Scout

Scout - 1992-2006

As dogs' lives go, Scout's was well-lived and long. He was a beloved part of our pack, and content with his place in it.

His first year was hard, he had been abused, and he was adopted by my sister-in-law Judy from a San Francisco animal shelter, and brought to a home where he was wanted and cared for.

When Judy died and her husband moved to an apartment in the city, we took Scout, who became a companion for our female shepherd, Cady Jo.

They had ten years together before we lost her. She was the leader, queen of the house, and he was happy to have somebody to follow.

When Cady died, Scout grieved, and we thought he was going down then, but a new puppy perked him up, and he made it through Jude's puppyhood, and the arrival of the newest pack member, Layla.

But pushing fifteen is old for a German Shepherd, and he slowly began to run out of steam. He had arthritis of the spine, his back legs started to go, he wobbled, and eventually could hardly walk without falling. He didn't see or hear well toward the end, and his appetite faded. His systems started to shut down.

Old dogs sleep a lot, and we hoped he would just drift away one night, but that was not to be. There comes a time with some dogs when you have to help them go, and it is your responsibility as the leader of their pack to know when that is, and to step up and do what needs to be done.

I believe in assisted suicide for people -- and I certainly wouldn't allow my dog to suffer. Today, Dianne and I took him to the vet's. Our vet came out to the car, and a few minutes later, Scout left us.

I cried like a baby.

There are too many good memories to recount, but one recent one stands out:

Scout had been slower and slower to rise, and unable to go very far. But on a short walk a few days ago, one of our neighbors left a gate open, and their black lab got out. It is not a friendly dog, and it came at us, snarling and snapping.

And tired, sick, old Scout, who had nothing left, who was barely able to stand up without falling, found something, and surged forward to protect us. He stood his ground against the lab, teeth working, going on the attack. He didn't back down an inch. The lab did.

I shooed the neighbor's dog back into its yard, shut the gate, and came back to see that Scout had a big dog-smile. He looked pleased with himself, and maybe that's just me anthropomorphizing it, but I can say I was pleased with him, as proud as I could be. Such a good boy.

Scout. He was a stand-up dog, a good boy straight across. I loved him, and I will miss him, as I still miss Cady, until the end of my days.