My dog Scout died on Wednesday. She’d been feeling under the weather for a little while, and they were doing tests to try to figure out what was going on, but we had no idea it was as serious as it was. When I left for New York on Wednesday morning, my husband was taking her in for an ultrasound. That night, right after he brought her home, she passed away. I got the news standing on the street in New York and it was just horrible. It is still horrible.

We got Scout in November of 1993, right before I graduated from college. She was such a good dog. I can’t even explain it here how good she was. Just so loyal, and sweet. All she ever wanted was to sit by you and be petted for, like, ever. It was hard sometimes because our other dogs, both males, were all in your face dynamic, crazy, bouncing off the walls, and they often got everyone’s attention, at least at first. But Scout was the dog that always knew when you were having a bad day. That would just come sit at your feet and sigh loudly, putting her head in your lap, like she could relate. We got her from the animal shelter: she was part of a litter that had come in with the mother dog. All the other puppies were longer haired, but for some reason, she had shorter hair and was darker colored. Whoever had her before the mother and puppies were either given up or got loose had docked her tail, so she looked like a rottewiler, even though she wasn’t, and the shelter had her apart from the rest of the litter, in her own cage. I went in and petted her for a few minutes, then walked down the row a bit to look for my husband, who was my boyfriend way back then. Just as I did, this guy came around the corner and saw Scout in her cage. He was all, “Lookit there, that’s a rottewiler, those dogs are bad ass! That’s what I’m gonna get!” As soon as he walked away I went over and grabbed the card off the front of Scout’s cage before he could come back: from then on, she was mine. And let me tell you, that guy would have been so disappointed. She was no bad ass. She was just about the sweetest thing that ever lived.

This is really hard for me to write, because it still doesn’t seem real. But I wanted to put it up here because I want to remember her, and let those of you who knew her remember her as well. So here are some pictures of my Scout.


This is right after we got her. She loved books. Or, bookshelves. Or, this bookshelf.


Like me, however, she was not overly fond of cold weather.


Or the holidays. She was such a stoic, though. She’d put up with anything for me. Anything.


Case in point. She was not overly thrilled with Monkey when he first showed up. But within a week or so, she’d come around, and then you couldn’t separate them without both of them totally freaking out. He’s sad now, too.


Like I said: she was just a really, really good dog. I miss her. I will always miss her.

take care, everyone.