My apologies for coming out of my writing lapse with a post that is a sad one.
Ruby, my beautiful, smart, loving angel dog, passed into spirit on Friday, November 16 after the rather sudden onset of paralysis with its accompanying desperation, and with a shutdown of her complete digestive tract. A week before this, she had intermittently worn a facial expression of "I need your attention" and I'd check and see if she needed anything. Then she had a brief playful streak and tossed around her tennis balls that had been ignored for months. In retrospect it seems to me that it was the rally that often happens with animals and with people who are on the verge of a serious happening. Well, when it was clear to me that we were in a scary zone, I called a mobile vet and made an appointment for the next day. The vet was very knowledgeable, thorough, gentle, and kind and was recommended to me by my own vet.
Ruby ... at about six weeks away from her 11th birthday ... was suffering and her face wore a worried, pleading expression. The vet and I helped her to lie down and the sedative helped her to relax ... and the pained look left her face. I sang to her all the while ... the song "Ruby ... you're like a dream..." from the movie Ruby Gentry ... and I petted her. I'm going to back-pedal slightly here to tell you that Ruby has always loved to hear music and my singing ... and would appear from wherever else she'd been in the house and lie down in front of my amplifier or the stereo. So on Thursday night I played a blues CD that a Knoxville harmonica player had given me a few years back ... it has several old blues tunes done by great blues players and singers; Ruby actually was smiling, as I played the whole album twice in a row.
So on Friday afternoon, my beautiful angel dog, who had earned her service vest and, who had, previous to when I met her at the shelter, won her battle with heartworm, and then gotten adopted at age 8, will ceremoniously be gone.
I think of her as a hero, as well as the most loving, intelligent, sweet dog I've ever known. I keep thinking I still see her, still hear her walking down the hall. Tomorrow, in keeping with my beliefs on waiting until the third day before doing cremation, her spirit should be flying free and, in truth, be with me in so many ways. This Thanksgiving I will feel thanks for the almost three years I was privileged to be mom to this awesome dog. And so, through my tears, I'll close with these words for her.
"God bless you, Ruby, Ruby Dog, Rubinski. Mommy loves you and misses you; misses your beautiful face, expressive eyes and pointed ears, your long luxurious tail, your very silky cuddly self, the way you love to shake hands ... and your interesting baritone/basso bark and occasional growl. Watch for me ... and when I come we'll be together again."