Remembering the Golden One

Eight years ago, when John was at a meeting for scouting at Seven Mountains Scout Camp, he first laid eyes on Scout.  At the time, Scout was a half-starved kitten who kept jumping through the cabin window to eat the Subway sandwiches that were being served.  When the people got tired of his antics (and got tired of putting him back outside), they closed the bottom half of the window, and he crashed into it when he tried to once again jump through.  John took sympathy on him and brought him home.  I could hardly believe it when I walked in the door, and he told me that he had a "surprise" for me.  I'll never forget seeing Scout, all wet and clean after a bath, sitting on the tile floor, looking rather pathetic.  How could I say no?  It didn't take long for Scout to grow into a HUGE tomcat.  He was all about the food, both in the cat bowl and in the fields.

When I came home from Interlochen last August, I noticed that Scout didn't look quite right.  Whereas he had always had lustrous fur (as Mark liked to say), his fur was thin and matted.  Too, I could tell he had lost weight.  I tried brushing him out, but it didn't seem to make any difference.  In October, we took him into the vet to see if he could figure out what was going on.  The tested him for all kinds of skin conditions, but everything came back okay.  The vet gave him a shot of antibiotics, and we hoped for the best.

One week ago today, we had to put him down, because he had developed squamous cell carcinoma underneath his tongue.  The reason he had appeared to have a skin condition was because he couldn't clean himself properly.  There was a bit of mercy with the cancer in that we all had a chance to say goodbye to him over Christmas.  When I had taken him back to the vet, mostly because he smelled like rotten meat at that point, the vet had told us that he only had a few weeks left.  Eating was already difficult for him, and the cancer was a large, bleeding tumor.  Over Christmas, everyone was sure to give him a few extra loves when he was around (which wasn't much because he was sleeping most of the time by this point).

It's a crazy thing, to make an appointment to put your animal down.  You keep thinking that maybe you have a few more days together, but Scoutie was suffering, and we knew it was time.  John and I took him in, after dropping off Glo at school.  He got a catheter in his front leg by a technician, and then we gave him some last loves before the vet came in.  It only took a matter of seconds.  One injection to force him to fall asleep, and then one injection to stop his heart.  He looked rather frail afterwards, his once handsome body, just laying there, smelling bad and looking worse.

I have heard stories of people who have died and then been brought back to life.  Every person recounts the same story.  As they die, they have an image of looking down on their body from above, seeing the situation as they died. I don't know if it's the same for animals, but I wanted Scoutie to see that we were there with him to the very last minute.  John told me that I could go wait in the car, but I didn't want Scoutie to think that I had left him.  I had to be there.

Dr. Griffiths then just scooped him up in a blanket and walked out of the room.  In a minute or two, he returned with a large white box.  He apologized for taking so long--it was because Scoutie wouldn't fit in one of the smaller boxes, so they had to get a bigger one for him.  This made us laugh a bit.  We brought him home, and John buried him under the pines.

I don't think anyone misses him quite as much as I do.  Being home with the animals everyday, they are just a part of my daily existence.  It feels like someone is missing.  Mostly, I miss seeing him, curled up under my desk, and hearing him snore.

Each of our animals has their own funny traits and habits, and Scoutie might have taken the prize.  Here are a few remembrances:

• Scout had the thickest, furriest tail.  It was fun to pet him from head to the tip of his tail, because as Mark said, he was so lustrous.
• Soon after Scout joined our family, John began calling him "the Golden One", after a Rush song (The Larger Bowl).  In it, "the golden one" is mentioned.  As we were driving to the vet, we played the song in the car as a last tribute to Scoutie.  It was touching to hear the lyrics and see how they applied to Scoutie, and his shorter-than-average life:

If we're so much the same like I always hear

Why such different fortunes and fates?

Some of us live in a cloud of fear

Some live behind iron gates.

Why such different fortunes and fates?

Some are blessed and some are cursed

Some live behind iron gates

While others only see the worst.

Some are blessed and some are cursed

The golden one or scarred from birth

While others only see the worst

Such a lot of pain on the earth.

The golden one or scarred from birth

somethings can never be changed

Such a lot of pain on this earth

It's somehow so badly arranged.

Somethings can never be changed

Some reasons will never come clear

It's somehow so badly arranged

If we're so mud the same like I always hear.

Some are blessed and some are cursed

The golden one or scarred from birth.

While others only see the worst

Such a lot of pain on the earth.

• Scoutie suffered from anxiety, and it manifested itself in the winter.  He wouldn't go outside when it was cold, or snowy, and for some reason, this caused him anxiety.  He would consequently lick ALL of the hair off of his belly and his back legs over the course of the winter.  The first winter, we were rather worried that we might end up with a bald cat, but once he was able to get outside again, he stopped and it all grew back ;-)  The next winter, we knew what to expect.
• Scoutie also suffered from allergies.  Again, we didn't do anything about them (no meds for anxiety or allergies), but boy oh boy, did he love a good hand to rub his eyes against!  It was always funny to see how long anyone could stand it before they had to throw him off and go wash their hands!
• We had no idea that Scout was actually STUBBORN until John tried to potty train our cats.  Everyone had it, but Scout absolutely refused!  It didn't matter now much John would cover the floor in the bathroom (while Scout was locked up in it), Scout would refuse to step on the toilet and would consequently find ANY available spot in the bathroom.  He completely thwarted John's genius plan.
• Scoutie snored.  Like, LOUD snoring.
• When I worried about the cats and their safety outside, John would always say, "Scout is like the lion on the seregetti."  And indeed, when we would see him in the fields, he DID look like that.
• Scoutie was infinitely patient with our dogs and puppies.  In fact, when we brought Maizie home last year, she learned quickly that the other cats would have nothing to do with her (except leave a bloody gash across her nose).  Scout, though, was good with her.  When they were about the same size, she would walk up to him, trying to play.  When she annoyed him enough, he would actually pin her to the ground...and she loved it.  As she got bigger, he would take a more advantageous position by sitting on the back of the couch or the kitchen table.  She would jump up to see him, and he would grab her head in his paws.  He would then lick her face and rip out her fur.  Again, she loved it.  I developed a voice for Maizie when she found Scout:  "Friend!  Where have you been, friend?"  It was a tender moment.

We are so thankful for our animals.  People always think that they are my idea, but John is the one who brings them all home.  We wish they could be with us longer, because it's hard to have them for so short of a time.  We love you, Scoutie.  We'll see you on the other side.