.
We ask your healing to those pets who have been neglected and abused, we ask your soothing presence in the hearts of us who have loved and lost our pets, especially those we now name:
Heal our broken hearts and, in good time, bring to us other pets who need us as much as we need them.
Amen.
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