Sorry for all of you cat-lovers out there (I’m talking to you, Katie Randazzo) but tonight I want to share how thankful I am for my dog, Scout.
Scout Jane Madison was born on January 31st, 1999 (I think.) Thursday marked her 14th year. Gosh I am starting to tear up just thinking about her.
Scout passed away this summer while I was in the mountains of Colorado, so I received the news while opening my mail at the craft cart. My sweet mother sent a card with a picture of a duck on it. As I read the news, I gasped and started crying, but eventually found humor in mom’s statement that “Scout just didn’t want to be a dog anymore.” According to the duck card, she was hopefully a duck now. Reincarnation, anyone?
But all jokes aside, Scout was a precious member of our family. Although commonly mistaken for a boy, she exhibited the traits of a true woman: always gentle, sometimes spunky, and loved to cuddle and nurture, especially when she had puppies (Ten to be exact: Teddy, Grizzly, Peanut, Butter, Reese, Mocha, Tuxedo, Shirley, Pepper and Rocky).
Scout was also a true woman because she loved chocolate and carbs… once she devoured an entire box of homemade chocolate truffles. Another time our Christmas bread bowls were Scout’s Christmas Eve snack.
Towards the end of her life, Scout matured into a graceful, old lady-dog. During my quiet summer at home this past year, blissful afternoons were spent with Scout, strolling through the park in the July humidity, taking sun-naps on the dog-hair-infested carpet in our living room. I loved being with (and I’ll admit it… talking to) Scout.
Dinwiddie Street doesn’t feel the same without her. Scout’s collar hangs in our living room, and I look around for her every time I hear it jingle, or anytime I walk into the house after being gone for a while.
All dogs go to heaven, right?!