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As I mentioned at the end of last week’s article, we have a new member in our family, our dog Ruby. In the last few months, she has been adjusting to us, as we have been adjusting to her. As with any new personality being introduced into an established environment there are always bumps in the road, but fortunately, they have been very few.
Before Ruby arrived, we were still mourning the loss of our last dog, Stella. Well, at least my wife and I were. We got Stella before we had kids and she was always our dog more than she was theirs. Stella viewed them more as interlopers on her territory. They never had an opportunity to grow together, they only grew apart.
My wife and kids were never part of the care giving aspect of Stella’s existence. That was my job, which in essence, made her my dog. I was the one doing the majority of the feeding and all of the poop gathering. I work at home and she would spend her later days curled up in a ball outside my office door barking at intruders, real and imaginary.
After her passing, I was enjoying being dogless for a while. Free of the responsibilities that come with owning a pet, not to mention the expense. But unknown to me there was plotting going on behind my back. As most fathers will attest to, while we think we are in control, we really are nothing more than a pawn in our families’ game of life.
While I was thinking that I was the one in charge of the dog acquisition committee, I was just fooling myself. The only thing that was keeping this family from getting a dog at that very moment was our impending vacation and not wanting to subject a new dog to that kind of turmoil.
Within 48 hours of our return home there was an active push by the majority in the household, that being my wife and kids, to start looking for a dog. My vacation was over in more ways than one as we went from one place to another searching for a new dog.
Our parameters were simple having learned on the first dog go around. First of all, no puppies, nothing less than one year old. At this point in my life I had neither the time nor the inclination to completely train a dog from scratch. No big dogs, German Shepards, Great Danes or St. Bernards were out. On the other end of the spectrum, no little dogs. Miniature anything was not to be considered. I mean anything that is smaller than a full-grown opossum in my opinion is not a dog, it’s just an over grown rodent. There are many people in the world who love them, I just don’t want them in my world.
The other prerequisite was that we wanted to get a dog from either the pound or a rescue organization. We tried the one rescue place that was located in a residential neighborhood. I thank god that I don’t live anywhere near that place and my deepest sympathies go out to anyone who does. But to be honest, the dogs didn’t look too good and many seemed to have health problems.
We finally ended up at the place where we had found Stella, the San Gabriel Valley Humane Society. We looked for quite a while and saw many likely candidates but we didn’t want to rush into anything, well at least I didn’t, so we started to make our way out when I went down an aisle we had missed and there was Ruby.
 She was a little over two feet tall to the top of her head and was a beautiful golden color. She was a mix of Labrador retriever and Golden Retriever and was 14 months old. She was in a cage with another dog and both were vying for our attention. They were jumping all over one another in the process. As soon as my wife saw her she was in love.
After a brief meeting with Ruby in a little room they have so you can get to know the dog, she charmed my wife and kids even more with her hyper activity and licking kisses. Her name seemed to fit so we decided to let it ride. A vote was taken and Ruby was on her way to a new home, and that’s where we would see her true colors.
Shortly after getting her home we were given a little display that further validated her lineage. While we were letting her sniff the entire property she gave us a little display of her quickness. As she intensely sniffed the ground doing her best bloodhound impression, a bird, not seeing Ruby, swooped down approximately four feet above her head. Without missing a beat Ruby leapt into the air and grabbed the bird.
I was so in shock it took me a minute to act. She turned and started to go into the house with the bird still flapping in her mouth. I grabbed her by the collar as my wife and kids screamed and closed the front door. As I held her by the collar and shook her to try and get her to drop the bird I could feel and hear the bones crunch as she quickly devoured the bird. It was all over in two minutes and I began to wonder about the height of our fences and walls. Not to mention the birdbath I had just bought. Oh well I guess it will make a nice planter.
We noticed right away that she was already house broken, a really nice plus, and she knew how to knock at the back door to go out. She was also still young enough to teach her how to fetch and give.
One of the most important reasons I like having dogs is for security and for the first couple of weeks the dog didn’t bark once, and I was starting to get worried. When she finally did I immediately went out and praised her. Now that she has settled in and feels as though the yard is her domain, she guards the yard with a fierce protection.
That is a good thing. Recently I was told through the grapevine that some of the striking grocery store workers, unhappy with things that I have written about the strike, have been trying to find out where I live so that they could “vandalize my house.” Apparently they want to follow the lead of their brethren in Costa Mesa a couple of weeks back. But unlike Stella in her later years, when Ruby barks I know it’s real and it’s a good feeling to know she’s got my back all day while I work.
Make no mistake, this is not my dog. This dog belongs to my kids and my wife and I have tried to make that clear by passing the responsibilities and my pooper-scooper to them. When they are at home I can always find Ruby curled up in a ball on one of the kids’ beds while they are doing their homework. If not there, she is leaning against my wife like one is a magnet and the other is steel. Or much to my wife’s dismay, when she is standing and talking to me, Ruby will sit on my wife’s feet, and this dog has one bony butt.
But bony butts aside, she is a great dog. If I can just get her to stop digging holes in my yard, I couldn’t imagine our family without her, but don’t tell my family.
The Shrub Speaks: It's not a dictatorship in Washington, but I tried to make it one in that instance. New Orleans, Louisiana, January 15th, 2004. In response to his making faith-based groups eligible for federal subsidies.B.D.’s Response: I have nothing against faith-based groups, but I start to worry when the Prez refers happily t being a dictatorship.
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