Moe

 Who is the best dog? Tis Moe. Uphill and down, Mow loved to go. We threw every green tennis ball. Who went and got them? It was Moe.

Warm in the sun, Mow waits for a call. Let's go outside, you can catch the ball. Get up off the floor, Mow shakes his fur. Anxious to go, Moe comes down the hall.

Moe is a purebred, he's not a cur. Much arthritis he had to endure. A family member, he was great. The best dog in Roseville, that's for sure.

Ready to hike, Moe is top rate. Janet's dog first, loved pet his fate. Always on his best behavior, meet Janet up there, don't be late!

Ruby (not Moe).

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Ruby The Strong

No story about Ruby is complete unless her strength is mentioned. She was strong. Her back legs were so strong she could pull me over if I wasn't careful. One day she was getting over excited by company in the back yard so I tied her leash around a leg of my picnic table. This is a heavy picnic table with redwood table top and seat and iron bars. I can barely move this picnic table and then only a few inches at a time. Ruby, over exuberant as usual, pulled that picnic table five feet in one direction before giving up. Another incident that featured her strength was at the Coon Rapids dam. I had joined 4 girlfriends to listen to live music at the dam and enjoy the summer evening. We were sitting at a concrete table with concrete benches. Ruby was under the table and we were chatting and listening to music. Unbeknownst to me, a mounted police was coming along behind me. Ruby took off toward that horse like a rocket. Her leash was around my wrist and she pulled me off the concrete bench and I landed flat on my back, very surprised and stunned. I turn my head after her to see her barking at the horse and the horse rearing up on it's hind legs. I got up as quickly as I could and brought her under control. The mounted police chewed me out in public. I can only imagine how horrible it would be to have your horse rear up in such a crowded setting. We both returned to the table with our tails between our legs. I was very upset with her behavior that day. Ruby and I used to walk in the Humane Society fundraiser called "Walk for Animals." This is an event with thousands of dogs. When I first got her out of the car, she would bark at a few dogs but after seeing a couple hundred, she generally gave up and calmly socialized with us. One year we had a bunch of kids with us and toward the end of the walk, along Theodore Wirth parkway, there was a huge hill of green grass dotted with thousands of dandelions. The kids wanted to sit on the hill and pick the yellow flowers. We were all tired from the 5 mile walk. I stood with Ruby at the top of the hill and watch the dog and owners go by on the street below us. Something down below triggered Ruby. She took off down that hill at a high speed. My hand was on the other end of the leash and I was standing there relaxed and unaware. She about pulled my arm off when she ran out of slack on the 4 foot leash. I had no choice but to follow. If I stopped, I would land flat on my face. I couldn't stop. Once you start walking fast down a steep hill, you have to keep going. But I didn't want to keep going. Down the hill we went, against my will, woman following dog yelling all the way, "Ruby! You consarnit dog!" The language might have been more colorful. Once we got to level ground I could stop and stop I did. It's funny to think of it now but I was so upset with her that day. The people on the road were alarmed by us. The people up on the hill, my so-called beloved family and friends, were laughing their heads off at us. They knew Ruby and they knew me so this was insanely funny to them. Ruby loved exercise. When we stayed at the cabin and I used my Dad's mini-bike to travel to the farm 2 miles away, Ruby loved to run along side the mini-bike. We'd stop at the lake so she could swim but she'd generally run the 2 miles several times a day. 12 mph was a good pace for her. As much as she drove me crazy sometimes, she was a strong dog; a friendly yet pushy dog. Even my memories of her are strong.

Ruby Loved The Water

My dog, Ruby, loved the water. If I was sprinkling the lawn, she'd be right at the sprinkler head, biting at the stream of water. We had an underground sprinkler system with five heads scattered throughout the front yard. If she were biting at the water from a sprinkler head, I would walk over the the valve control and turn off the water just to see the perplexed look on her face. She'd stare at the sprinkler head for a long time before turning away. That is when I'd turn the water back on just to see her go back to it. Then I would turn it off again and turn on a sprinkler on the other side of the yard just to watch her sprint at top speed to bite at that one. Ruby would run after sprinkler heads longer than I wanted to keep turning them on and off again. She also loved boat rides because she could bite at the frothy wake at the side of the boat. We had a 12 foot fishing boat with a 7.5 HP Evinrude motor. With the throttle fully open, I could get some wake moving at the side of the boat and she would bite at that wake, snapping her jaws together and throwing her head back and forth. She would be SO excited! Without warning she would decide to bite at the wake on the other side of the boat. I'd have to be careful because a 75 pound dog throwing her weight from one side of the boat to the other was enough to tip you over if you weren't careful. And watch out if you were sitting by her because she was reckless in her water biting. If Ruby was in the boat and we were going to go fast, we took the rods and reels out first because of her recklessness. She loved boat rides but she was a handful. I never had the courage to take her for a canoe ride. If I was in the boat, she wanted to be with me. If I wanted to fish, I'd have to have someone hold her and take off away from the cabin a.s.a.p. and at full speed. If I went too slow or too close to shore, she'd follow me and sometimes swim out to the boat putting herself in danger. Sometimes we took the paddle boat out for a spin. She didn't like the plastic shell of the boat but she didn't like being left out either so she followed us. And she wasn't the only one. I remember one leisurely paddle boat trip around the point where we were surrounded by a 75 pound golden retriever (Ruby), a 110 pound golden retriever (Wedo), and a 120 pound St. Bernard (Cupid). What a sight we must have made. Good times, good times.

She Thought She Was The Boss

Offspring #2 reminds me of Ruby's rough treatment of her. Ruby loved to play "Chase Me." She would grab something of value and take off, looking behind hoping you'd be running after her trying to get it back. She'd take the kids' mittens off their hands, their hat off their head, and the toys out of their hands. She'd take my gardening trowel. Once she grabbed my red begonia - a bedding plant I had taken out the pack of six. If you didn't chase her, she'd chew it. If you needed it back, you could chase her but you'd never get it that way and in the meantime, Ruby had a boatload of fun keeping it away from you. Once, when small children were visiting, she grabbed a dirty diaper out of a diaper bag on the lawn. This was a really dirty diaper - about the worst used diaper you can imagine. I almost had it too but as my fingers nearly closed around that diaper I hesitated. What would be worse - touching this oozing diaper or letting her have it? I remember it being a hard decision. I believe I have mentally blocked out the final outcome on that incident. She took people's shoes and boots. One Sunday I was vacuuming the living room when I looked out the window and saw a twenty dollar bill lying in the grass. I went out there and also found a wallet and a driving license with some teeth marks on the corner. She stole the neighbor's wallet! I talked my husband into bringing it back to him - I was too embarrassed. Husband said the neighbor was not at all grateful for the return of the wallet and made a comment about how fences make good neighbors. The problem, when distilled down to the core, is that she thought she was the boss. She wanted me to pay attention to her and that was all she thought about. When she took my trowel or my begonia, I stopped gardening and paid attention to her. When she took the mittens off the kids, I stopped playing with them and paid attention to her. When the kids walked toward me, she would put her body between us and push them away. She cornered Offspring #2 on the deck and would not let her come in the house. When other dogs approached me, she would aggressively bark at them. I was outside building a snowman with the kids once and when I looked up I saw Offspring #2 lying on her back in the snow like an upside down turtle and Ruby's front paws on her chest. We worked on that. We taught her she wasn't the boss of us. I held her down on her back on the ground and made her stay there longer than she wanted. I had the kids help me do it so she would respect them as well. I insisted that when we went through a door, people went through first and then the dog. She never liked that. Every time we went through a door, she tried to go first - every single time. We took obedience classes and she learned to sit, heel and stay. Although we managed her behavior so we could live together in peace and harmony, I suspect she still thought of herself as the boss.

Don't Question Why She Needs To Be So Free

Song Lyrics:
She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if its gone
While the sun is bright
Or in the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and goes
Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...
Don't question why she needs to be so free
Shell tell you its the only way to be
She just cant be chained
To a life where nothings gained
And nothings lost
At such a cost
Theres no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?
Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

I had a dog named Ruby. She was a beautiful golden retriever (or golden keep it) with curly red hair. Listening to the Rolling Stones sing “Ruby Tuesday” caused memories to flood back about my dog Ruby. Ruby and I had power struggles of epic proportions. Her intelligence and constant monitoring of my behavior made for legendary confrontations. Sometimes she knew me better than I knew myself, which could be very maddening because I was the owner, and she the pet, not the other way around. If dogs can get oppositional defiant disorder, she had it. Getting her to go into her kennel is a prime example of our power struggle. She knew what I wanted. I was advised to say “Kennel” when I wanted her to go in there. I could “kennel” till the cows came home. The only way she would go in there willingly was if I went in first with a bowl of food. That was the only trick that worked consistently. Too bad I could only use it at meal times. If I were in a hurry she could lock me into a power struggle so fast my head would spin. I would act as if I wasn’t in a hurry, as if I didn’t have an appointment to get to, as if I weren’t going to be leaving in the car. Didn’t matter. She knew. I don’t know how she knew but she knew. I’d saunter casually up to her as if I would pet her, whistling an innocent tune, leash hidden under my shirt and she’d wait until I was almost within grasping distance before dashing away, a sneer on her orange little face. I’d sit on the grass and ask if she wanted petting. She’d walk up to just an inch beyond the reach of my arm and stand there looking at me, letting me know she was no fool. I paid extra attention to my body language. I’d try to reason with her. I told her about my need for speed, how important this was, how she could help me out by being a good dog and get the h--- over here right now. Didn’t matter to her. I could plead and beg. She didn’t care. I adjusted. I added 20 minutes to any routine that meant she had to go in the kennel. I enlisted the help of the kids. I pretended to give her a brushing. I offered a new toy. I'd dangle a milk bone in front of her. She knew I wanted her in the kennel. She caught onto every new trick I pulled out of my hat after only one trial. I became mentally exhausted thinking of creative ways to get her into that kennel. She was a sucker for car rides though. She would go with almost anyone, and in any car. I’d have to pretend we were going to go for a ride together and then snap the leash on her collar as she was seated in the back seat. Was that a cruel trick to play on a dog? Maybe it was but I had to get going. I loved that dog. She made me want to hit my head against the wall. She drove me crazy sometimes but I still loved her spirit. She never once looked remorseful or sorry and I just had to admire that in her.