Welcome to our new housemate, Ruby

Usually, I’m alone with my thoughts on the early drive to work. A few weeks ago, bleary-eyed and in need of a jolt of caffeine, I drove down the county road and saw a little head pop out of the tall grass. I blink. Nothing. Blink again. Head pops up.

A puppy.

I pulled over and got out, trying to see if the pup was OK. The pup was OK enough to dart across the road into an abandoned, overgrown property. The skeletal pup took refuge underneath an old truck, and just looked at me, then disappeared.

I spent a few minutes trying to coax the pup out, but nothing. I ran home and got food and water, and left bowls by the fence.

And so began the dance. I’d put out food and water twice, sometimes three times, a day. I always stayed on the road-side of the fence. After a few days of little cooperation from the pup, I decided to crawl over the fence and bring the food and water bowls closer to where she’d pop out from when I called her.

I’d sit out there with her, but she’d never get any closer than 10 or so feet. I posted her photo online, and a friend started calling her Ruby. Then other people called her Ruby.

When I’d go out there, I’d walk around talking to her, calling her by name hoping she’d have a change of heart regarding letting me catch her. No such luck.

The longer this went on, the hotter it was getting, and the higher the grasses and weeds were growing.

Then the storms started. This past week, we had monster storms with hail. I’d stayed out as long as safely possible, but always had to leave. She’d come out for food and stay but once the thunder started, she’d take off under a ramshackle structure. Smart pup, probably smarter than the human.

After the night of the tornado warnings, we decided we had to try and trap her. A rescue friend got a trap and, before another round of storms, we carried it over the fence and loaded it up with rotisserie chicken. My husband Wayne drove down the road, and I stayed out by my car on the roadside.

After a couple of minutes of calling, she popped out of her hiding place. She circled the trap, sniffing the chicken. She sat at the end, watching the chicken. I don’t know if she was waiting for it to do tricks or what. Then the thunder started. She jumped up and walked right into the trap, which scared the daylights out of both of us.

Wayne drives down and we start the process of carrying her from the middle of the property, to the fence, to the truck. I told Wayne I was standing out there praying not to get hit by lightning, and telling the puppy, “Please don’t bite my face.”

Ruby has been here a few days now. She is still afraid of her own shadow but is getting better. She’s a fan of the big dogs, and an even bigger fan of food.

She also loves her bed and blankets. She snores. She has a ball the size of her head, but hasn’t a clue how to play. But, she’ll learn.

Welcome home, Ruby.

Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News and Quay County Sun. Contact her at:

[email protected]