Ruby

A special gift

Ruby’s name was Runner when she came to me. A pretty White Shepherd that had been dumped on her owner’s son, who didn’t want her. The son wanted to move and didn’t want a large dog with escape artist skills and a cough. Her journey with me started when I agreed to take her until the owner returned.

I soon found out the owner was in Florida and had no return date planned. In addition, this pretty girl didn’t get along with other female dogs. So she and my Basset Hound, Molly, had to be separated at all times when not supervised by two people. I needed information about this breed—fast, and the cough worried me. That led me to contact the local White Shepherd Rescue (WSR) organization. Wow! What an education.

WSR came to visit, along with their dog trainer. To my concern, I learned that they never adopt two females to the same home. It’s a “thing” with this breed more times than not. That led to the trainer evaluating me and my training skills. I passed muster and got some great training tips, but that didn’t mean an end to gates in every room to keep the girls apart. They also brought me a huge crate because Ruby’s terror during a thunderstorm was extreme. The danger of her going through a window was real. When all was quiet, she was a lover.

I also learned that the White Shepherd is a breed. It’s not a White German Shepherd or a White Swiss Shepherd. It’s a complicated history of how they evolved into a separate breed, and not all sources agree. This isn’t a history lesson. So, on with the story. My Ruby also had freckles and a hint of pink on her nose. It was called a snow nose.

White Shepherds are not well-suited for city living and busy environments, which explains a lot. She came from a home where she was free to run on acreage. Hence, her original name, Runner. Runner became Ruby because I wanted to give her a name befitting her value and one that suited her new situation.

As I made plans with WSR to cover her vet bills, continue training, and foster Ruby until a suitable home came along, the universe soon revealed it had other ideas. The vet spent a lot of time with Ruby and eventually ran enough tests to discover she had valley fever in the bone, which made it unlikely she would find a home, even though I offered to foot the bill for the medication. It’s difficult to diagnose and is often mistaken for bone cancer.

Eventually, I adopted Ruby and brought her to Texas with me when I moved. After we settled in, I noticed her bark changed, and her cough worsened. I found an exceptional vet who sent her to a specialist. Sadly, we learned she had megaesophagus. It’s tough to treat, but I decided to give her the best care I could as long as she had a good quality of life.

Megaesphagus care has improved since Ruby’s days. Now, there are special feeding chairs, even for big dogs. I had to train Ruby to sit in a specific position, propped up by furniture, so I could use both hands to help her eat. Her food had to be made into meatball of a specific size and hand-fed slowly to allow her to swallow without choking. That’s a lot of meatballs!

I also had to watch her to be sure her esophagus didn’t collapse and block her breathing. Yes, I was worried, but Ruby played with dog toys, smiled a lot, and woofed at squirrels like usual. As long as she was happy and felt good, I felt that allowing her to enjoy the rest of her life with a family who loved and wanted her was the best option. It’s never an easy call, but I had the support of a great vet who would work me in anytime and took many calls. That’s harder to find now.

Ruby and Molly, our other dog, eventually laid butt to butt while I watched TV. They even ran around the yard freely most days. Ruby was still touchy, and all the time they spent together was supervised. Still, I hope she was as happy as she looked for the rest of her days.