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.