Scoot was our first family dog, acquired by my mother from a Pennsylvania pet store on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. I was five years old, Scoot was the runt of the litter, and she sold for $5, which would be $50 with inflation.
Back then, most pet shop dogs were puppy mill products, and those that die not die from distemper or vehicle impact, had a very high chance of ending up in a kill shelter.
In 1965, about 20 percent of all dogs in the US were euthanized every year, with 90 percent of dogs in shelters euthanized within 5 days of being admitted.
Scoot lived and was much loved. She traveled to Morocco, Algeria, Kansas, and Virginia before dying at age 15 in Washington, DC.
Scoot’s name fit perfectly in Morocco and Algeria where “a-scoot” means “shut-up” in Arabic.
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