My sadness over Scout’s passing has throttled my work ethic temporarily. It damn near held me back from writing anything today.
I make no apologies. I’m sure you understand.
There are a few things I want to say, though, before any more time goes by. First, I won’t be blogging about my experience yesterday — not now, not soon, not at all. That’ll remain forever between Scout and me.
What I will tell you is that when she left this world, she was coming off of a great 24 hours, right through Sunday evening. She walked with confidence (if not necessarily steadiness). She was playful with Smudge.
She got many of her favorite treats that day — like pizza crust, Pop-Tart corners, and bits of JJ’s cherry pies. Shredded cheese, too. I made rice and mixed it with her kibble, and she chowed down three straight meals. She got to lick my ice cream bowl.
Recalling her happiness gives me comfort. It also makes me smile, even now.
Second, I want to address the suggestion that I adopt another dog, both for me and to replace Smudge’s departed buddy. A number of folks, publicly and privately, have urged me to do that.
No.
Hell, no.
Not now, at least.
My reason is practical, not emotional. I want to get this damnable divorce done and over with before I even consider that kind of commitment. If I lose my home — and right now I have no reason to doubt that’s the objective — then I’d have my hands full with just Smudge.
So, no.
And third, many have expressed concern about Miss Smudge. She’s processing our loss, too, of course.
My happy Heeler is subdued. She’s never known her forever home without Scout, and it’s clear that she feels the absence.
This is a breed known for “separation anxiety.” I’m mindful of that.
Since we moved into the cabin, Smudge has slept on the bed with me, always at the foot, opposite where I stretch out. Last night, however, she was right up next to me, pressed against me. She stayed there all night.
Smudge always has had my unconditional devotion. Now she has my full attention. We communicate, we play, and we cuddle.
She’ll be fine.
We’ll be fine.
Finally, I want to talk about you.
Hundreds of you read yesterday’s post. In the hours that followed, I received dozens of expressions of love and consolation — public comments on my social-media posts, private messages, texts, and e-mails sent through this blog.
I heard from a few people I never imagined would reach out to me, but they did. The outpouring has overwhelmed me.
Today I simply want to thank y’all for lovin’ on Scout — and Smudge, and me — even from afar. That means everything to me. I’m grateful for your kindness.
And now, Miss Smudge and I will take time to pause, reflect, and adjust. Then we’ll move forward and live our best American Life on The Mountain.
My girl Scout would want that.