In 2005, I moved back to my parents' place. I really did not want to
make the move back home. I'd been out of the house for close to 10
years. The idea of living with my parents again was about as appealing as
watching a weekend marathon of
The Housewives of OC with the fridge only
stocked with egg plants and spring water in fancy glass bottles. My
parents are great, and I love them. It wasn't like I'd be losing out on
any freedoms. But there is always this feeling of falling backwards when
you need to limp back to the bedroom you grew up in and spend your first moment
of your morning chomping down Captain Crunch with your dad sitting across from
you. But I had decided it made the most sense to return home, because I
was going to attend a university that happened to be in my hometown, Wilfrid
Laurier's Brantford campus. If I was going to return to the city I grew
up, then why not save money by sleeping in the same bed too. It didn't
mean I had to like this obvious decision or be happy that I returned home.
But there was something that made my first few months back much more
enjoyable.
Scruffy, the family dog.
By the second night of returning home, Scruffy decided she preferred to
sleep in my bed with me. If I was home, she'd follow me around the
house. We went for a morning and evening walk. Sometimes we just
enjoyed the sunlight in the backyard. If I was at home, I was probably
with Scruffy.
When all the boys moved out of the house, I think Scruffy started to get a
little lonely. She didn't get the same attention that she was used
to. I think she was really happy to see me back, even if she was never my
dog. My dad actually bought her for my youngest brother, and for the
first few years, it was pretty clear she was his dog. He then moved off
to University, and she was just sort of left to her own devices. My
return was the first time she ended up getting a lot of attention again.
I didn't think I wanted pets. I did as a kid. But as I got
older, I wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with the hassle of training them or
making sure I was home to feed or let them out to do business. It seemed
restricting. Especially when one is in their 20s, and likes to trick
himself into thinking he has a busy social life. I loved animals.
I'd voted against having pets again.
Until I came home and spent those months with Scruffy. I quickly
learned the bond you can get with a pet. How much joy and happiness an
animal can give you. It was cool having a dog that wanted to be near me
at every moment and was ready to instantly play and give me affection. It
may be partly because most of my friends had got out of Brantford and my then
girlfriend but now wife Emily was living in another city, but Scruffy became
one of my best friends at that time. I shared my deepest thought and
biggest fears with that dog. She just listened. She loved me with
me no matter how odd and scary my thoughts turned out.
Scruffy was the dog that convinced me that I needed pets. Human
interaction is important, and the only way to avoid being a hermit with a 50
pound beard. Pets give you something that no human is capable of
giving. I love my wife. I love my son. I adore my friends.
But there is something a loyal and loving pet can give that is something
special and very different. It isn't necessarily better. But it is
very important. Scruffy taught me that pets give an indescribable feeling
that no other thing can ever give. My time with her is the reason we ended up
getting both Crosby and Summit. Two pets that I ended up loving more than
I ever thought possible for animals.
Emily started to get to know Scruffy too. Scruffy wasn't taught too
many tricks. She was amped up with attitude. Emily was convinced
she would train this dog to do a few things. Like most things with my
wife, she succeeded. Scruffy loved impressing Emily with her new found
skills. We also took Scruffy on a lot of hikes. We did it enough
that Scruffy would jump into Emily's car the moment a door was opened.
Before Emily, a car meant an awful trip to the vet. Emily's car meant
transportation to some place wondrous with amazing smells and different things
to see. We did a lot of things with that dog for the two years I lived
back home.
I got married in 2008, and my other brother moved back home. Scruffy
then attached herself to him, and usually hid out in his room. I didn't
see her much when I came to visit. But I always remembered the time we
spent when I returned to live with my parents.
Scruffy was an old dog. 15 years old. In the past year, she
needed to be carried down the steps. She couldn't hear when the front
door was opened, so she never came down to visit. I saw her a few times
in the last year, but she was a different and weaker dog. She wasn't the
dog I remembered.
Scruffy passed away in her sleep on Monday. When my mom told me, I
thought it would hit me harder. I thought it might leave me in tears the
same way
the
loss of Crosby wrecked me for a few days. But it didn't. I
think it is partly because I've expected this day for a long time. I'm
surprised how long the stubborn dog stuck around. Maybe also because I
moved on to new pets that I adopted as my "kids" and grew to
love. Scruffy really never was my dog, but I do have those special
memories.
Scruffy, thank you for showing me how amazing pets can be. Thank you
for making several days in my life far more bearable. You were a great
dog. I'll miss you.
RIP Scruffy 1996 - 2012
Comments
Post a Comment