When a special pet dies: A Eulogy for Scout

I pause, mop and bucket of soapy water in hand, to look one last time at the tiny clay paw prints that crisscross my wood floors.

I hesitate to wash them away and consider taking a photograph as a keepsake—the last evidence that he was here, but my logical, sensible side argues, "It was just a cat." I take a few breaths, attempting to keep the tears at bay. You see, I believe, a pet is a just pet... at least in theory, and until you throw a sweet, one-eye orange tabby kitten into the picture.

Scout was an abandoned kitten, rescued and taken care of by the wonderful local feral cat organization, PAWS of Sayville. He was sickly when he and his littermates were found, and as a result, lost his left eye. On adoption day, unlike the other mewing kittens who clung to us with their razor sharp claws, when the PAWS volunteer placed that slinky yellow kitten in my 14-year old daughter's arms, he was placid and content to be held, and even started to purr. We hadn't considered adopting a physically disadvantaged pet, and at home, getting used to his new surroundings, he ran into table and chair legs. We cringed and then laughed when we realized he was fine. The sweet nature of that kitten made him a good choice with my young children.

My kids agreed on the name Scout. As they didn't agree on much those days, that was a big deal. Scout was supposed to be my daughter's cat. Not mine. I was a young mother with more than enough responsibilities. I didn't want another charge to take care of, but when my children weren't home, our new kitten followed me around, room to room, making games out of my everyday tasks, like bed-making, where he'd run under the sheets and try to catch my hands as I tucked and smoothed bed corners. I found I didn't mind my new shadow companion. The packed out eye-socket caused some health issues in those first weeks home. When I took him to the veterinarian's office, I remember placing him on the examining table, so small and defenseless, but still so trusting, and my heart expanded with love and admiration for that brave yellow kitten.

Scout and Jazmin

Professed dog-lovers, both my husband and son expected to feel indifferent to our new pet. But Scout wasn't going to sit idly by and accept that. He pushed his way into every moment, watching television with us, lying nearby at dinnertime, curling up next to us while we read and slept. It wasn't just those quiet moments, though. Scout endured the kids playing with him, loving him, and handling him in the way energetic kids do, all without biting and scratching them. He domineered the dog's bed, looking kingly in the center of the oversized cushion, was an unexpected mouser, befriended our two dogs, and if a cat could have a sense of humor, Scout had one. He loved to play and was always up for a little fun. A kitty arm would suddenly appear from behind furniture, or upon his perch on a chair, he would swat at one of the dogs passing by, instigating a little good-natured interaction. He was proudly introduced to all who entered our home.
And even the cat-haters who spent time at our house could be found petting our cool, one-eyed cat. Scout was always around, and such an easy presence, visitors could neither ignore nor resist liking him.

Scout and Luna

The years brought a lot of changes to our family. My daughter grew up, went away to school, and took a job out of town; our two dogs aged and their lives ended; and new pets entered our lives. Scout was with me through it all. Several years ago, we brought home a kitten to keep him company. Unfortunately, she came with a case of ringworm. The kitten didn't suffer from the fungus, but she passed it onto Scout. Treatment called for frequent baths and topical medication. Scout, like any cat, had a strong distain for water, but true to his nature, he endured the baths and daily medications and barely gave me the stink eye afterwards. At an advanced age of 11, when most animals are intolerant of changes, Scout made allies with our new, giant, not-so-gentle Greater Swiss Mountain puppy. Their interactions, highlighted by their extreme physical dissimilarities, brought about a new energy to the house and many laughs.

Scout and Winston

Illness came swiftly and without notice. The average housecat can live 15 years, some as long as 18, and at 12, Scout had grown into a fairly large, healthy male cat. We fully expected to have him around for several more years. We attributed his less active behavior to growing older, but when his fur became rumpled and dull, we took a trip to the veterinarian. We were shocked when blood and urine results revealed kidney issues. We thought we could manage the condition with a special diet and medications. The first week, everything went to the wayside as I catered to Scout's condition. I had to administer fluid under his skin via a needle. As usual, Scout was a champ, letting me stick him daily without much fuss. That first week he seemed fine, but two days later, the bottom fell out. He went into complete kidney failure, and Scout's health rapidly declined. The veterinarian suspected it was cancer, and his once strong body became like a twisted towel, wrung of moisture, weak and bony thin. His once insatiable hunger, the one that our family often joked about, was gone. Uremic ulcers in his mouth made it too painful to chew. He spent his days in a new hiding spot, under the entertainment center, and when he left it, it was only to drink, which he did almost every hour, a futile effort to make up for what his kidneys could no longer do. He swayed like a leaf in the wind on his way to the water bowl, putting his feet in the water as if trying to absorb the liquid through his skin and flush his body. The combination of constant wet feet and need to use the litter box created that crisscross pattern of clay paw prints across my floors.

It's a terrible choice to have to make to put a pet down; even when you know it's merciful to do so. The vet administered the sedative and put him in my arms. He tucked his little face into my chest and went to sleep. That gentle soul purred right up until the end.

It's my inclination to try and be logical about the loss of yet another family pet. I grieved the loss of the others, but I am truly brokenhearted over losing Scout. He was extraordinary and stands alone in my mind and heart. As I mop away the paw prints, the last visible traces of Scout's presence, I am flooded with memories of little moments of laughter and comfort he brought to my family and me on a daily basis. Those moments are as countless as they are precious. His little kitty shoes will be hard to fill and his absence will be felt a very long time.

Rest in peace little buddy...

Scout 2004-2016

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