Scooby.

It’s weird how we take things for granted. Something as simple as seeing someone everyday, and then one day they’re gone, all you have left are the memories and pictures. Granted I’m not talking about my mom or someone like that, but my dog was just as important to me. June 2nd, 2014 was probably one of the worst days of my life.

Now lets take a step back in time. It’s a couple days after my third birthday, we just moved into my house a few weeks ago. I was so excited because my parents had said once we got a house of our own I get a puppy. We’re out at the skating rink in Tillamook, my grandma works there so I get free birthday parties, and I can hear my dads truck pull into the parking lot. I’m so excited I’m nearly jumping out of my skates. My dad opens the big grey metal door, and in runs this chocolate lab puppy. He jumps on me and is licking my face, and normally I would think that it’s so gross, but I don’t even care at the moment. I’m just happy to have my own dog.

Now as a kid I loved the Boomerang channel, my favorite show was Scooby-Doo, it only seemed right that I named my dog that. I mean he looked just like that dog off of the cartoon! Besides the fact that my dog didn’t have black spots, but I could live with that. Scooby, Scoob for short, was the perfect dog. He hadn’t quite grown into his paws yet so he just clambered around the house, his tail was as thick as little Alder tree, he was the sweetest, most well mannered dog, and he was so calm and laid back. I just loved him to pieces. Scooby and I did absolutely everything together from day one. I guess you could say we were best friends. I remember this one time we were all sitting in the living room watching tv and I fell asleep on the floor. When I woke up Scoob was laying on top of me to keep me warm. I would always take naps with him, especially by the wood stove. That was our favorite place to sleep. We would also dance in the living room, when he was smaller of course.

The morning of June 2nd, 2014 felt like a bad dream. It’s an awful feeling waking up and knowing that the thing you love most is just going to die. Just as simple as that, gone. I just couldn’t believe that Scooby was being overtaken by cancer. He had it in his mouth at first, but then it spread to his throat, and was slowly making its way to his head. I woke up extra early that morning just so I could spend more time with Scooby. I brought him in the house and we just sat in the house all morning and watched tv. Time was definitely not on my side that morning. I just wanted the time to drag on and seem as slow as possible, but before I knew it we were in the truck and on our way up to the Nehalem vet. I just sat in the truck dead silent, waiting was the worst part. At about 10:30 we got to the vet. My dad had to lift Scoob out of the truck because he couldn’t jump in and out anymore. So I walked him into the vet, and I’m expecting that the doctor will just put him down as soon as we step through the door, but the doctor actually let me spend some time with him and walk around the place with Scooby before he asked if I was ready to start. I replied “Yes,” as calmly as I could, even though in every fiber of my being I was screaming no and wanting to cry my eyes out. So he gave Scoob the first two shots. He was fine for a little while, but then he started to stumble around, like a boxer when they get caught by a nice right hook. So we took Scoob into the little waiting room, and the room was right inside the lobby and it was open so the animals wouldn’t feel trapped. There were big windows and nice wooden doors with glass windows. After I was done admiring the craftsmanship of the waiting room I realize that Scoob’s sleeping, from the shots, so I sit on the floor by him while my parents sit in the chairs. We just pet him and tell him we love him for what seems like hours, and then the doctor walks in and asks,
“So do you think you’re ready to put him down miss?”, I can only nod my head yes because I can feel the tears brimming my eyelids, and that choking feeling you get when you’re about to cry.

The doctor gave him that last shot, the shot that would end his life and only leave me the memories and pictures of Scooby. It was so peaceful, the way he just slipped away. I remember how he took his last breath. It was as if Scoob was trying to suck all the air out the room, then he just let it all out. I was shocked at first, I’d never had to put down an animal before so I wasn’t really sure how to react. But once I realized that he was gone I couldn’t hold back, I just started crying. I sat on the floor in the waiting room with him, even though he was gone, and was just petting him. I remember his eyes were still slightly open so I closed them. My parents and I didn’t really say anything while we were in there, we all too busy crying. I think we sat in the room with Scooby after he’d been put down for about half an hour. Then the nurse, he was a guy, and the vet came in.

“How’re ya feelin?” the vet asked while rubbing my back.

“I’ve had better days,” I replied with a hint of sarcasm, as I wiped the tears off my my cheeks with the back of my hand.

“Do you think that you’re ready for us to take him?”

I could tell that he was ready, and I knew I couldn’t sit in that little room with Scoob forever so I said, “Yeah.”
Then the nurse bent down, and sort of struggled to pick Scoob up. Even though he only weighed 74 pounds, that’s still a lot of dead weight to be picking up. When the nurse finally did get him picked up Scoob just looked so lifeless. It was the saddest thing that I had ever seen. I broke down and started crying all over again. Then the nurse just walked away with Scoob in his arms. I was just standing in the middle of the waiting room crying, then my dad came over and wrapped me up in a hug. It was surprising because my dad was crying also.

“Everything’s going to be alright, it’s better for it to be this way,” my dad muffled to me through my hair.
I couldn’t even say anything. I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. Then after a couple minutes I finally calmed down and we walked up to the front desk. We told the lady that we wanted Scoob to be cremated, and they gave us a list of the places we could send him. The one in Astoria was one of the cheapest and better suggestions, so we went with that one.

I think it took about three weeks for Scoob to get back to the Nehalem vet, and my mom and I went up there and got him. He’s in this black urn and it sits on my entertainment center in my room. When my dad got home he walked in and asked,

“Did you guys go get Scoob today?”

“Yeah, he’s sitting on the kitchen table,” my mom said with some amusement in her voice, and a smile on her face because she thought she’d said something clever. Which she had, because I never thought I’d hear her say that. After everyone got home and knew we had him back, we all unspokenly decided that Scoob would be kept in my room. It only seemed right since he was my dog. It’s weird not having him around, but it was for the best. It’s crazy because right after we put Scoob down, about a month later my dog had puppies and the one we kept reminds me exactly of Scooby.