One Dog's Life
Fiesty, funny, fearless Scout
OBIT
Jean Louise Finch “Scout” Rountree
May ?? 2016-Sept. 8, 2024
Jean Louise Finch “Scout” Rountree, the Rountree’s feisty canine companion of eight years, died on Sept. 8 at the NCSU Veterinary Hospital from complications of an unexplained spinal cord injury. She was eight years and something.
Rescued on a bright May day by way of Saving Grace Animal Rescue, Scout “rescued” her owners from grieving over their beloved Little Ronald Reagan, who had recently died of kidney cancer. By her third night in her new home, she was sleeping on the bed between her humans, the only dog in their 43-year marriage to wiggle her way under the covers. Within weeks, she had curled herself up on every bed, chair and sofa in the house, her favorite spot being on somebody’s lap already sitting there.
Scout, fond of kissing everyone within reach of her tongue, wooed the doctors, nurses and students at the vet school with her frequent tongue action and her stoic demeanor amid what all said must have been great pain. And this formidable furlady knew pain, from her first months, we think, as she was rescued from the back roads of eastern North Carolina, having been on the run from somewhere in the months leading up to her establishment in Vestavia Woods. Feisty by nature (likely from her hardscrabble roots) she was kicked out of one doggie day care for too many infractions. Two years ago, a bigger dog grabbed hold of her neck and shook her like a rag dog, likely because she was talking junk.
A nurturer at heart, whenever we’d give her a rawhide-free dog bone, she’d run into the yard and quickly bury it, only to return to the back door with her nostrils full of dirt and the bone secured in her teeth. We’ve found bones folded up in the remains of her favorite stuffed animals—which she always chewed to shreds— in planted pots on the deck and even tucked into a sleeping bag rolled up and stored in an attic cubby. She loved French fries, the remains of any sandwich and chasing shadows dancing across the pavement. She adored (most) of her friends “on the track” — Cane and Stella and Izzy and Harley and Rocky and her beloved Sook, who greeted her in heaven. And quiet mornings napping in every sunlit space she could find. Summer tomatoes might have been her favorite food, and somehow she knew when Sooze made the first slice on the chopping board, appearing by Sooze’s side without making a sound. (And Sooze would give her the heel, a piece she never shared with anyone until Scout came along.) So of course, we served tomatoes as part of her last meal on this earth.
Named for Sooze’s favorite literary character, she lived up to her namesake in her spunky nature, and in the fact that whenever she walked, she was first and foremost a scout, her ears shifting like a satellite dish in search of a signal, and her nose searching out if her arch rival Lucy was anywhere near her on the track.
But most of all, Scout loved her people, showering them with her kisses, nudging closely to them at any chance, and taking their warm spot under the covers if they got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
In addition to Rick & Sooze, she’s survived by Grace & Harold, Sookie’s human family, who loved her despite her many shortcomings; her away-from-home family, Ann & John, who adored her from the first moments she boarded with them eight years ago. And the folks at Armadale Farm Kennel Daycare, who quickly taught her that screaming in public places is not allowed. She was predeceased two months ago by her beloved cousin Mudd and three weeks ago by her human grandmother B. We asked her to seek B out upon her arrival in heaven, and we know she is sitting on B’s lap, licking ... forever licking.
We thank the doctors at the NC State Emergency Veterinary Hospital, who came to admire Scout’s stoicism and kisses in her short time with them.
Scout was our fourth dog and our most challenging. But we wouldn’t not have a dog because one day we will lose them. And she taught us overwhelmingly how to love, no matter what.