Why Scooby-Doo Is My Comfort Show

Scooby-Doo has always felt less like a TV show and more like a presence in my life. Something that’s just always been there, in different forms, at various stages, quietly following me along.

Some of my earliest memories of Scooby-Doo are from when I was out of school. Those half-sick days where you’re wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, the house is quiet, and daytime TV feels like a secret world you’re not usually allowed into. I remember watching the original Scooby-Doo series in those moments, the 1969 episodes with their soft colours and slow pacing. There was something about them that perfectly matched the mood of those days. Calm, slightly eerie, but never overwhelming.

It felt like company.

As I got older, Scooby just… kept appearing. What’s New, Scooby-Doo? was on when I was growing up, and it felt like a natural continuation rather than a replacement. Brighter, louder, more modern, but still familiar. Same voices, same rhythm, same comfort. Even as the animation style changed, the feeling remained the same.

It was still Scooby.

The movies are where the nostalgia really hits though. I had The Witch’s Ghost and Ghoul School on VHS, and I watched them over and over. There’s something about owning a film physically as a kid that makes it feel more personal, like it belongs to you rather than just something that exists on a channel.

The Witch’s Ghost is still my favourite to this day. It feels darker than the others, more atmospheric, yet still gentle. The setting, the story, the Hex Girls — it all stuck with me. It felt like a Scooby story that trusted its audience to sit with a little bit more mood, a little more unease, without ever crossing into anything too intense.

Even now, it’s the one I always go back to.

Looking back, I think Scooby-Doo worked so well as a comfort show because it never asked much of me. You don’t have to follow a complicated storyline. You don’t have to prepare yourself emotionally. You can drop into any episode, any era, any film, and you already know the rules.

They arrive somewhere strange.
Something weird happens.
They get scared.
They figure it out.
The mask comes off.

No matter how spooky the setting, the ending is always the same. Fear is temporary. Everything has an explanation. Nothing is ever truly out of control.

As an adult, I still put Scooby-Doo on in the same way I did as a kid when I’m tired, when I need background noise that doesn’t feel like noise, when I want something familiar that doesn’t demand attention.

It’s not about nostalgia in a “things were better then” way. It’s more than Scooby-Doo feels like a constant. A thread that runs from childhood into adulthood without really changing shape.

Different art styles, other voices, different formats — but the same feeling.

I think that’s why Scooby-Doo will always be my comfort show. Not because it’s perfect, or groundbreaking, or even especially deep — but because it’s consistent. It’s gentle. It never surprises you in ways that feel cruel or overwhelming.

It just shows up, does what it’s always done, and leaves you a little calmer than it found you.

And honestly, that’s magical.

Stay groovy — and keep unmasking.