Back in February 2007, my daughter Pam was asked, as she often was in those days, to take take care of a neighbor’s animals when they went out of town — in this instance on a nearly two-week trip to Ireland.

Those animals consisted of an indoor cat whose name escapes me (she was rarely visible when we went up there to check her food and water), a super affectionate barn cat who went by Ringo, and a beautiful, friendly and rambunctious golden retriever named Ruby. Here she is:

Ruby1

On the day the neighbors departed, Pam discovered Ruby had gotten out their fenced yard and asked me to investigate. I walked up to their house and found a big fir tree had fallen (a couple months earlier) and taken out a large section of the dog fence.

My guess was, with people home, Ruby was content not to stay in her yard despite the broken fence but that she had no desire to do so with nobody around.

The fence repair job looked extensive, so I did the only thing I really could do: Bring Ruby down to our place to hang out with our two dogs, Shag and Jewel.

After a week or so, I learned from another neighbor that Ruby’s family — which was just beginning to go through a messy divorce — was possibly unsure what her future with their family was. So when the female half of the couple, and her kids, got back from Ireland, I told her that if Ruby needed a new home, I’d be happy to provide it.

She told me that her soon-to-be-ex-husband wanted to be able to have Ruby at some point, but that I could keep her until he got a suitable place for the dog, or forever if that never happened.

Shortly thereafter I talked to the guy, and he said basically the same thing, and said he planned to pay for Ruby’s food, vet bills, etc. while she stayed with me (which he did).

A year passed. Then two. Then a few more months.

Finally, the fellow notified me in the spring that he’d bought a new place, a Ruby-appropriate place, and planned to take the dog back after the deal closed and he got a fence installed.

It was a punch in the gut, but I did know all along this sort of thing was possible, so I began steeling myself for the inevitable. Her impending departure ate at me, but I was determined Ruby would get my best for as long as she was with me.

After a few weeks of delays on the fence project, Ruby left us last Sunday. Not much more I really need to say about that; life is hard sometimes.

Thankfully Jewel, our lone remaining dog (Shag, sadly, went to dog heaven a few months after Ruby came to live with us), seems to be adapting OK. She’s obviously a bit off her game, but not as bad as I feared, so I’m optimistic she’ll be happy as an only dog — and if that seems not to be the case, we’ll head over to SafeHaven and find her a new buddy.

And just in case you were wondering what Jewel looks like, here she is (don’t tell my wife, but I let dogs sleep on the furniture):

jewel couch

And what the heck, here’s a pic of Shag, too, back when he was just a little guy (he grew up to be a 100-pound, bearlike creature):

shagger