It’s a Girl! — Introducing Princess Bella Penelope

We’ve been looking for that special someone for Ruby for quite awhile now. Last weekend, we visited a couple of shelters. And we found the most beautiful girl doggie I’ve ever seen. So we named her Bella Penelope and she came home with us on Saturday.

Bella (Italian for “beautiful”) is a purebred Redbone Coonhound. She came with papers and everything. She comes from a long line of UKC champions. She’s the real deal! Apparently her first human family had some financial and other issues and had to give her up to the shelter. I think she was meant to be with us all along. She’ll be two in March, the perfect age. Not a puppy, but still very young.

We still think Ruby is part Redbone Coonhound, and they certainly have some similarities. But Bella is just beyond striking to look at. She’s a really shiny chocolate color, and her soft fur feels like crushed velvet. It’s hard to get anything done around here because I just want to pet her all day.

They are so cute together. They love to play, which has taken us some getting used to. Suddenly, it’s girl-on-girl wrestle mania all the time around here. They bear hug, paw at each other and mouth each other constantly (when we let them). Ruby’s favorite new snack is a Bella Neck Sandwich. Ruby also finds Bella’s ears irresistible (we do too, only we pet them, we don’t chomp on them). Bella holds her own, and we’re not sure who’s going to turn out to be the dominant one, but it’s looking like Ruby, which is a surprise. Ruby’s always been super submissive around other dogs. Bella has already really increased her confidence.

(View video of last night’s after dinner brawl, and please excuse the mess as we are still knee deep in The Tile Project.)

We’ve been having so much fun with them the last few days. I think our new doggie family is now complete … for today anyway.

Ruby and the Champ

Ruby is certainly making life interesting! When we went home for Christmas, everyone asked about her. I bragged about what a good dog she is, how easy she is, how adorable. These things are true. But she also has a screw loose, or two, or ten.

My mom picked her up from the doggie daycare  center on Christmas Eve, since we were coming home too late that night. When they got to the house, Ruby managed to escape (her collar had been loosened at the kennel, we later discovered). Now, while Ruby is an absolute doll around the house, when she gets outside, that loose screw becomes apparent. Suddenly, the world at large is so enticing she forgets about everything else. And she is even more spooked by people than usual.

So she disappeared into the forest again. We got home after dark that night and found no trace of her. Once again, we had a lonely night as our crazy pup spent hers in the woods.

The Hunt for the Red Ruby commenced early Christmas day and ultimately involved the entire family (dad and me excluded). Finally, Michael found her right across the street, hanging out with our neighbor’s dog, Champ. Michael and Anna tried for quite some time to coax her back, but she was not interested. It appeared Ruby had fallen in love, run away from home, and was determined to start her new life with Champ at any cost.

Ruby and Champ spent a romantic Christmas day together, which eventually led to another overnight stay. Even though our house is less than 100 yards away, it was like she had forgotten she ever lived here. She was a young pup in love.

The next morning, Michael was bound and determined to get her back. We brought Champ over to our house as bait. That was unsuccessful. So he took Champ on a walk where we knew Ruby was hiding out. Sure enough, as soon as she saw her new boyfriend, she came running right up. Until she saw Michael. Then she ran away again. (She has this weird thing with him sometimes when he has tennis shoes on, blame it on loose screw #3.)

Finally, he saw her a third time. This time, instead of approaching, he called her name, turned around, and laid down on his back. Champ laid down with him.  And it worked. Ruby eventually ran over, and laid down next to Michael with her head on his legs. Apparently, she just needed to be reassured it was a safe environment, and nothing says submission to a dog more than laying on your back.

So Ruby came home with Michael. When she got to the backyard she came running in like, oh, I live here! Then she saw me and came running over and jumping all over me. I hadn’t been able to go on any of the hunts because my back was screwed up from our trip.

We let Champ hang out with us for a few hours since his family wasn’t home. We came to the conclusion that Ruby really needed a doggie buddy. She just has this crazy attraction to other dogs, male or female. We dreamt up ways we could ask our neighbor if he would just let us have Champ. Poor guy is chained up outside all day which makes us so sad. But we couldn’t decide an appropriate way to bring that up. We’d find someone else.

And we did.

Notes on a Hound Dog

Thought it was high time to give you an update on Ruby. She’s already got her holiday shopping done, and presents wrapped. Christmas cards are in the mail, and she’s now planning a big trip to the doggie day-care center while mom and dad go to California for a couple of weeks. She had a wonderful time last time we left her there. She almost brought home a new friend! I tell you, Ruby is far more enthused about other dogs than she is people. Except for us, of course.

Which has proven to be somewhat of a problem.

Shortly after we adopted Ruby, she developed some severe separation anxiety, which would manifest itself when we left her alone in the form of explosive diarrhea and uncontrollable urination. And lots of howling. The one time we left her in our master bathroom, she tried everything she could to escape, and made quite a mess in the process.

Suffice it to say we’ve learned a lot about separation anxiety, which is pretty common in rescued dogs. It’s very different than destruction out of boredom (chewing furniture, etc). Dogs with this condition become so fearful when left alone that they literally freak out, lose control of their bowel functions, and basically regress to puppy-like behavior (whining for their moms, etc).

Ruby didn’t start out this way, but seemed to develop it after bonding to us. Since we work at home, we are often with her 24/7. I think she got used to this as a way of life, and then one day when we left, boom – her brain exploded. And then her butt exploded.

So we’ve been working on this with her ever since. We practice leaving her alone for longer and longer bits of time. Right now, since the weather is a good temp, we take her with us in the car when we leave. She doesn’t mind being left in there.

So other than this little issue (which we’re in family therapy for), life with Ruby has been wonderful. She is a very loving little doggie, sweet and funny. She often spends the work day like this, which is so cute! (It’s warm under there!)

She is still extremely shy with other people, but LOVES other doggies. So she may be getting a new companion here pretty soon. We think she would do well with a confident brother or sister by her side. Anybody know a good doggie who needs a home, let us know!

In the meantime, we’ll keep dressing her up, and we’ll work on her ability to smile for the camera. Could use a little improvement.

Continued Adventures of Miss Ruby (“Roo”)

Well, it’s been an absolute joy to have Ruby living here. No escape attempts or treks through the forest. In fact, she’s changed tremendously since that first week. Where she was uninterested in toys or playing for the first few days, she’s now brightened right up and sometimes gives us quite a hilarious show. She seems very happy to be here and has had quite a fun time.

Two weekends ago, she went to the park in Bastrop and took a quick dip in the Colorado river, then went to Home Depot for the first time — so exciting, she peed her pants, oops!

This past weekend, she took a road trip with us down to San Antonio to visit Jess & Paul. Jess met her last week but it was Paul’s first time. Ruby warmed up quite a bit but is still somewhat nervous and subdued around new people.

A completely different doggie at the dog park, however. She got to go Saturday and Sunday and boy, she couldn’t get enough. Even though she’s tremendously submissive around other doggies, she absolutely loves them and would do anything to get them to play with her.

It was so fun to watch her interact with the rest of the dogs. She introduced herself to every single one at the park. She had so much fun on Saturday, we brought her back again on Sunday. Paul came along and proved to be quite the attraction for other dogs (especially small ones). Must be his odor special scent.

We had a great time in San Antonio. We got to see both of their new work places. Jess is working in an Alfred Angelo bridal salon (and loving it). She was dying to “fit” me in some bridal gowns. Wow. These gowns are unbelievable! I wish I was getting married again!

More pics from the weekend at the gallery.

A Clean Bill of Health

Ruby passed her first vet visit with flying colors this morning. The staff adored her and she did great! The vet said she appears quite healthy. She even got her nails clipped with no problem at all. She was pretty anxious being at the new place, but all in all, we were very proud.

She found it all terribly exhausting. When we got home, she retreated straight away to her personal executive leather sofa and hasn’t budged since!

The Misadventures of Miss Ruby (“Roo”) Matthew

It started out innocently enough. After catching Ruby in the forest early Tuesday morning (see the end of this story), bathing her, and calming her down, we spent a fairly uneventful day around the house. We keep her tethered to us so as to avoid any surprises, to teach her the rules, and to slowly allow her controlled access around the house.

Before dinner, we decided she needed another long walk. Better yet, we thought, she needs a good run. Burn some serious energy. She seems like the type of dog who would love to run. Unfortunately, her adopted parents are not, I repeat, NOT runners. Michael was a track star in high school, but well, that was 40 pounds ago. These days, we walk.

So we thought about trying a bike ride. Nope, she’s way too timid to ride a bike. I know, Roller Blades! Yes, we still have a pair from the late 90’s. Michael donned his blades of glory, and we spent some time in the driveway practicing some moves. Ruby was definitely not comfortable (as you can tell from her very tucked tail in the pic), but not freaking out. She just needed to move. So away they went. She started jogging comfortably right away. Awesome! I went back inside to make dinner.

Ruby goes rollerblading

About 20 minutes later, as I walked out back to tend to the bbq, I saw a strawberry blond dog racing across the back property, towing her own leash, but no Michael. Great! I dropped what I was doing, grabbed some treats and took off after her. In my flip flops. And shorts. In the overgrown jungle.

Long, sad story later, we couldn’t find her. We looked until the sun went down, roaming all over the four lots that will eventually connect my sisters with us. It is so thick and dense out there, you lose sight of the street, house, and other markers almost instantly. No sign of Ruby. Lots of deer, squirrels and spiders though. Michael made several laps around the neighborhood. Once it got dark, he went out again with a flashlight. No sign.

We finally resigned ourselves to the fact that there was nothing else we could do that night. She could be anywhere. She was a stray, maybe for her entire young life. So we knew she could survive the night just fine, so long as her leash didn’t tangle her up or she didn’t encounter one of our many ferocious wild hogs that have been roaming the neighborhood.

But we were sick with worry, just hoping someone would find her, but knowing she was very good at hiding out and not entirely comfortable with people.

Michael and Ruby had had a wonderful rollerblading session, and at the end, just a few yards from the house, Michael had the poop bag in one hand, Ruby’s leash in the other, then a neighbor’s mower got just a bit too close (like 20 yards away), and off she went, going through his legs. Michael took a tumble and lost her. Deja vu. And yes, we live in the country. Just about everyone has a ride-on mower or tractor, and they love to use them.

You can imagine what a rough night it was for us. Here we were again with a house full of dog stuff, and no dog. It was heartbreaking. I didn’t sleep much, but when I did, I kept dreaming she came back. I even got up to check the back door a few times in the middle of the night, hoping she would be there. No Ruby.

The next morning, I got up, put on some long pants and tennis shoes, and took off back into the forest. After about 10 minutes, I saw her dart by in the distance, still trailing her leash. YES!! Thank goodness for her bright red apparel or she’d be nearly impossible to see. I tracked her for about 15 minutes, chasing her full-speed, then trying to get close when she’d stop to rest. She finally settled down in a thicket and I called Michael to help me trap her. She was so frightened.

He came out and we kept our phones on speaker while trying to locate each other. Finally, he found us and from opposite sides we closed in on Ruby. Off she went. Full speed chase through the forest. If we aren’t runners, we certainly aren’t sprinters, so you can imagine the scene. Dead sprinting, crouching, leaping over fallen trees, crashing through thick branches and brush. Worst of all was taking down multiple spider webs … with my face … spiders included.

We finally cornered her once more at the neighbor’s fence line. Moving in for the capture, she got spooked again and took off. Imagine trying to catch a wild deer in the woods. That’s what this was like. It seemed impossible.

This time, we lost sight of her. We spent the next 45 minutes trying to find her again until finally, Michael barely caught a glimpse of her in a dense thicket, laying down low and apparently sleeping. She was worn out. We calmed ourselves and took about 10 minutes to gradually inch closer to her. Finally, treats in hands, we got her.

Back to the house, back to the bath, and once more, we were a family. A thoroughly exhausted one.

So begins the misadventures of the Ruby Cube.

Perspective

Good News: Ruby’s been laying on her bed by my desk all day, a perfect little angel.

Bad News: She has some major gas.

“Ruby” Tuesday

Introducing Miss Ruby Cube “Little Ann” Matthew

Michael and I adopted Ruby from our local shelter yesterday. We’ve been debating for weeks on whether or not we’re ready for a new doggie, and Sunday we just felt like we had to go and at least look. We visited with lots of nice doggies at the animal center. We were looking for a little boy, and had just about decided on a black lab mix named Boo. But I happened to catch a glimpse of Ruby at the back of her kennel and we coaxed her out for a walk. She won us over right away. It wasn’t until later that we realized how much she physically resembles Bear, even though they’re different breeds. We weren’t looking for any one in particular. We visited the SPCA on the way home, but didn’t find anyone else who was right for us. After sleeping on it Sunday night, we went back Monday and picked up our new little girl.

She’s a Redbone Coonhound mix (I think there’s got to be some Golden in there somewhere; her resemblance to Bear is uncanny at times). She’s approximately 9 months old and around 42 pounds. (Probably will top out around 60 pounds). She was found as a stray, living in a field somewhere.

One of my favorite books as an adolescent was “Where the Red Fern Grows” and I’m guessing many of you adored it as much as I did. I recall being so moved by the story, and bawling my eyes out at the end and thinking it was so peculiar that a book could make me feel that way. The dogs in that book are Redbone Coonhounds. The smaller female was called “Little Ann”, thus Ruby’s nickname.

So prepare yourselves for lots of new doggie tales. It’s going to be quite a process to get her accustomed to her new life. She’s extremely timid and uncertain about her surroundings, very easily scared. She’s already showing some separation anxiety when we leave the room. But she’s generally well-behaved, loves her food and eats softly out of our hands. She slept quietly in her crate outside our bedroom door last night. She’s pretty good on the leash already, and poops and pees outside. Well, pees in the backyard, but holds her poop ’til we take a walk. (Which is fine in theory, unless she lets it go in the middle of the road as was the case last night. And it wasn’t pretty.)

This morning, she pooped at the park up the road, and as I bent down to bag it up, she got spooked by a guy nearby on a mower, and took off. I wasn’t holding the leash tight enough! I can’t believe I let her loose on the first day! To our surprise and relief, she ran right back to our house. But she went behind the pool fencing and toward the back of our property, and wouldn’t come back. She was quite happy to be exploring new territory and scents (she’s a hound, you know). I finally got within 20 feet of her, knelt down with some treats in my hands, and she came right up to me! Ah, motivated by food. We’re familiar with that trait.

This morning’s shenanigans meant we had to give her a bath, as she went right through some poison oak. We were warned by the shelter that she HATES baths (in all caps). But we put her in the pool bath shower with Michael and she did just fine. Except for howling when I left the scene.

So it’s going to be tricky, building up her confidence. If we were still Californians, we’d probably take her to therapy.

More updates and photos coming soon.

About Bear

Before we came to California, Michael sent an email to some close family and friends to explain the situation with Bear, and that we’d rather not have to talk about it. We were trying to avoid the inevitable cheerful questions of “How’s Bear?” “Who’s watching Bear this week?”

So we didn’t have to talk about it, except to let one or two people know when appropriate. Otherwise, people were so sweet to just not bring him up, but occasionally I’d notice an extra compassionate smile or hand squeeze. I know some people are concerned with how we’re handling the whole thing, so I thought I’d address it.

We’re doing ok. And we’re ok to talk about it now. It gets easier each day, at least it did before we left, and certainly while we were away and there was plenty to distract us. But it was really tough coming home to the empty house. I think about him all the time, find myself looking for him, thinking I hear him, wondering what he’s doing – is he in the office with Michael? Was that him moving at the foot of the bed? No, just Michael rearranging his feet.

So needless to say, we miss him terribly. The one thing that got us through those first few days after he was gone was the idea that we’d get another doggie. The thought of rescuing a dog from the shelter and giving him a wonderful home was very uplifting. But I’m not sure that we can even do that yet, not wanting to put ourselves in the position of having to go through this again in the future. But we’ll see, as soon as the travels die down this year, it’s very likely we’ll find ourselves a new companion.

Anyway, thanks for your well-wishes and prayers.

An Angel Named Bear

Four and a half years ago, a little blonde doggie crawled up into Michael’s lap and into our hearts forever. Bear belonged to my friend Jenee, and each time we visited her house, Michael would tease her by saying, “Hey, Bear could just come live with us, if you ever wanted.” We had been looking for a companion for Sammie, and we were madly in love with my friend’s dog.

One day, she called and asked if we really wanted to take him. An extremely busy mom, she felt like we could give Bear a good home, and our undivided love and affection. Jenee’s husband is a firefighter, and their other dog, Captain, was in the running for search and rescue training. If he was to do this, he had to be an only dog at home. We said yes.

Jenee brought Bear over shortly after that. Sammie didn’t care much about him, but we were smitten. Michael sat in our arm chair later that night, and Bear came over for a petting. Michael asked if he wanted to be part of our family. Bear put his paw up on Michael’s leg, then crawled right into his lap. That was it.

Truth be told though, I began to have a few doubts over the next few days as we adjusted to having him in our home. I had recently been forced quit work because of my back, and the thought of caring for two big dogs in our tiny Rocklin home seemed almost unreasonable. I actually called Jenee and told her I wasn’t sure about the whole thing. She assured me that even though she was absolutely broken-hearted, she knew it was the right thing for Bear. I learned about sacrificial love then and there.

If you know us at all, you know Bear became the light of our lives. He had the most amazing personality. A completely perfect dog in every way. Sammie eventually grew to love him as we did. Bear was joyful, happy and full of life. To watch him run and play brought us immense pleasure and warmed our hearts. He was silly and sweet, and loved to be close to us. He was a 70 pound lap dog, who adored his people.

Last year, Bear lost his sister. We had to make the gut-wrenching decision to give Sammie up to a rescue organization. We thought Bear might really suffer, but he just grew even closer to his people. He got to go everywhere with us this last year. He slept in our bed every night. We took him hiking and swimming as much as possible. He was loving life. Not being able to have children yet for a variety of reasons, he was our baby.

Shortly after we moved into our new house, Bear developed a limp. Assuming he had injured his shoulder from his constant leaps off of the back deck, we kept him quiet and gave him time to heal. The limping went away, and many days he seemed back to his old self. But the pain kept returning, and soon he was not enjoying any of his regular doggie activities anymore. We stopped taking him on walks, since he would become slightly disoriented, and begin to limp just a few hundred feet into it. He needs more time to heal, we thought. We took him to the vet, who let us know this breed is very prone to arthritis, and it was possible he had some joint problems. We started him on glucosamine/msm supplements and adult dog food, and gave him more time, assuming he’d be back to it eventually.

At his next check-up (he goes every three months for his kidney disease), a new vet checked out his shoulder. She seemed concerned with some “bony changes” and suggested we x-ray him. He may need arthroscopic surgery, or other treatment. Ok. We can handle that. Bear has had surgery before. He’s only seven, and surely has many more years. That was last Saturday.

We scheduled an x-ray for Wednesday. By Tuesday, his limp was the worst we’ve ever seen, and he was miserable. We dropped him off early Wednesday morning, and waited all day for the results. By two o’clock they hadn’t called, and I began to worry. They are busy, I thought. I called the office, and they said the vet would call us back within the half hour. Can I come and pick up Bear? I asked. We missed him terribly around the house. You should wait until she calls, they said.

She called a half an hour later. She was speaking very slowly and calmly. She eventually gave me his diagnosis: osteosarcoma. Bear has bone cancer. The “changes” she was concerned about turned out to be an aggressive tumor that was slowly eating away the healthy bone in his arm. The only treatment for the pain is amputation.

While on the phone, I was completely numb. My mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. Ok, he has cancer. He needs treatment. It’s more serious than we thought. Amputation. What an ugly word. We can do this. We need to go pick up our baby right now.

Michael came into the room while I was on the phone. When I hung up, I looked at him and said, “Bear has cancer.” Then I finally burst into tears. I didn’t stop crying for 5 days.

We made the drive to the vet. She sat down with us, having more time to explain the severity of the situation. Bone cancer is unbelievably painful. There is no medication that will help him. The only thing that will help the pain is complete amputation. Even if he survives the amputation, he has less than six months to live; it is progressing rapidly. He would need chemotherapy. It could be less than six months. He is in terrible pain. We couldn’t believe it.

Then she said the ugliest word. Euthanasia. Gently, she told us we greatly needed to consider it. For Bear’s sake. We were completely unprepared for this, and I nearly threw up. She said we shouldn’t make any decisions right away, but take him home and spend time with him. But we shouldn’t take long, for Bear’s sake. He needs the amputation, or you need to say goodbye.

I can’t explain the darkness, the crushing pain that quickly swallowed us whole. When we got home, we couldn’t even speak. We crawled into bed with Bear and poured our love over him. It was too much to take. We dragged ourselves out of bed and onto the couch where we watched tv endlessly, anything to take our mind off the tragedy at hand.

I began doing research into osteosarcoma, and the horrifying reality began to sink in. There wasn’t really a choice to make. Bear was already not well with the kidney disease, would be a terrible candidate for surgery and chemo. And we couldn’t take the thought of him living out his last days in agony, just so we could have him by our side for a few days longer. We began to grieve, knowing what had to happen. I don’t even want to tell you the place it took us. We thought we’d never come back.

Over the next two days we ran every possible scenario in our head. Surely there was some other option. Surely this didn’t have to happen. But we ultimately made the sacrificial choice, for Bear’s sake and not our own.

My parents and sister came over Friday to say goodbye. Bear was truly a huge part of our family. I don’t remember what happened Friday night; I am thankful for sleeping pills.

I can’t even speak about Saturday morning other than to say it was the worst and most traumatic experience of my entire life. The rest of Saturday was a blur of tears, pain, and the physical reality of removing the evidence of a life once shared in your home.

We are now coming out of the darkness, faced with the finality of it all, and taking some comfort in knowing we did the right thing for Bear. Looking back on the past three months we realized how much he had changed, though he would never let you know how much he was suffering, even if he could speak.

I wanted to share his story with you so you will understand if some of the light is gone from our eyes for awhile. But our lives were made better because of Bear, and we’ll be forever grateful for the love of our little blonde angel.