Ode to a Dog

Ohhh this one hurts.

Meditation dog.  Never sat down to meditate without my sidekick showing up.  Had her own sheepskin but she would usually crawl in to my lap midway through the set.

rubySadhana

A little too full-figured for a lap dog.  She didn’t care.

Silly dog – people would smile at the sight of her.  Some would ask to take her picture.  She made me laugh.  Every day.

Drove to Texas with Lili to get her at 8 weeks old.  She was the size of a baked potato.  A baked potato with huge ears.

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When she was happy she would roll on her back and make strange choking sounds.

Everyone thought she was a boy.  “Don’t they see the pink harness?” I would ask myself out loud.

rubyA

She loved me.  My god the devotion.  She would whine outside the bathroom door for me.  When I traveled she would go on hunger strikes and suffer bouts of depression.

RubyWindow

Had to stand on my lap in the driver’s side looking out the window on car rides.

Flew on the airplane like a champ.  My “emotional support” dog.  She would fall asleep as soon as the plane took off.  Lying across my lap, occasionally farting.  Nobody seemed to care.

Her breath was terrible.  All her life.

She was unafraid.  She would challenge the largest deer.  Shrilly barking at the nonplused herd.  I thought she would get brained one day by a sharp cloven hoof.

She was Mr. Magoo blind.  Unaware one time that a large red fox was stalking her in our backyard.  I had to run out in my socks and scare it away.  Then she barked like a mother fucker.

Dare I say it, she could strike quite the elegant pose in her old(er) age.

ElegantRu

I burn with shame to say that I don’t remember the last walk I took her on.  I’ve been pretty busy the past several days.  And it’s been snowing.  Not her favorite weather condition.

RubyCold

The last two nights of her life she slept uncharacteristically close to me, up by my pillow.  It was cold outside, I didn’t mind.  Sweet comforting presence of her, snuffling and snorting.

Her last day, she ate a good breakfast – rotisserie chicken and kibble.  She took a nap with me on the couch.  I’m wracking my brain to think of what else she did.  Barked at a puppy – as was her way.  Not very friendly to other dogs, sorry to say.  She skipped dinner – that should have been a huge red flag.  She enjoyed her meals.

Last night, I came downstairs to turn off the lights.  In hindsight, I do think it was strange that she hadn’t already made her way up to my bedroom.  I saw her sleeping on the rug in the TV room.  I called her name and she didn’t wake up.  Not strange though as she’s become hard of hearing lately.  I stretched my hand out.  She was cold.

Linda called her “soulful” and that felt too deep to me at first.  I found her subtlety dismaying.  Never a licker or a tail wagger (she didn’t really have one) her face was a mystery.  Poker face extraordinaire.

She was my heart companion.  For ten years Ruby has been by my side.  When I cried, she would charge her way to my side.  Concerned.  Present.  A reassuring weight.  Her favorite place was on me or right beside me.  Always.  So “soulful” it is.  I can see that now.

I am chagrined to note that in all my “death” experiences of being and sitting with people and animals that are dying, I was a basket case when it came to this.  I was afraid to touch Ruby and I felt totally freaked out, like I wanted to run or throw up or both, simultaneously.

Grateful to my kids for their compassion and kindness last night, to my sweet friend who stayed up until 1am with me on the phone and to my sister Linda who came over this morning and did what I couldn’t.  She helped me get Ruby out of the cardboard box in the garage, set up an altar with sweet flowers, candles, oils and incense.  And chanted Akals to my soulful heart companion, Ruby.  Then she helped me wrap her in the same sheet we had wrapped her beloved mastiff, Juno, in just a few weeks ago and bundled me in her car, while I held Ruby in my arms, kissing her sweet nose, and drove me to the vet, where I left her to be cremated.

No way to fill a hole like this one.

RIP Ruby.  You are missed.  You are loved.

August 9, 2006 – April 28, 2016

About Roxanna Smith

Exploring the world of living, loving and grieving with an open heart.
This entry was posted in Change, Death and Dying, Friendship, grief, Love, Meditation and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Ode to a Dog

  1. Lee says:

    Oh, sweet Roxanna, I am so sorry. She was everything, wasn’t she? My heart is with you. I wish I was there to give you hugs and love.

    I love you, Lee

  2. Hello Roxanna: So sorry for your loss. Like you, we have also set up altars at time of our pets’ passing, and then permanent tributes later on. Here is my favourite poem on losing a pet, by Robinson Jeffers, who lived in Carmel, back in the 1930’s. The poem is written from the point of view of the dog who has passed away, and is addressed to the beloved owner. I find the last stanza especially powerful it its deep emotional truth.
    All blessings to you, and to Ruby.

    The House Dog’s Grave
    By Robinson Jeffers
    I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now
    Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
    Except in a kind of dream; and you,
    If you dream a moment,
    You see me there.

    So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
    Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
    And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
    The marks of my drinking-pan.
    I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
    On the warm stone,
    Nor at the foot of your bed; no,
    All the nights through I lie alone.
    But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
    Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
    And where you sit to read—
    And I fear often grieving for me—
    Every night your lamplight lies on my place.
    You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
    To think of you ever dying.
    A little dog would get tired, living so long.
    I hope that when you are lying
    Under the ground like me your lives will appear
    As good and joyful as mine. No, dears, that’s too much hope:
    You are not so well cared for as I have been.
    And never have known the passionate undivided
    Fidelities that I knew.
    Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided…
    But to me you were true.

    You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
    I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
    To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
    I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

    Return to: Animal Rights Poetry

  3. Becca Haydon says:

    Roxanna, what a beautiful tribute to such a gem of a dog. She packed a LOT of character into that small(ish) frame. My heart goes out to you!

  4. Patti says:

    Love and loss. ❤️💔 Akals for Ruby.

  5. Patti says:

    Akals for Ruby. Loss…lightness…love. 💔💗

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