Reves Family Blog: August 2012

This is going to be hard to write. It's been hard to think about, talk about, everything, because it's about one of my babies. My first baby actually, Scout.

Scout was a birthday present from Bruce when I had just moved to Westmoreland after college, substitute teaching and horribly, horribly homesick. I had never and still haven't seen anything more adorable than a baby basset hound. He instantly was my whole world and overnight I became one of those crazy dog people.

Everyone liked Scout (except my brother and that's just because he outran him) his personality, his long ears, short legs, and the best howl in the world. He was a great guard dog and sounded really scary, even if he instantly rolled over for a belly rub as soon as you crossed the thresh hold. He was cuddly, loved to go on walks and ran around like a crazy man after his baths. He was fine to hang out on his own or go everywhere with you. He was a great dog. Was.

Scout definitely had 9 lives. A lot of people would have given up on him long ago and when his seizures started, when he had to endure surgeries, but not us. How could you do that to your little guy? If there was a medicine or surgery that wouldn't make us sell the house, we did it. This summer was different though. It was pretty obvious that he was slowing down. He was 11 after all, so that was understandable. He tolerated Cooper and had even grown to love him. He was still always excited when we walked through the door. My mom is the one that mentioned that he had a bump on the side of his neck after Cooper's birthday party. I admit that I'd noticed it before, but it wasn't anything alarming and honestly, it was under his ear and because I couldn't see it, I kinda forgot about it. However, we noticed it again and it had gotten bigger, really bigger and really quickly. We got him in to the vet and with bloodwork and a check-up, found out it was cancer. The one word you NEVER want to hear. His counts were low and there was a medicine to try as it wasn't in nis nodes yet. We tried it and nothing changed. The lump got bigger. We tried another med and talked about setting something up with K-State for removal, but it was in too tough of a spot and we thought he may not make it through that or the recovery. Without saying it outright, our family was preparing for the rough road that pet owners have to take. Scout was weaker by the day and not himself at all. I took him into the vet for a check up and he ended up staying for 3 days. Three very long days and many, many phone calls within those 72 hours to check on how he was, how he felt, if he was doing any better. Finally the nurse gave me the good news that he had perked up and could go home. When I walked into the vet that night, he was barking in the back. I hadn't heard Scout bark in weeks and my heart was elated to think he had improved that much! When they finally walked him down the hallway, I was crying so hard that I couldn't talk, the nurse was crying, the doctor was crying and a man waiting his turn on the bench beside me was tearing up. Scout was back to my good old boy! I truly didn't believe I would see him alive again and here he was wagging his tail and hustling to see his mama.

Sadly, it wasn't meant to last. He was on his seizure medicine, chemo meds to shrink the tumor and antibiotics to help with his immune system from the chemo meds. He was doped up and slept nonstop. We had to wake him up to go outside. I had to carry him down the steps to use the bathroom and then back up when he was done. That was not very easy with a 50 pound sack of potatoes and a house full of stairs. It was not going well. In our hearts we knew that we had limited days with him and tried to spend as much time with him as possible. We were in dog hospice.

The last morning he was at the landing on the basement steps whining. At the top of the steps was a huge wet spot. I don't know what happened, but he'd had a few accidents here and there. That morning I found 4 inside and he'd been outdoors a few times. I thought he was gone when I tried to give him a piece of bacon and he didn't even open his eyes, lift his head, wiggle his nose-nothing. I called for Bruce to come help me get him upstairs. We knew this was it.

Bruce talked to the vet and the plan was to take him in after-hours at 6. Cooper and I stayed home because I think Bruce knew I wouldn't handle the situation and secretly I was relieved. He took him in, they gave him a shot to calm him, another to let him go and that was it. Bruce drove him up to his grandparent's farm, where he loved to run and play and buried him.

I haven't been able to make it up there yet. Some people might read this and think how silly I am, he was just a dog, but they're wrong. Scout was our first baby, the first grand-dog. He was there when we brought our son home from the hospital. He has been with us through it all and I loved him as much as people do their kid. There is a hole in our hearts, a void in our lives, a missing brown and white lump on the dog bed, that Scooter refuses to lie on. We love you Scout Henry. You blessed our lives like only the best dog can and hope you are running and howling in Heaven.