Ruby – a black dogs story.

“I’m so sorry! She’s mine, she’s not supposed to be here with me but my mom was giving me a hard time…” he trailed on as our dirty dozen piled into the smoothie shop. I was the first to see her. She was as little as a bunny and as dark as coal.
“Can I hold her?”
“Sure, just please don’t tell my boss.. I’m not supposed to have her here but no one else is working and well..”
“I love her, I won’t say a word. Whats her name?”
“Paris”
“Paris?” I thought theres no way you’re a Paris little puppy, you’ve got to much spunk. If you were mine I’d call you Ruby.
Before we had all even received our smoothies the boys brother had come in to inform he could not keep her.
Thats the story of how we met and she became mine, my first dog.
That was 15 years ago, after a perfect Sunday, playing ultimate frisbee with my little brothers and some friends down at Matheson Hammocks park.
I’d put her in my big black bag and it seemed as though she disappeared she was so dark. I’d look for the gleam in her eye when she stared back at me. I didn’t appreciate her puppydom enough… her legs were so small, so she couldn’t run with me yet and I was worried of how big she would grow so I wouldn’t let her sleep in my bed. I was new at this whole thing too.
Books were still the number one resource for me so I rushed to get “Labrador Retrievers for dummies”.
I had been told by more than one person that getting a dog was a bad idea for someone like me… “you know someone in your line of work.. Michelle do you really have time for a dog?”
Turns out.. I did, I made it work. I loved her.
Between family and friends there was always someone to help me by housesitting or dog sitting, or just checking in that I didn’t leave a candle on to burn the house to the ground while she stared desperately barking out the front window for freedom not to die in a ball of flames.
She dealt with me pretty well I think and she’d win over almost everybody in time.
As most dogs are, she was pure love and energy, with raging excitement for every adventure to come.
Sitting under my desk on location “a set mascot”, she would travel with me whenever possible. I even had a boss ask me once if he could fly her out because he noticed how sad I was when the job was extended.
Everyone who ever came to my house knew the yell… “RUBY!” because she was mischief and town gossip all in one.
She cried wolf so much, that we completely disregarded her barking as the robbers broke into my sisters car parked out front.
I would rollerblade often and for long periods of time and she would always come with me, the sound of me strapping the final velcro around my ankle would do something to her, she would essentially lose her mind with anticipation of whats to come. Actually any velcro sound would trigger that in the years to come…
I loved her with giant hugs and giant puffs of air, I would nuzzle into her neck, face, back, anywhere I could and breath intentionally… It would be two years before I realized she did it back to me.
I have 15 years of love and stories, she would foster any animal I brought home and loved to make friends. She was the one who found and brought home the mangey, hairless, dying little black and white kitten who would grow up to be Mr. Fuzz. She was the light to the “everything is wrong with him how could you bring him home pit mix rescued bait dog” that is now known and loved as Tyrion.
Even as she aged, her mind and her appetite remained.. As Tyrion got better we would play… But Ruby could no longer run… Tyrion being the sweetest dog on the planet would run as fast as he could get the ball and bring it back to her. So that she could bring it the 4 feet back to me.
She was slow, but still sneaky, escaping for adventures and one last run not realizing how badly she was hurting herself. They never do.
Dogs are meant to show us love, she did this for me and so much more.
She was my constant but not my forever.
I’ll see her in everything I suppose. My little Negra.
My Ruby. (September 2002 — August 2017)
“Ruby, Ruby, Rubyyyy aaaa aaaa aaa ah ah” — Kaiser Chiefs
