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See Ruby's Dogster Page!
The Story of Ruby, and Where She Came From
Many of you know me from when I owned cats and described me as a "Cat person." I'd always take issue with this and say I was an "animal person." My lifestyle never supported having a dog while I was in apartments, and when we moved to the Chase House, we never found a right dog.
They say all things happen for a reason, and of course, we didn't have our laundry hooked up for the first few months, so every week or so, I had to load up and schlep to Globe to the closest laundromat.
Our first visit, we found a handwritten note on the Central Heights Laundry bulletin board, advertising a "Queensland Heeler." The title was actually "Free Dog."
I called and got a call back a few days later. The dog was in Winkleman, about 30 miles away, and we agreed to meet so I could see the dog, back at the laundromat.
I got there, and an older, white Chrysler minivan circled the lot a couple times, presumably, I'd like to think, to look at me me and make sure I wasn't in the habit of selling puppies to vivisectionists, or a vivisectionist myself. Father, son and little sister got out of the van with the dog.
The father was wearing what looked like an oil cloth duster that had seen better days, with a well used hat. He had a beard and mustache and looked like he worked his farm or ranch hard for a living.
The son looked like a normal teenager in jeans and a black t-shirt, but his little sister, who looked 3 or 4, was just a little angel, in dirty purple fluffy slippers and T-shirt, and cartoon flannel pajama pants. She had shoulder length almost white blond hair, and the biggest blue eyes you could imagine on a child.
The dog had no collar, but was on a lease that had the length threaded through the loop to make a noose around its neck.
I asked the dog's name, and was told, "Escape." I asked how she got that name and was told, "Because that's what she does." I asked if she was housebroken, and told, "don't know, she ain't never been in no house."
When I said, "so this is a Queensland Shepherd," the son corrected me and said, "Heeler, not shepherd." I took a picture with the phone and sent it to Jim. (We have since found out she is actually an Australian Cattle Dog. Other names for Ruby's breed are the Queensland Heeler, or Red/Blue Heeler.)
All Jim had to say was, "So you gonna do it?" So I did.
I took the wrong end of the leash, so I had the dog secure, and the family piled back into its van.
As the door shut, I heard the anguished shrieking, "Where's my doggie?" that deteriorating into screaming and sobbing as the little blond angel was driven away without the dog.
I still hear that screaming sometimes when I dream about finding the dog.
The dog survived the trip home in the Festiva, with a stop at Walmart to buy a collar, a tie out, dog food and treats, such as I thought appropriate. I had to lift her up to put her in the car, she was obviously not used to being around people and certainly not treated as a pet. But she had a sweet friendly disposition, but her tail tucked securely between her legs.
Got her home, and used the tie out to secure her, she was going to be our security dog.
Jim and I decided to call her, "Ruby."
Ruby managed to chew through her tie up on the second or third night, and we woke up to find her proudly sitting with the loose end in her mouth. Chewing became our torment for the next few months, until we found the right chew toys to keep her busy.
We have also restored the fence so we don't have to worry about tying her up. Being on the chain or cable is now only a short term punishment, for when she leaves her yard to go investigate the mine, or go to the Chicken Lady's house to steal her cat food bowls.
Ruby has wormed her way into being a house pet, too. We have gone from "no dogs in the house," to dogs only in the house sometimes, " from "dogs don't sleep in the house," to dogs sleep in the house sometimes, but not in thJune 7, 2007oom if they really need to."
Ruby is my puppy alarm. Jim gets up and lets her in after he gets up and for fun will let her into the bedroom. Ruby always thinks the time for me to get up is, "NOW!"
Ruby has a boyfriend, Buzzy (or Buzzard, as Jim has named him.) Buzz lives down the street and just gets to run wild all the time. He has learned how to tweak the gate to let himself in the yard and the pups playfight and go swimming in the doggie pool. I am waiting for someone to call the police over the fighting dogs in the yard. Jim and I know they are just playing.
We think Buzz is an Australian Shepherd. His eyes are half white. Pretty cool looking dogs.
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