Ravishing Ruby gave lifetime of love

Outdoors in Alaska, by Howard Delo

This column is a little different. Other than stating the Alaska waterfowl season opens Monday, there will be no mention of hunting, fishing or outdoor politics.

Instead, I want to tell you about a very special little girl we lost on Aug. 22. Alaska's Own Ravishing Ruby, or Ruby for short, was one of our three pet dogs. If you're thinking, "Oh no, not another sad dog story," that is not my intent. If you choose to turn the page to another article, I understand. I will try to describe pure love, and for me, that was my little Ruby-Bear.

My wife and I got Ruby 13 years ago on special order from a pet store in Anchorage. She was a miniature black-and-tan dachshund. When we picked her up, she had mange mites, kennel cough and was little more than a bag of bones. So much for humane and caring treatment in the pet stores.

When she first ran out from the back room, she came over to me, gave me one quick kiss, and ran off to explore the front of the store. Even then, she was strong-willed and fiercely independent. We were outraged at her treatment but were more concerned about getting her to a veterinarian for a physical, shots and other treatments she needed.

She survived her early life ordeal and went on to grow larger than the average miniature -- ending up around 15 pounds for the majority of her adult life. She was tall for her breed, with slender and delicate-looking legs but was lean, muscular and extremely quick. My wife already had another dachshund who had bonded to her, so Ruby bonded very strongly to me. She loved Debby too, but as my wife often referred to Ruby, she was "Daddy's Girl."

In her puppy and early adult years, Ruby loved to chase tennis balls and actually became a better retriever than the black Labrador retriever I had then.

Once, while we were living at the Big Lake Hatchery, we took Ruby along when we went shooting at the small shooting range on site. The first shot from the .22 rifle scared her badly and she took off on a dead run for the duplex. We found her hiding under the stairway to the front door. From then on we avoided sudden, loud noises around her.

Thunderstorms and fireworks also frightened her and she often came to me, wanting to be held for "protection" and comfort.

In the evenings while watching television, Ruby would lie on the back of the couch behind my head, basically draped across my shoulders. Later on, after I discovered a recliner, she would get her favorite doggie treat out of the bowl beside the water dish and come sit with me, tightly against my right leg, and eat her treat while I scratched her ears. When she had enough, she would move over to her "nest" on the loveseat she claimed as her own.

Ruby learned my schedule and within a half-hour or so of my usual arrival time from work, would go stand by the deck door until let out. She would bark and watch, waiting for me to come home. My wife started calling this "Daddy Watch." Her whole body wiggled with excitement when she met me at the door. Her daddy was home.

When I started seriously writing, Ruby would accompany me into my "office" and stay with me. I bought one of those small padded dog beds and laid it on the floor, right next to my chair, so she could have a comfortable place to lie. The bed is empty as I write this.

Ruby loved me with her whole being. She never questioned actions or motives. She never criticized. The look of pure love and utter devotion was always in her eyes. I hope and trust she is in a better place now.

Howard Delo is a retired fisheries biologist living in Big Lake.