Scout aka Mr. Man (2008-2010)

We had to put Scout down a few weeks ago. He came home one day after about 36 hours of being away from home. He had a bad limp - but the thing that really freaked me out was that his tail wasn't moving, responding to anything. I knew he was not good, so I confined him to his sick room (sad that he had one) and cuddled with him for awhile. I witnessed him climb into his litterbox and have nothing happen at least six times. He was eating and drinking, so I knew this was not good. Later in the day he started leaking some fluid, quite a bit darker than urine. He wouldn't climb into his usual spot in the room, so I spread some blankets for him on the floor. He did not look comfortable.



We knew he had to go to the vet - we considered the Emergency services at the vet school, but it was $125 just to see the doctor! We said no thanks, we would rather see our rockstar, Dr. Reisdorf, who can squeeze us in whenever we need.

Wes was able to come to our appointment - which I am incredibly thankful for. I could not have been there by myself. On the way to vet, Scout leaked more fluid, very bloody urine in his carrier. He was really lethargic and calm, which is unusual for his trips to the vet. It was like he knew.

Dr. Reisdorf concluded that he had some sort of trauma to the spine where his tail connects to his body. He had NO feeling in the tail. None. Nerve damage of that sort can cause problems with bladder and bowel function. His bladder was on the verge of rupture... he leaked more blood during his exam. Scout needed emergency surgery just to save his life. The bladder needed to be drained and held open. His tail needed to be amputated. The bladder fix was temporary - there was no guarantee that it would function normally. Dr. Reisdorf had never seen a cat with these injuries.

I found Scout at Pride Park. I came for practice one day, and the girls were playing with a cat they had lured out of a tree in the parking lot. We had the worst practice ever that day. Scout was so excited to play soccer that he would claw his way out of my arms and jump free onto the field to chase the ball. Play would stop as someone scooped him out of harms way. And then we would start over. Again and again. He was panting so hard after chasing the ball, but could not stop. It was like he was trained to stalk. After practice I couldn't send him home with a player and I couldn't leave him there. I called Wes with a big, "Guess what!?"

The first night we had Scout, we knew he was wild. There were signs. He would stalk us in the house. He was teensy, so when we went to sleep that night I was scared I would roll over on him and squash him, but also scared that he might attack in the night. Ha!

We tried to keep him indoors. All he wanted to do was go outside. We would play with him for hours and he would not tire. Scout was a hunter - he needed something to pursue, something to stalk.



He was known for jumping into and hiding in laundry baskets, chasing after the laser pointer, crawling into weird closet spaces, jumping onto high shelves, looking out windows, curling up in sinks, knocking over full clothes drying racks, and drinking running water. He knew when he was needed. He cuddled with me when I was sick, sat with me when I worked late into the night to finish a paper (and tried to drink my wine), and slept with Wes on the couch almost daily during Wes' exhausting intern year. He cooked with me. He slept with us. He took walks with us (seriously - after we got Rosie all four of us would go for a walk around the neighborhood). He cuddled with Rosie and teased her to no end. He crawled into the bed with Rosie and I after a night of prowling. He woke us up as he entered the bedroom - just to alert us to his presence - and then climbed on his tree to spend the day basking in the sun. He taught Rosie how to climb on the back of the couch and get excited about birds and squirrels. He would climb onto my chest for a cuddle when I most needed it.

Wes and I sat with Scout in our room at the hospital trying to decide what to do. Mostly we were crying and petting Scout, because I think we knew what needed to happen.

Dr. Reisdorf was amazing. Supportive, calm, informative, understanding. Scout didn't move at all when the needle went in. Not a bit. Didn't make a sound. We rubbed him and eventually he put his head down and went to sleep.

He was everything. He is everywhere. Everywhere I look in the house I see him.




He buried him in a place where he has room to run. He is in a grove of trees in between a pond and a meadow overlooking more fields. I can see him peering out from the trees getting ready to pounce. Or running around the fields, and with every bound looking more and more like a lion.

When we buried Scout I wrote: "Yesterday and today and I'm sure tomorrow will be spent in tears or on the verge of tears - but my tears are very selfish. I want Scout to be here and I miss him. But through the tears I can see the joy of the 1 1/2 years that we had with Scout. The joy of the time we had far outweighs any sadness I feel now."

And that is still true. Wes and I laugh about Scout and his mannerisms daily. We hear "meows" on a regular basis and wonder where it is coming from... We miss him and we always will.

We miss you Scout and are thankful for you.