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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Pets / Animal Friends
- Published: 08/06/2015
Ruby
Born 1941, M, from Whitby, United KingdomRuby
It had been the worst winter for decades. A complete blanket of snow had covered everything now for almost two months. Hungry pheasants had taken to coming into the village gardens without fear to look for berries or anything they could eat. Starving rabbits also roamed well away from the snow blanket as all low level grazing had long gone. They had now resorted to chewing the bark off any trees in desperation. This made their urine a lurid bright brown and patches stained the snow wherever they roamed. Rabbit bodies were appearing scattered in places not normally rabbit territory.
Ruby was a ‘sort of’ border collie and had been my ultra-faithful companion for seventeen years. She now had a couple of the dreaded lumps underneath and waddled rather than run or walk. We had been to see the vet and her opinion was that as long as she showed no signs of distress we should carry on. Most of the days now she slept but feeding time always woke her and she enjoyed her food as ever. She had always been an outdoor dog so I built her a small dog size igloo in the garden so she could eat out and have a good sniff around the snow cleared areas.
We had managed to get out for brief walks on the clear parts of the moor but the distance had rapidly declined now.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that a good dog can help enormously to get people through difficult times. Their unfailing trust in your ability means that you must respond to them no matter how grim you might feel. In that response comes a mighty healing refund.
Then you have to take them for exercise daily. Watching them enjoy the freedom reminds you what freedom is.
I often wonder why evolution did not generate pets which could happily live as long as us poor mortals. How nice to have your buddies complete the full walk with you.
The snow had returned with a vengeance and a howling wind. Snow was beginning to move across the fields and build into drifts across open gateways.
Ruby’s back legs became weaker and she could only stand if I lifted her up. A short time later she failed to balance. I looked into the dark eyes and saw no signs of distress. Then she became incontinent and the same eyes were different. They knew.
I made the call to the vet. The one I had long dreaded. She was sympathetic and said bring the car in the yard to the back door after surgery hours.
The roads were well covered with snow and crossed in places by quite deep drifts that I had to charge through.
When we eventually arrived the vet and I carried Ruby onto the inspection table. The vet prepared a tranquiliser followed by the injection that would stop her heart beating. I stroked her as gently as I could and looked again into those all-knowing eyes. These eyes I had loved more than many, many human eyes.
The first injection. I spoke her name softly.
“It’s OK Ruby. You have a good sleep and I’ll see you when you wake up.”
The second injection. There was no real visible change in her eye colouring but I could tell the life had faded away.
“Has she gone?”
These were the last words I could manage for a long while as I fought to regain composure.
“Yes, Ruby has gone.”
As I walked back to the car the tear duct dam wall suddenly broke and a torrent of tears poured down my face. I did not sob or shake my head but the salty stream flowed unashamedly and unstoppably.
It took me a while to become brave enough to drive the car and even when I did I stopped in the street as I still could not see clearly.
There was a tap at the window, a secretary from work out shopping.
“Hello, Ossie- alright?”
I wound down the window and saw by the change in her face that I must have looked pretty awful.
“I’m sorry I’ve just had to leave my dog at the vet’s.”
“So sorry.”
That was all she could manage. I swabbed my wet face with a wet hanky and put the car in gear.
I never remembered any snow problems on the way home although I am sure there must have been many.
I am not overtly religious but for some reason something Jesus apparently said came into mind.
“Take a little wine for thine often infirmities.”
Seemed like a good idea to me. Ruby must have sent it down.
I parked and walked down the path. My instinct seemed to want to smash the little igloo but Ruby was a peaceful dog and would not have approved so I smoothed it down with my hands. Then I took a little wine as instructed.
All the Ruby possessions, like dog basket, food, worming tablets, brush and comb etc were gathered and carefully put in a bag for the bin. Couldn’t face it in the morning. Then I took a little wine.
Where she slept in the kitchen was now an empty soul-less place.
I took a little more wine.
“Goodbye for now Ruby!”
Ruby(Ossie Durrans)
Ruby
It had been the worst winter for decades. A complete blanket of snow had covered everything now for almost two months. Hungry pheasants had taken to coming into the village gardens without fear to look for berries or anything they could eat. Starving rabbits also roamed well away from the snow blanket as all low level grazing had long gone. They had now resorted to chewing the bark off any trees in desperation. This made their urine a lurid bright brown and patches stained the snow wherever they roamed. Rabbit bodies were appearing scattered in places not normally rabbit territory.
Ruby was a ‘sort of’ border collie and had been my ultra-faithful companion for seventeen years. She now had a couple of the dreaded lumps underneath and waddled rather than run or walk. We had been to see the vet and her opinion was that as long as she showed no signs of distress we should carry on. Most of the days now she slept but feeding time always woke her and she enjoyed her food as ever. She had always been an outdoor dog so I built her a small dog size igloo in the garden so she could eat out and have a good sniff around the snow cleared areas.
We had managed to get out for brief walks on the clear parts of the moor but the distance had rapidly declined now.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that a good dog can help enormously to get people through difficult times. Their unfailing trust in your ability means that you must respond to them no matter how grim you might feel. In that response comes a mighty healing refund.
Then you have to take them for exercise daily. Watching them enjoy the freedom reminds you what freedom is.
I often wonder why evolution did not generate pets which could happily live as long as us poor mortals. How nice to have your buddies complete the full walk with you.
The snow had returned with a vengeance and a howling wind. Snow was beginning to move across the fields and build into drifts across open gateways.
Ruby’s back legs became weaker and she could only stand if I lifted her up. A short time later she failed to balance. I looked into the dark eyes and saw no signs of distress. Then she became incontinent and the same eyes were different. They knew.
I made the call to the vet. The one I had long dreaded. She was sympathetic and said bring the car in the yard to the back door after surgery hours.
The roads were well covered with snow and crossed in places by quite deep drifts that I had to charge through.
When we eventually arrived the vet and I carried Ruby onto the inspection table. The vet prepared a tranquiliser followed by the injection that would stop her heart beating. I stroked her as gently as I could and looked again into those all-knowing eyes. These eyes I had loved more than many, many human eyes.
The first injection. I spoke her name softly.
“It’s OK Ruby. You have a good sleep and I’ll see you when you wake up.”
The second injection. There was no real visible change in her eye colouring but I could tell the life had faded away.
“Has she gone?”
These were the last words I could manage for a long while as I fought to regain composure.
“Yes, Ruby has gone.”
As I walked back to the car the tear duct dam wall suddenly broke and a torrent of tears poured down my face. I did not sob or shake my head but the salty stream flowed unashamedly and unstoppably.
It took me a while to become brave enough to drive the car and even when I did I stopped in the street as I still could not see clearly.
There was a tap at the window, a secretary from work out shopping.
“Hello, Ossie- alright?”
I wound down the window and saw by the change in her face that I must have looked pretty awful.
“I’m sorry I’ve just had to leave my dog at the vet’s.”
“So sorry.”
That was all she could manage. I swabbed my wet face with a wet hanky and put the car in gear.
I never remembered any snow problems on the way home although I am sure there must have been many.
I am not overtly religious but for some reason something Jesus apparently said came into mind.
“Take a little wine for thine often infirmities.”
Seemed like a good idea to me. Ruby must have sent it down.
I parked and walked down the path. My instinct seemed to want to smash the little igloo but Ruby was a peaceful dog and would not have approved so I smoothed it down with my hands. Then I took a little wine as instructed.
All the Ruby possessions, like dog basket, food, worming tablets, brush and comb etc were gathered and carefully put in a bag for the bin. Couldn’t face it in the morning. Then I took a little wine.
Where she slept in the kitchen was now an empty soul-less place.
I took a little more wine.
“Goodbye for now Ruby!”
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