Oh boy, I have been a mess the last week. Ever since March 6th and Scout’s initial visit to the emergency vet in Atascadero — which is 30 minutes away, I might add — and a confusing diagnosis as to what was going on with him, my life hasn’t been the same. Here goes: The back of his head became more sensitive to the touch, so much so that whenever I scritched him gently behind the ears, he whelped in pain. Then his appetite waned. For Scout to have a minimized desire for food was a signal enough to take him to the vet.
He started breathing a bit more heavily as well. I always feel as though a trip to the vet elicits anxiety and stress for him, but this time, it was different. His gums were still healthy and pink and his nose was cold to the touch, all signs that his vitals were okay. Once inside the vet, it took more time than I had liked for him to be seen. I understand there are other, more severe, cases of animals who need care, however, my gut sensed that Scout needed care right away. I cried to the front desk gal, and she probably thought I was crazy. I’m good with that, especially when it comes to my boy.
The doctor on staff took x-rays, blood work, and several other tests whereby she came to the conclusion that it looked like he had a pinched nerve in his neck, mainly by how he was holding his head and being super sensitive to the touch. She gave us two strong anti-inflammatories and sent us on our way. In the pouring rain. It was somewhat of an omen, as the cleansing of one rainy day after another here on the Central Coast not only hampered our walking adventures, but Scout and I had to reorganize how often and where we wanted to go without getting flooded out. Once he was on those meds, he wasn’t super stoked to walk much anyways. My heart kept sinking…a feeling…a knowing…a preparation. Ugh.
Every day since I took him to the vet, his health started to decline. I initially thought it was the sedation effect of such strong anti-inflammatories, but something else was up. I called the vet a few times to voice my concerns and they said if I was not seeing any signs of improvement, I needed to head over the hill and take him in again. So I did. Four more times, for that matter. The final emergency was too unbearable for me to even speak about until now.
Today is a new moon. I’ve seen 8:18 and 11:11 on the clock, the numerology sign of new beginnings and beautiful transformations. On March 13, late in the afternoon, we rushed Scout to the emergency vet after he had a rough night of pain whenever he moved his head, whenever he stood up, whenever he was held in my arms. I slept with him for three nights in a row, his entire body propped on mine in a horizontal position, making certain his head didn’t get into any weird positions that would cause him pain. I was completely flummoxed as to what was going on. A pinched nerve surely can’t create this much pain, I thought.
As I was working at my desk and Scout was lying at my feet, sleeping and breathing rather peacefully, he awoke belting out the loudest scream imaginable. I called Greg, my love, right away. With his experience in EMT, he said we needed to rush Scout to emergency again, so we did. Scout was lying on my body in the front seat, his eyes glassy, and his breathing so labored I was sobbing with him. It was heartbreaking to see such a loving and joyful dog go through so much without ever knowing the real reason why. He was basically unconscious on the drive over. My life felt like a horrible nightmare at that point.
We called the vet en route and let them know we have a code-red emergency situation. They met us at the door and took Scout in right away. After about 20 minutes, the front desk person said we needed to meet with the doctor in a room. I knew it wasn’t a good sign. Whenever you have to go into a private room, the diagnosis is grim. And it was. The vet doctor had been trained in neurology and let us know that Scout had all the signs and bodily symptoms of a growing brain tumor. He wasn’t sure my pup would make it through the night.
Greg and I screamed and cried about as loud as I’d ever done in my life. I’ve been blessed with 9 dogs prior to Scout, yet nothing prepared me for how I would feel knowing he wouldn’t be going home with us. We had to let him go. As I write this, my entire body is heaving with tears and sadness. Grief is good and healing, I keep telling myself. But, with Scout being only 9 years old, this felt way too soon for him to go. I’ve talked to God. I’ve asked for answers. I’ve walked and cried and meditated on why he was taken so young.
You’ve read about Scout’s adventures with me since I adopted him in 2015. He’s the reason 8 Paws Wellness is here and was birthed. Scout had a knack for spreading his joyful and curious nature to everyone he met. He and I wrote two books about how our love and connection would transcend all we’ve encountered. Today, I have dreams of a third book in the Scout series. He’s guiding me on when to begin and what to write. I have a hunch it will be about the very thing that brought us together and kept us spinning in this world. The book will be different, it will be galactic, and it will be intuitive and beautiful. With Scout’s passing, my heart is responding to every nuance that presents itself. It hasn’t been easy, but losing a beloved animal never is.
For almost 9 years, Scout and I and our 8 Paws Wellness journey have included every road trip, every encounter with children and the elderly, all of his adorable meetups with restaurant and coffee shop patrons, our trips to visit family and friends, and his unique blend of human and dog skills. Dang, he was SO SMART and SO LOVING, I miss him every moment of every day. Although I know he’d want me to carry on with his messages of peace, curiosity, imagination, and joy, I’m finding it’s not that smooth sailing in our community, as the signs of him are everywhere. People are coming out of the woodwork to offer their condolences and it touches my heart so profoundly that Scout had such an intense effect on them.
Greg and I have been blessed with the most amazing neighbors, those who Scout has met and graced over the years. Greg’s lived in Los Osos for almost three decades, yet once we showed up and offered our gifts, the neighborhood took on a newfound tone of brilliance and fun. I attribute it to Scout’s loving energy, through and through. I was merely his voice and his guide whenever he needed me. Otherwise, Scout led the way in all interactions. He was never stubborn; he simply knew a better way to live and he showed me each day.
Thank you to everyone who has checked in with me, who has sent me warm and beautiful text messages, who have called and offered support, and who has bestowed our house with flowers, cards, and gifts of perfect sentiment. I’ve vowed to live up to Scout’s standards of living — simple, genuine, smiling, silly, and oh-so-everlasting. His energy has remained in those hearts he’s touched over the years. That alone makes my own heart happy and well. It may take time to overcome what my life looks like and has looked like, for the past 8 1/2 years. Currently, I walk at dawn and have conversations with Scout, his energy guiding me every step. It feels weird and uncomfortable, but I suppose it gets easier over time. I don’t know…
I’m not entirely sure what will happen with this website as of now, but I do know that as a tribute to Scout, he’d want me to keep it going for a while. He was such a cool dog, the coolest ever on the planet. Me without him has been interesting and tender, but I’m doing my best to walk as much as he and I did, go to places we loved, and practice yoga every morning as if he’s right there with me. My adorable furry muse is gone and I’m hoping my writing talents can lift up to the heavens and ask Scout to keep me going. I cry a lot, and it’s cathartic. I write in my journal a lot, too. Scout comes through my energy every moment. He taught me to be a finer human, in all ways, and always.
Please hold him in your prayers and know that this world was a happier and more kind place with him in it. My gratitude to all who have followed us here. I love you.
Gerry Ellen xoxo (and Scout, from the galaxy of perfect beings)
