He's sitting on my computer desk right now, trying to push his head under my hands as I type. Every so often a paw reaches over the edge and presses a key. “No, Scout,” I tell him, “There is no letter q in the word computer. Unless it’s a Compaq, which it isn’t.”
“Mee-hee,” he replies. He’s a perfect audience; he thinks I am witty, even when I’m not. And then he settles down to nap , his little head strategically placed so that I can easily lean forward to plant a little kiss on top, between his ears. “Meep!” he’ll squeak.
I call him my most able bodied assistant, one of many nicknames and terms of endearments. He is my constant companion now; he follows me from room to room whenever I am at home. It wasn’t always that way. For several years he protested the arrival of our dog, Maggie, by choosing to spend most of his time under a huge shrub in the front yard of our old house.
It was during this dark period of our history, five years ago, that The Five Miracles took place.
The events began with the death of a close friend. Glenn was the most kind, gentle bear of a man there ever was. Cancer took him down in what should have been the prime of his life, too soon after meeting and marrying Nancy, the woman of his dreams, finally acquiring his small ranch with two horses and settling down to enjoy it all. He was gifted with animals, small and large; he loved them and they loved him. I am convinced that how people relate to animals is a good measure of their character.
After learning of Glenn’s death, Pat and I spent several nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep. It was full moon and the light coming in through the curtains added to our insomnia. On the third night after Glenn’s passing, I had just finally drifted off when I heard a commotion from our front yard; a shout, a car door slamming and then the sound of tires squealing as a car sped off.
I bolted upright and exclaimed, “Scout!”
I ran to the front window and looked out, all was quiet. I went out the front door with a flashlight and began calling for him, looking under the boughs of his bush house. He did not answer, and after searching around the entire perimeter of the house with no result, I went back to bed with a sense of dread.
I could not sleep at all that night. My sadness about Glenn was now accompanied by the terror that someone had done Scout harm. Visions of Satanic cult members performing a full moon ritual on my all black cat were burning themselves behind my eyes and I was nearly hysterical by morning.
Pat and I spent the hours from first light until we had to leave for work walking up and down our street, calling for him. Each time I passed Scout’s bush, I looked under, and each time I saw it empty I lost a little more hope.
I went to work that morning with a heavy heart. I could barely concentrate on what I was doing, and apparently Pat was having the same problem. In an extremely rare occurrence, Pat was actually sent out of the office that day on an errand. She took advantage of the situation to drive home to look for Scout. See, she already knew that my worst case scenario cult vision was not true because that morning in the shower she had a visit from Glenn.
It went something like this:
“Glenn! I’m naked”
“Pat, it doesn’t matter, I’m dead. Listen, I just want to tell you that I always knew you were a true friend, so don’t worry that you didn’t realize it was the last time when we saw each other. Oh, and Scout is OK.”
That was The First Miracle.
So, Pat finds herself at home at 10:00 that morning, an extreme rarity based on a conversation with the dearly departed and some unexplainable magnetic pull that drew her there. As soon as she got out of her car she walked over to Scout’s bush to check underneath. He’s not there. Just as she turned to walk back across the front yard, three big dogs ran up to her and circled her.
Pat is afraid of dogs. It is the reason she wanted to get Maggie; she hoped to break herself of the fear. It worked and she is comfortable around most dogs now. But on this day, when those three rushed at her, barking, she felt the old fear coming back. Obviously, I think most of us would feel more than a bit of trepidation about being surrounded by three large, loose dogs with no owner/human in sight.
But what happened next is truly incredible. Pat felt a wave of calmness wash over her. She felt no fear, just a sense of protection. “Go home,” she said to the dogs, and they all turned and trotted up the street. She went in the house and called me. That was when I learned of The First Miracle, right after The Second Miracle occurred.
“It was Glenn,” she told me. “He was right there, protecting me. It had to be Glenn; he was so good with animals. And I knew I was OK with him there, I wasn’t even afraid.”
And in that exact moment she realized what happened to Scout. The same dogs must have been on the loose the night before and they had flushed Scout from under his bush and chased him. But he ran like a track star and got away and was hiding somewhere. She simply knew it. She knew it because she knew she had been drawn home at that exact moment in order to have that encounter with the dogs.
Right after work that Monday evening we resumed the search for Scout, armed with a new understanding. I was still very worried, still had in the back of my mind that niggling fear that he was a victim of full moon crazies, but I was feeling much more hopeful. I had made flyers that day at work, so we started with our street first, knocking on doors and putting flyers in mailboxes, talking to neighbors who were outside on that balmy April evening.
Our neighbor a few doors to the north of us had an interesting tale to tell. Apparently that same morning another neighbor lady was out front when the same three loose dogs rushed her. Knowing who they belonged to she tried to lead them and return them to their backyard when one of them bit her. I guess he didn’t hurt her badly, but the story only reinforced the miracle that kept Pat safe on our front lawn.
We walked and called all that evening, when finally after dark, we were exhausted and so returned home to spend another night tossing and turning and worrying.
The next night, Tuesday, we set out right after work again, flyers in hand, and this time Pat felt drawn to the south, towards the elementary school. When we got to the school I headed for the street adjacent to it when suddenly Pat said, “No, this way.” So we turned and began walking down an alley. Most of the fences were chain link and by now dogs were beginning to go crazy in the way that dogs behind a chain link fence bordering an alley do. I expressed doubts that Scout would have journeyed this way, since dogs were the bane of his existence, especially now. But Pat pushed on. “Glenn says go this way,” she informed, and by now that’s good enough for me.
We reached the end of the alley after having looked behind every garbage can and under every clump of overgrowth and found ourselves on the street running parallel behind the school. We walked toward the east and soon approached a woman in her front yard and her two sons who were playing with a ball. We walked up to her and handed her a flyer and asked if she had seen Scout. I nearly fell over when she replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have seen him! He looks just like our cat, Shadow, and I saw them out here together the other night.”
On cue, from under the bushes in front of her house, emerges Scout who walks towards us. My heart leaped with joy (yes, leaped) and then I saw that “Scout” had grown much larger since I saw him last, and I realized that it was not Scout but the aforementioned Shadow walking towards us.
But this was certainly a breakthrough, we had a definite Scout sighting! We exchanged phone numbers and she promised to call us if she saw him again. We continued on, heartened that he must be around this area somewhere. We walked all over the several blocks surrounding Shadow’s house, calling. We went home after dark again, but feeling real hope. We’d just had The Third Miracle, as Glenn lead Pat right to Shadow’s house where Shadow’s family just happened to be outside.
The next morning we got up and made a beeline for Shadow’s house. People in that neighborhood must have thought we were casing the joint, or were some kind of crazed stalkers, we were there so often. And as would become a routine, after not finding him waiting for us at Shadow’s house, we would cruise around the adjacent streets searching, calling, crawling under bushes, poking through the alleys.
It was Wednesday and we were to attend Glenn’s memorial service in the afternoon. Pat and I both left work early that day to attend the service and the reception held afterward at Glenn and Nancy’s ranch. The memorial was a beautiful tribute to a wonderful human being; incredible stories were told, testimonials to the generous nature of a man who would literally have given the shirt off his back to someone who needed it. We laughed through our tears at stories of some of his Glenn’s wild youthful antics and we cried unabashedly during every story of his helping people, we sobbed through his favorite songs. There was not a dry eye in the place.
Emotionally wrung at the end, we walked up front to wait our turn to speak with Nancy who was receiving condolences by a table laden with pictures of Glenn from birth to the end of his life. One of the final pictures in the chronology stopped me short. It was a grainy candid, just a snapshot in a tiny frame. Wordlessly I tugged at Pat’s sleeve and pointed. It was picture of Glenn holding a black cat. We both just stared; we know a “sign” when we see one. Although Glenn had many animals, dogs, cats, horses, birds and rodents, and although many of the photos on display featured him with various pets, this was only photo of Glenn with a cat. A black cat.
There was no doubt in either of our minds; this was The Fourth Miracle.
When we got home from the reception that evening we went back to Shadow’s house to call for Scout and sit vigil in case he decided to make an appearance. And went home without him once again. We did the same thing after work every night that week. On Friday, which happened to be Good Friday, we stayed out longer after dark thinking that since cats are nocturnal we might have a better chance at a sighting. An interesting side note - after our first chance meeting with Shadow’s mother and her boys, we never saw any of them outside again.
It was the next morning, Saturday, when The Fifth Miracle occurred. I was in the bedroom putting on my shoes to go hang around over by Shadow’s house again, when suddenly Pat began to shout, “JEANNE!! HURRY!! SCOUT’S HERE! SCOUT’S HOME! COME QUICK!” I dashed to the door and there he was in the carport, a vision in black fur, meowing loudly! I scooped him up and hugged him and kissed him and cried for joy.
It was a wonderful reunion. I know he was as happy to see us as we were to see him; it had been a long ordeal for all of us. Later we theorized that maybe because we had walked over to the neighborhood that he was hiding in so many times that we had left a scent trail that he followed home. Or more likely Glenn showed him the way; it was so like him.
I give thanks to this day for The Five Miracles. Without Pat and Glenn, I’m not sure I’d be gazing upon Scout right now, leaning across my keyboard to put my nose in his sweet smelling, silky fur and having him answer me with a little chirp, “Meep!”
*This story originally appeared on my old 360 blog two years ago. It is reposted here because it is a story that belongs in this space much more than that one.
“Mee-hee,” he replies. He’s a perfect audience; he thinks I am witty, even when I’m not. And then he settles down to nap , his little head strategically placed so that I can easily lean forward to plant a little kiss on top, between his ears. “Meep!” he’ll squeak.
I call him my most able bodied assistant, one of many nicknames and terms of endearments. He is my constant companion now; he follows me from room to room whenever I am at home. It wasn’t always that way. For several years he protested the arrival of our dog, Maggie, by choosing to spend most of his time under a huge shrub in the front yard of our old house.
It was during this dark period of our history, five years ago, that The Five Miracles took place.
The events began with the death of a close friend. Glenn was the most kind, gentle bear of a man there ever was. Cancer took him down in what should have been the prime of his life, too soon after meeting and marrying Nancy, the woman of his dreams, finally acquiring his small ranch with two horses and settling down to enjoy it all. He was gifted with animals, small and large; he loved them and they loved him. I am convinced that how people relate to animals is a good measure of their character.
After learning of Glenn’s death, Pat and I spent several nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep. It was full moon and the light coming in through the curtains added to our insomnia. On the third night after Glenn’s passing, I had just finally drifted off when I heard a commotion from our front yard; a shout, a car door slamming and then the sound of tires squealing as a car sped off.
I bolted upright and exclaimed, “Scout!”
I ran to the front window and looked out, all was quiet. I went out the front door with a flashlight and began calling for him, looking under the boughs of his bush house. He did not answer, and after searching around the entire perimeter of the house with no result, I went back to bed with a sense of dread.
I could not sleep at all that night. My sadness about Glenn was now accompanied by the terror that someone had done Scout harm. Visions of Satanic cult members performing a full moon ritual on my all black cat were burning themselves behind my eyes and I was nearly hysterical by morning.
Pat and I spent the hours from first light until we had to leave for work walking up and down our street, calling for him. Each time I passed Scout’s bush, I looked under, and each time I saw it empty I lost a little more hope.
I went to work that morning with a heavy heart. I could barely concentrate on what I was doing, and apparently Pat was having the same problem. In an extremely rare occurrence, Pat was actually sent out of the office that day on an errand. She took advantage of the situation to drive home to look for Scout. See, she already knew that my worst case scenario cult vision was not true because that morning in the shower she had a visit from Glenn.
It went something like this:
“Glenn! I’m naked”
“Pat, it doesn’t matter, I’m dead. Listen, I just want to tell you that I always knew you were a true friend, so don’t worry that you didn’t realize it was the last time when we saw each other. Oh, and Scout is OK.”
That was The First Miracle.
So, Pat finds herself at home at 10:00 that morning, an extreme rarity based on a conversation with the dearly departed and some unexplainable magnetic pull that drew her there. As soon as she got out of her car she walked over to Scout’s bush to check underneath. He’s not there. Just as she turned to walk back across the front yard, three big dogs ran up to her and circled her.
Pat is afraid of dogs. It is the reason she wanted to get Maggie; she hoped to break herself of the fear. It worked and she is comfortable around most dogs now. But on this day, when those three rushed at her, barking, she felt the old fear coming back. Obviously, I think most of us would feel more than a bit of trepidation about being surrounded by three large, loose dogs with no owner/human in sight.
But what happened next is truly incredible. Pat felt a wave of calmness wash over her. She felt no fear, just a sense of protection. “Go home,” she said to the dogs, and they all turned and trotted up the street. She went in the house and called me. That was when I learned of The First Miracle, right after The Second Miracle occurred.
“It was Glenn,” she told me. “He was right there, protecting me. It had to be Glenn; he was so good with animals. And I knew I was OK with him there, I wasn’t even afraid.”
And in that exact moment she realized what happened to Scout. The same dogs must have been on the loose the night before and they had flushed Scout from under his bush and chased him. But he ran like a track star and got away and was hiding somewhere. She simply knew it. She knew it because she knew she had been drawn home at that exact moment in order to have that encounter with the dogs.
Right after work that Monday evening we resumed the search for Scout, armed with a new understanding. I was still very worried, still had in the back of my mind that niggling fear that he was a victim of full moon crazies, but I was feeling much more hopeful. I had made flyers that day at work, so we started with our street first, knocking on doors and putting flyers in mailboxes, talking to neighbors who were outside on that balmy April evening.
Our neighbor a few doors to the north of us had an interesting tale to tell. Apparently that same morning another neighbor lady was out front when the same three loose dogs rushed her. Knowing who they belonged to she tried to lead them and return them to their backyard when one of them bit her. I guess he didn’t hurt her badly, but the story only reinforced the miracle that kept Pat safe on our front lawn.
We walked and called all that evening, when finally after dark, we were exhausted and so returned home to spend another night tossing and turning and worrying.
The next night, Tuesday, we set out right after work again, flyers in hand, and this time Pat felt drawn to the south, towards the elementary school. When we got to the school I headed for the street adjacent to it when suddenly Pat said, “No, this way.” So we turned and began walking down an alley. Most of the fences were chain link and by now dogs were beginning to go crazy in the way that dogs behind a chain link fence bordering an alley do. I expressed doubts that Scout would have journeyed this way, since dogs were the bane of his existence, especially now. But Pat pushed on. “Glenn says go this way,” she informed, and by now that’s good enough for me.
We reached the end of the alley after having looked behind every garbage can and under every clump of overgrowth and found ourselves on the street running parallel behind the school. We walked toward the east and soon approached a woman in her front yard and her two sons who were playing with a ball. We walked up to her and handed her a flyer and asked if she had seen Scout. I nearly fell over when she replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have seen him! He looks just like our cat, Shadow, and I saw them out here together the other night.”
On cue, from under the bushes in front of her house, emerges Scout who walks towards us. My heart leaped with joy (yes, leaped) and then I saw that “Scout” had grown much larger since I saw him last, and I realized that it was not Scout but the aforementioned Shadow walking towards us.
But this was certainly a breakthrough, we had a definite Scout sighting! We exchanged phone numbers and she promised to call us if she saw him again. We continued on, heartened that he must be around this area somewhere. We walked all over the several blocks surrounding Shadow’s house, calling. We went home after dark again, but feeling real hope. We’d just had The Third Miracle, as Glenn lead Pat right to Shadow’s house where Shadow’s family just happened to be outside.
The next morning we got up and made a beeline for Shadow’s house. People in that neighborhood must have thought we were casing the joint, or were some kind of crazed stalkers, we were there so often. And as would become a routine, after not finding him waiting for us at Shadow’s house, we would cruise around the adjacent streets searching, calling, crawling under bushes, poking through the alleys.
It was Wednesday and we were to attend Glenn’s memorial service in the afternoon. Pat and I both left work early that day to attend the service and the reception held afterward at Glenn and Nancy’s ranch. The memorial was a beautiful tribute to a wonderful human being; incredible stories were told, testimonials to the generous nature of a man who would literally have given the shirt off his back to someone who needed it. We laughed through our tears at stories of some of his Glenn’s wild youthful antics and we cried unabashedly during every story of his helping people, we sobbed through his favorite songs. There was not a dry eye in the place.
Emotionally wrung at the end, we walked up front to wait our turn to speak with Nancy who was receiving condolences by a table laden with pictures of Glenn from birth to the end of his life. One of the final pictures in the chronology stopped me short. It was a grainy candid, just a snapshot in a tiny frame. Wordlessly I tugged at Pat’s sleeve and pointed. It was picture of Glenn holding a black cat. We both just stared; we know a “sign” when we see one. Although Glenn had many animals, dogs, cats, horses, birds and rodents, and although many of the photos on display featured him with various pets, this was only photo of Glenn with a cat. A black cat.
There was no doubt in either of our minds; this was The Fourth Miracle.
When we got home from the reception that evening we went back to Shadow’s house to call for Scout and sit vigil in case he decided to make an appearance. And went home without him once again. We did the same thing after work every night that week. On Friday, which happened to be Good Friday, we stayed out longer after dark thinking that since cats are nocturnal we might have a better chance at a sighting. An interesting side note - after our first chance meeting with Shadow’s mother and her boys, we never saw any of them outside again.
It was the next morning, Saturday, when The Fifth Miracle occurred. I was in the bedroom putting on my shoes to go hang around over by Shadow’s house again, when suddenly Pat began to shout, “JEANNE!! HURRY!! SCOUT’S HERE! SCOUT’S HOME! COME QUICK!” I dashed to the door and there he was in the carport, a vision in black fur, meowing loudly! I scooped him up and hugged him and kissed him and cried for joy.
It was a wonderful reunion. I know he was as happy to see us as we were to see him; it had been a long ordeal for all of us. Later we theorized that maybe because we had walked over to the neighborhood that he was hiding in so many times that we had left a scent trail that he followed home. Or more likely Glenn showed him the way; it was so like him.
I give thanks to this day for The Five Miracles. Without Pat and Glenn, I’m not sure I’d be gazing upon Scout right now, leaning across my keyboard to put my nose in his sweet smelling, silky fur and having him answer me with a little chirp, “Meep!”
*This story originally appeared on my old 360 blog two years ago. It is reposted here because it is a story that belongs in this space much more than that one.
3 comments:
and it is STILL an incredible and wonderful tale...
I am finally getting around to reading this post. And like Deaanne, I still find it as incredible and wonderful as I did when I first heard the story. It's been so great having you in my life. You, Pat and Denise have really opened my eyes to other possibilities and have helped me see hope that there is something after this, material, life. I guess I was meant to meet you and Pat when I did because it was around that same time that I became more in tune with my dreams and started entertaining the possibility of the spirit world. Amazing stuff, to put it mildly! :)
scout is so handsome in person.
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