It occurred to me today that I've never told Ruby's story. Ruby is the beautiful pug in the blogger header above. I hate to even say this but here goes. I always thought that pugs were ugly. It was a breed I knew nothing about and didn't care to. How wrong I was.
Around four years ago I was, at the time babysitting my granddaughter Sarah. At that time my son,Frank and his wife Amy, along with their sweet daughter Sarah lived on a little hill in the country. They had neighbors to the west that had several different animals. One of them was a pudgy little pug named Bernie Mac. Don't ask. Just Bernie Mac! I first noticed Bernie Mac one day when he came running up to my car as I pulled in the driveway. I was afraid he would run in front of my car and I might not see him. I do have a heart after all and didn't want to accidentally hit him. He started doing this every time I would come out there and after awhile I knew that he was watching for me.
On nice days I would take Sarah for walks all over the yard. On every walk Bernie Mac started to follow. As I would sit and watch Sarah playing outside, Bernie Mac was very good at giving the impression that he would like a pet. That's when it started. Pugs were starting to look a little differently to me.
It's really funny how life works sometimes. About a year later a new family moved into the house next to ours. An older retired man and his wife. Very sweet people. They had a little pug named Blossom. Now here's the funny part. Blossom just so happened to be Bernie Macs sister! She was such a sweet and friendly dog, always ready to greet us with pure happiness. I am now thinking that pugs are cute.
The nice couple ended up moving to a house about a block away from ours. We could literally wave to each other ,which we often did. Our family had a dog named Willie. A very large (75 lb.) mutt. Willie passed away shortly after the couple moved away. He was very old and his health was failing him rapidly. The day came when I had to physically carry him outside to relieve himself, which he couldn't. I carried him back into the house and called my son. We had to take him to the vet. My daughter-in-law met us there and with the three of us crying we had to say goodbye. Heartbroken is the only word that comes to mind. There was nothing more that could be done. He fell into what appeared to be a peaceful sleep, which eased my mind somewhat. I am crying as I write this. He was very loved.
I'm never going to have another dog. This was repeated several times over the next year. My husband, Jake, would casually mention different types of dogs he would like to have. And Kate , well Kate was 11 at the time and and would take any animal in that might happen to show up! As time went on the two of them were starting to wear me down. Little by little I was beginning to think again of having another dog. It would ultimately be my decision, with my husband home only every other weekend and Kate being the age that she was, I knew that most of the care and responsibility would fall onto me. If we were to get another dog, this dog would be mine. I would get to choose the dog and name it as well. Yet still with all of my conditions, I didn't feel ready yet.
Willie with Kate 2001
To be continued.....