This holiday, I said my last goodbye to my very old and faithful companion, Scruffy. Whether you’ve lost a dog too early in their life to an accident or disease, or you’ve seen them through until they are old and frail, it’s never easy to say goodbye.  I’m happy and proud of my old boy, Scruff and the very long and adventurous life he had. Scruffy left this world sucking the last delicious marrow from the bone of life; thoroughly worn out and tired.

Scruffy first came into our lives over 10 years ago when we lived in rural northern Thailand. We had just moved into a cute little house in a village surrounded by banana groves and rice patties. My daughter was painting her bedroom walls and looked out her window to see a skinny, mangey, sorry-looking dog appear on our front patio.

“Mom! There’s a dog outside!” she announced.

This wasn’t such a strange occurrence in rural Thailand. Dogs, chickens and sometimes other pets and farm animals roamed freely.

I looked out our kitchen door to see this straggly ginger and white stray dog lying underneath our picnic table seeking out a quiet place to rest. I immediately went to our fridge to see what food I had on hand to offer him.  All I had was a bit of rice, but it was a staple for all Thai dogs.  I put it in a bowl and placed it on the patio for him to eat.

Scruffy would return occasionally to our property, and each time we would offer him something to eat. I bought a bag of dog kibble to ensure I was prepared with some suitable food for his visits. One day, Scruff turned up when my daughter got home from school. She didn’t know where I stored the dog food, so she offered him some of my husband’s prized and brutally expensive Italian salami. Well, Scruffy was hooked! After that, he came around more regularly in accordance with our daily schedule. It was then that I was able to add medication to his meals to help get rid of his mange. Over time, I was able to briefly put a hand on him to pet him. It was during these occasions I would sneak some flea powder in my hand and work it into his coat as I gave him a little scratch.

Over several weeks, slowly but surely, we gained Scruffy’s trust. He would spend most of his time in our garden and we were able to pet and handle him more.  After four months, he finally ventured into our house for the first time. I doubt he had ever been in a home before. At one point, he discovered our couch and made himself at home. I gently drew the line there and let him know that our hospitality didn’t include dogs on furniture. He eventually learned to lie on the dog bed we gave him. This was a whole new experience for him as well – to have a soft place to lie his weary bones!

We were his people now. I was able to vaccinate him (thanks to a small donation of Italian salami!) and bathe him. By this time, I had adopted a puppy from one of the temples where I helped care for the dogs. He seemed to know he had to accept the obnoxious puppy, and respect us and our home in order to keep this good thing going.

Being a street dog, and a well-seasoned one at that, I never expected Scuff to become a real member of our family. I thought he would value his independence and freedom over committing himself to humans whom he had every reason to mistrust. But when it was time for us to leave Thailand to begin a new life chapter in Italy, there was no doubt that Scruffy was coming with us as our family dog. He endured having to be castrated, microchipped, trips to the vet for health checks and blood tests, and a gruelling long flight from Thailand to Italy.

While in Italy, he adapted to a Western, more restrictive, doggie lifestyle. He became a connoisseur of pizza crusts, he chimed in with the church bells with his mournful, melodious howl, and experienced snow for the first time.

Scruffy travelled many more times with us as our job situation changed – from Italy to Nova Scotia, to British Columbia, then to Malaysia for a year, then finally to Quebec, his final resting place. He put up with it all, adapting and coping with the stress and change that would give many less resilient dogs PTSD. As long as Scruffy had his family (especially me), together with his daily walks, meals and a soft place to sleep, life was good. I think his time as the neighbourhood stray taught him to appreciate the important things in life. We could all learn a lesson or two from his playbook.

He’s had more adventures in his doggie life than most people do in a human lifetime. Together with my other dog, Pi, he killed a King Cobra in Thailand, hiked mountains in Italy, frolicked in three different oceans, encountered various Quebec wildlife, and has travelled by land, sea and air – and these are only the adventures I know about. Scruff was blind in one eye. There’s got to be a story to tell there too, but we’ll never know the details.

I can’t say for sure how old Scruffy was. He seemed about middle-aged when he first entered our lives back in the fall of 2010. He just kept on carrying on with life year after year. But in 2020 he started running out of steam. He was a tough old curmudgeon, followed me like a shadow, forever loving and grateful to those who saved him. We didn’t choose him as our pet. Rather, he chose us; and we’re more the richer that he did. He taught me how to repair broken trust and to love him for who he was – quirks, rough edges and all. He taught me patience, understanding, and the benefits of taking life a bit more slowly – qualities I didn’t know I even needed. 

Thanks, for teaching me, Scruff. Thanks for choosing us. And thanks for hanging around for so long. You’ve had a good, long run. Now it’s time for a well-deserved rest. 

We love you.