Note 66: Goodbye, Little Buddy

Earlier today, we said goodbye to Scotty. He had been suffering for some time from failing kidneys, and while I was away in Ireland, Holly let me know a few days back that we had finally reached the end of the line for the little guy.

He passed away this afternoon around 12:45pm Chicago time. He left us while napping with Holly on the couch of our first floor, and I was somewhere over Michigan on my way back from Dublin. We had scheduled a send-off for tomorrow with a specialist, but he – ever the independent fellow to the very end – left on his own timetable. He had been dealing with health issues for quite some time, so this wasn’t a big surprise to us – it was becoming clear in recent months and weeks that our time together was drawing to a close. I’m sad that I didn’t get to goof around with him one last time after my most recent trip, but I also can’t imagine a more peaceful or humane way to move on from this world.

We adopted Scotty shortly after I left graduate school in 2008 to start new software company. That was during the time when I shared an office with The House Theatre of Chicago (also, taken from us too soon) in a brick building in the Ravenswood neighborhood, when we lived in the River North neighborhood. We would take turns during those few years coming home to give the pup his lunch walk. I have one fond memory of taking him out around the holiday season a couple of months after adopting him, and we made our way as far as the Christkindlmarket in the downtown Loop. I had to pick him up and hold him in my jacket as we looked around at the holiday stalls. He was a big hit with the folks who saw his pink and black nose poking out. Before we moved to Lakeview, I would take him to his doggie day care at The Houndry on my way to the office, and I would pick him up on my way home. He made lots of friends at The Houndry (including completely charming the owner Sandra), and we were never able to quite recapture the magic of the place in subsequent places after The Houndry closed. On the train, he’d poke his head out of the special backpack I had for transporting him, and he would love to watch folks on the Red Line train. (I haven’t seen more folks smile on a train before or since.)

Scotty was always one of those dogs that had his own mind about things. We succeeded in doing just enough training, but he didn’t let that get in the way of his personality. We joked that if he ever ran off, we would know where to find him – either trying to sneak into the local dive bar for some treats, or the local hardware store for even more treats. He would make his own friends (Russ from the hardware store was his absolute favorite in the past year), and he was pretty patient around kids and strangers. He would humor the kids, and cautiously get to know strangers who didn’t seem too sketchy. That said, he always had an expression ready to let you know when you were just being dumb, and he wasn’t going to be any part of THAT.

I think he was probably relieved when we moved from the River North high-rise to our more neighborly digs in Lakeview. He made fast friends with the local pack (Bailey, Nutmeg, Gulliver, and sometimes Lola and Coco). It took me a few attempts, but I finally got a decent patio yard going, and he would love to hang out there and watch folks in the courtyard. He had favorite routes he’d like to take through the neighborhood on his walking adventures, and when he was younger, we ranged far and wide. In his later years, we didn’t get out as far, but would often end our walks with me in my Adirondack chair in the patio, and him lounging in his small yard, sometimes falling asleep (after eating a grass salad, which always perplexed me).

We almost lost Scotty back during the pandemic. Over a series of weeks early during that first plague summer, he became extremely lethargic and we took him to a local vet in the middle of the night, as things seemed to be progressing poorly very quickly. Since it was the Era of Social Distancing, I remember sitting for hours under an outdoor tent in the middle of the night, while vets determined what was ailing him. It turned out that he had some issues with his gall bladder – which had completely solidified by then – and we had it removed. His operation went well and after he recovered, it was like he was years younger. I consider that as bonus time, so despite us losing him now, he had a good run and then some.

Anyone who spent enough time with Scotty knew that he was a dreamer. He’d could (and would) nap just about anywhere, with his legs twitching and chirping half-barks as if he was in the middle of some grand chase. What he was running after, we have no way of knowing. I’m not a person who puts much stock in metaphysics or afterlives or heavens. I haven’t had to deal with a lot of death in my life, so the flood of emotions I’m currently dealing with aren’t something I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with or experiencing so close to me. That said, I hope that as our little guy was taking that one last nap with Holly, that time slowed down enough for one last recursive Nolanesque dream. One where he’s running and cavorting with those who passed before: Millie, Maggie, Bailey, Gulliver, Lulu, Murray, Daisy, Luna, Jack, Sampson, Ed, Bessie, and all those others whose names my memory has misplaced. I hope they’re running as a pack in a meadow with some trees, Scotty had zeroed-in on a particularly obnoxious squirrel for one last joyful pursuit.

I hope that in that final nap, time slowed down enough – as it so often does in dreams – for him to have all the adventures we never got around to, and to revisit (as many times as he would like) all the adventures that we did have and he enjoyed. I hope he finished his quest to find (and raid) the Fort Knox of Liver Treats, and he’s spent eons in dream-time hanging out with his pal Russ next to the power tools in the aisle in the hardware store after having charmed the ladies (Amy and Ellie) working the cash register for treats earlier. I hope he’s enjoying many long road trips, chilling out in his makeshift bed in the back seat of a rental car, quietly watching all the new scenery pass by. I hope he dreamed as many days as he wanted back at The Houndry, playing with his pals in the storefront next to the famous Sheridan S-curve of the Red Line. And like Bastian at the end of The Neverending Story, I hoped that last nap provided enough dream-space and dream-time for him and his Pack to go on all the other adventures we didn’t get around to for the short fifteen years we spent together.

Despite being such a small little fella, Scotty’s passing is leaving an outsized void in the lives of those who knew and loved him. He was everything – and then some – one could want or expect when wandering into the house of a random generous couple fostering rescues from downstate Illinois, with the intent of taking one of them home. He made fast friends with the people and dogs around him, and – like many dogs – provided the necessary social lubricant and excuses for chatting with our neighbors that helped us get to know those around us as well. He will be missed, but never forgotten.

I’ll close with this song, where Scotty has plenty in common with Dood’s Sam: