As I sit here typing, it’s a cold Monday morning in October. Seven a.m. Nineteen degrees out. First bit of light coming into the sky. We’ve yet to light the first fire of the season, so I’m bundled up on the couch and I have a seven-month old miniature Australian Shepherd pawing at me for attention and play time. She finds the laptop a stupid distraction that is diverting my attention from where it rightly belongs.
This is Ruby. And anyone who knows us in real life or follows me on social knows all about her. If you thought I was a little overboard with Lucy and Sylvie, well then. Having a puppy turned me into one of those people who, upon having a child, act like that child is the first to breathe the earth’s air and that the entire world must be fascinated with it. Except with a puppy.
We didn’t mean to get a puppy this year. After losing Sylvie in March of last year and Lucy right before Christmas, we were just too heartbroken. And emotionally exhausted from a year’s worth of taking care of sick dogs. In fact, the last post I wrote for this here blog site was in January of this year, marking the anniversary of the trip to the vet in 2021 that was the beginning of Sylvie’s end.
Not having dogs also meant we might be able to hop in the car on a whim and travel the state we’ve been living in now for four years.
What little thought we’d given to getting another dog was basically, “Maybe next year. Maybe a rescue. Maybe something Sylvie’s size. Definitely something that won’t shed.”
Now I’m covered in the hair of a 32-pound dog that is very much still in puppy stages.
How did THAT happen?
It’s not a happy story. I’ll be upfront about that. We love this dog to death already and it’s hard to imagine life without her. But how we got her is the sort of story that should be preceded with the phrase “trigger warning.”
Michele Scott was a local woman who bred mini Aussies. She also worked at the local Safeway and cleaned houses. We were one of her clients. Every other week, Michele would show up and she and I would shoot the shit about dogs or drinking or whatever. Her two dogs went missing for about two weeks once and not surprisingly she was extremely distraught. But she found them one day roaming the countryside as if they were on a grand vacation. Her first visit back after Lucy had passed, she just knew upon walking in. I think dog people are keyed into that sort of thing.
And then in February of this year, I received a text from our mutual friend Jeannie asking if I’d seen Michele. It was a Monday. Valentine’s Day, in fact. Michele hadn’t been heard from since Thursday morning. She’d left our house on Wednesday afternoon. In real life, a story with that sort of beginning rarely has a happy ending. And this one didn’t either. It wasn’t long before Michele’s ex-boyfriend, a piece of shit with a long record and a restraining order, was found driving her car. He claimed she’d left for a last-minute vacation. That’s not what happened at all. He killed her and dumped her body in a ravine.
To this day, I’m not really sure how to process what happened. Michele and I were not close. But she was a person I knew who was taken out of the world too soon by an act of violence committed by the worst of us, the sort of person who should have been in jail years ago. I could go on, but it will just turn into a rant or make her story about me.
Like I said, Michele bred mini Aussies. And quite a few of the people at her memorial apparently met her through the dog community. At the time of her death, Michele’s dog was pregnant. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Why would I?
How it happened
In March of this year I received another text from Jeannie saying that Michele’s dog Como had had a litter of ten puppies.
That’s nice, I thought. How cute. And then didn’t give it another thought.
In April, I was sitting alone at home while Cara was in Austin on a business trip. I received another text from Jeannie.
“Ken we have puppies from Michele’s dog that will be ready for homes on the first of May. We wanted to offer them to people that knew her first and I thought you guys might be interested. … We have 5 puppies still available. 2 Blk Tri Males, 1 Blue Merle Female, and 2 Blue Merle Males.”
I didn’t know what any of those things meant. We were not in the market for a dog. And Cara, I figured, was going to want some sort of poodle mix. But I have a hard time just telling people no.
My response: “Let me talk it over with Cara. Do you have a pic of the female?”
Reader. She did have a picture.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how this story ends. Cara returned from Austin. We sat at the dinner table like actual adults and had a ridiculous conversation about pros and cons and the fact that I’d be doing the heavy lifting. And came to the conclusion of “I don’t know. Maybe we can go see her.” We were barely even fooling ourselves at this point. I even said, “If we go see this dog, we’re going to get this dog.”
Guess what happened. The only surprise is we didn’t leave with two dogs.
Ruby came home with us on May 8. It has been, as they say, a trip. I’ve never had the responsibility of taking care of a puppy. We had no experience with this breed.
The good news is she’s extremely smart and eager to please. We’ve had a few friends over who have Aussies and they’ve all remarked on how mellow she is for the breed. To be clear, she’s mellow for the breed, not necessarily mellow. That said, she gets along great with other dogs, even while on leash. As much as I loved Lucy and Sylvie, those are not things that could have been said of them. They were leash aggressive and hated bikes, cars, runners, balloons, and basically anything that moved.
In fact, she likes other dogs so much, we’ve toyed with the idea of a second one. We’ve left her at Jeannie’s house a couple of times. Jeannie has a houseful of dogs, including the one other female from Ruby’s litter, which she named Michele. Ruby and Michele love each other.
The thing is, I don’t know if I can deal with the puppy stage again. Or getting a shelter dog that turns out to be a complete antisocial asshole.
It’s been downright easy with Ruby. We’ve even been able to take her to a bar and just sit outside for hours without her acting the fool.
Though she does like to act the fool.
So far, her only issue is she’s not great in the car. It’s hard to tell whether it’s stress, motion sickness or both. She threw up quite a bit at first. That’s mostly stopped but there’s always a chance. It doesn’t help that we live in the mountains with tons of curvy roads. We’ve got the small matter of a drive to Louisiana coming up, so we’ll see how that goes. Hopefully with some practice she’ll get over it and we can take her on road trips.
But yeah. We got a dog. I finally wrote a blog post about it. I’d get into all the emotions involved along the way, but dog people know instinctually, the rest will never understand. And besides, she wants to go for a walk.