Karen and I lost our kittie Scout on Thursday. She had been running and playing all day as she always did, then came in for her regular afternoon nap. The weather that day was so nice we decided to take a walk at our local park. When we returned about an hour later, we found her asleep in one of her favorite spots, but when we petted her, she didn't respond. Scout was still relatively young and the personification of health. It has been a completely unexpected and devastating blow. Our only consolation was the belief that she passed peacefully in her sleep.
The next day, after we had pulled ourselves together somewhat, we began to make a list of her wonderful qualities. It went on for five pages. One of my favorites, other than the fact that she was the happiest and most loving of kitties, was how she was always bringing us things. It began when she was very young, and she would bring us acorns. She would search for us with the acorn in her mouth, meowing earnestly, then drop it near us with a look that seemed to say, "this is for you". Eventually she moved up to pine cones. Without exaggeration, over the years, it numbered well over a thousand. Sometimes eight to ten a day. It was so cute to see her emerging from the trees with a pine cone in her tiny mouth. Occasionally she would add something new that she had discovered in some distant part of her territory; a styrofoam cup, a little plastic toy hand grenade, a badminton birdie, and once a little American flag. In the last few years, she began to raid our stash of plastic grocery bags I had tied into knots to line the trash. If we forgot to close the pantry door, you could hear her, usually in the evening, going through the big bag of bags, searching for that perfect one, then the meow as she made her way upstairs, followed by a soft crunch as she dropped it gently onto the floor at the foot of our bed. What I wouldn't give to hear that sound just one more time.
Scout was a sweet, sweet kittie . . . .