The Story of a Story Song

Not the first song to say I loved her she loved me, and now I'm sad she's gone. But it was my first. StefStack's maiden run - the Scout the Dog edition...

We never went in for calling ourselves “doggie daddy” or “mommy.”

But, God did we love her.

Scout the Dog.

And how much life we shared and growing up we did in her exuberant, up-for-anything, judgment-free, keeps-no-record-of-wrongs company.

Before Scout arrived - from Jacksonville to Atlanta by car, then by Delta Airlines in a cat carrier to Boston and an all-out blizzard - it was just we two.

And she made our family something more.

Then came our kids - 1, 2, and 3 - making our family more and more, and our time and attention for her less and less.

But she was always in the mix. Always loving. Always faithful. Always true. Always seeking and reveling in our attentions and affections.

Maybe we all felt the same. There’s no way to know for sure. But wasn’t I her favorite?

When it was her time, letting her go was brutal. It leveled me.

We buried her and said words as a family over her grave, thanking God for the gift she was in our lives.

But my words didn’t really come for another year.

Just before Scout died, for Father’s Day, my kids and Ashley had given me a Goodwill guitar.

I didn’t know how to play, and didn’t take to it right away.

But, slowly, slowly, with some internet tutorials (with his good cheer and irresistible British accent, Andy Guitar was my guy!) and the Ultimate Guitar app, I’d learned to toddle through a few simple chords and songs. Among them, Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s in the Cradle” - a story song of a father and his son. Each verse recounts another phase of their lives and (it’s a sad song!) a new shape to their failure to be present to each other, and to savor the fleeting time they have to share.

My kids tolerated me playing and singing it to them as they went to sleep - a reminder to myself to stop, to notice, to be with and savor the being with them in the fleeting and magical days of their youth.

That next Father’s Day, we went camping on an island in Maine. I brought the guitar along. Strumming there on a grassy hill, my simple chords by the fire - G C and D - words came to me from the mystical place from whence words come.

And when they did, I wept - overcome by the love and loss of my true friend, Scout.

They were the words of a chorus:

You looked at me with those deep dark loving eyes

That silly grin - saying, “Whatever you’re playing, deal me in.”

And I knew you were my true friend.

On you, I could depend.

True friend

You were my true friend.

In the days ahead, the song took shape. Like “Cats in the Cradle,” each verse a chapter of our lives together - when she was new, when our first was born, when his sister and brother arrived, and when her time came to go. And, in each chorus, she looked at me with those same eyes, that same look, and I knew she was my new, my true, my faithful friend.

All strung together in a slide show (below) offering glimpses from those years that went by all too fast.

By no means the first song to say, I loved her, she loved me., and now I’m sad she's gone.

But this was my first.

And she sure was was my (and ALL of our) true friend.