Ruby has come home. It will be over 60 degrees tomorrow and it’s the kind of weather where it would take a big truck with a winch, or an act of God to get her to come inside, from her post at the gate, surveying her world on the inside and out.
She didn’t need much. She wasn’t a cuddle. She didn’t need to be on you every minute. But some part of her would always touch your foot, or something. She always let you know she was there.
In the kitchen, she had the talent of laying right where you needed to move. The better to drop the food you were preparing. Because, after all, didn’t you REALLY mean it for her?
She was my pride and joy and now she is gone.
I get up and put on clothes and go to work. I make sure Mom has decent meals (she’d live on peanut butter sandwiches, American cheese sandwiches or fried egg sandwiches if she had her way).
It still hurts.
Deep Thoughts (or Not) 