Ruby

ÖRuby is my dog – a boxer we’ve had for 4 years. Ruby isn’t our first boxer; Jessie preceded her, when Jessie passed away we agreed that no dog would enter our home until we could talk about her without crying. It took almost two years – Jessie was special part of the family. Ruby was located searching breeders on-line – we ended up meeting the out of town breeder in the parking lot of a motel about 50 Km’s from home. It was a toss up between Ruby and “Peanut” – the runt of the litter. For a brief moment of insanity we considered taking both; in the end we settled on Ruby.

Ruby is a unique animal; perhaps the tail-gate in a motel parking lot should have set off some alarm bells, but we were oblivious to reasonable thinking – none of us cried at the mention of Jessie, it was damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. She refuses to “do her business” when it’s raining – we live in a rain forest Ruby! Proficient at being sprayed by a skunk; she shares the experience without fail, by rubbing her skunk face on my bedroom carpet. She barks with wild abandon at the vacuum; but only when the power head isn’t attached – the hose drives her out of her mind. Absolutely terrified of a “Slinky” – she refuses to look it in the eye – her head faces the dreaded toy , frozen with fear, her eyes strain for a far away corner of the room. Her face was split open when she ran full speed into a tree while looking back at a dog she wanted to play with. She has a fondness for used feminine products – consuming them any chance she gets.

One night I came home late from work opening the front door into a dark hallway. I thought she was playing with one of her stuffed toys. It was a hot night so my husband had the back door open onto the patio – a patio surrounded by trees full of squirrels. I flicked on the light and started to scream. She had caught a squirrel, and there it lay on it’s back with a pink squirrel boner pointing at me. Perplexed and rather annoyed when my son rallied and extracted dead squirrel from our hallway. My brother is a trapper,  later explaining the boner was a result of where she broke it’s back. Yikes. Another time she presented me with a dead rat.

“Fetch” is a concept that eludes her. This game goes one of two ways – either we throw the ball and she plays “keep away” or I throw the ball and she runs to my bedroom window, dropping it outside. The first time this happened I ran outside, retrieved the ball and threw it again. Three times I ran outside until it dawned on me – she’s playing “fetch” with me!

We blame ourselves ; much like the parent of a wayward child would beat themselves up. I try not to dwell on it too much – it’s stopped raining and I have to take her for a walk.

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14 thoughts on “Ruby

  1. Another good read. And believe or not i was just talking to my wife last night about our dog and how we as people are giving him human characteristics and considering posting about him vs. politics. How many times i have wished the little guy could talk is beyond measurement.

  2. Pretty cool photo of Ruby. I know dogs can become like e a family member I had to get rid of my border collie when I moved to the city and post like this remind me how much I miss that dog.

  3. I just had trhe chance to scope out the vid you sent me. Fantastic. They are one of my favorite bands. Both song and video were on top of it. Thanks for the heads up on this. I see wat you meant.>KB

  4. lol…. Great story. Yes, one wonders sometimes who owns who, right?

    Our two arrived as a result of our previous Boxer, Brunel,passing. She had cancer, was only six and died on my lap in our bedroom. It was hell.
    Anyhow, three days later, the guy that supplies our pet food – we also have cats, currently 11 but we did have 21 at one stage – no kidding – phones and says he has another client who has just got back from overseas and her two remaining boxer puppies had not been sold. “I know it’s so soon, but would you like to…….?”
    No!
    Yes!
    Maybe!
    When Neville arrived with these month-old emaciated ‘things’ my resolve melted and the rest, as they say, is history.

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