81 Comments

All: I neglected to include the photo credit for the incredible picture of Ruby. It is, of course, by my beautiful and talented wife, Tracy Harris.

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Beautiful image, and the experience reading this, brought tears to my eyes.

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Well written as always. Your prose is as expressive as Ruby’s eyes.

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My wife calls what you describe "doggie internet". Ruby gets meaning from those smells. Important that you indulge her.

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Dave Barry call sniffing the dog equivalent of reading the paper--how dogs keep abreast of what is happening in the neighborhood

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I'm a huge Dave Barry fan. You don't need to be old to enjoy his view of the world. Many years ago he wrote about the "Baltimore Death Flu". That is a classic in my family. I'm glad to know another fan.

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Also a huge fan. I don't know if I read that one....

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I've also seen and heard referenced "reading the pee-mail".

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In the play “Sylvia” about an anthropomorphized dog, she goes on a walk with her owner, and says “scuse me! I need to collect my messages.” She then buries her nose in the grass around a fire hydrant.

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Same concept. Different decade. Or century.

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Well, yes, I admit I'm old

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Those are moments when Hazel is taking me on a walk. We have our routine morning, afternoon, and evening walks. Each day is different for Hazel. She will track smells of her dog friends, the community cats, and anything new brings her to a focused full stop. On our walks the familiar is just as wonderful as the new. Dogs.

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Gorgeous photo and beautiful writing.

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Ruby’s eyes are far more expressive than several people I know. Give her a rub and a pat for all of us who are delighted by her stories...as told by her humans.

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Beautiful. They can read our emotions without us saying a word.

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Eyes are windows to the soul or so it is said.

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Lovely eyes, lovely dog. Great photo. I love my cat but he never looks at me like that. When he stares at me I put my hands and fingers under the covers.

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Patricia, when my Delilah comes to bed, I also put my arms under the covers. She pulls on the covers like she’s digging a badly needed hole. Then she moves from spot to spot, wailing mournfully, until inevitably curling up on my hip while I’m on my side. She makes up for it every day, when I pick her up, arms on my shoulder, and she leans back against my neck, rubbing her head on me.

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Awww. I assume Deliah is a cat. My cat sleeps with me too, but he is imprinted with some feral traits and instincts from his first 2 months sleeping rough, and I must be alert to avoid his fangs.

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Yes, she’s a cat. She and her sister, Callie, came to me as feral infants after their mother was hit by a car. We had to handle them with oven mitts. Delilah became the better socialized of the two, but Callie, God bless her, never got over the fear and anxiety. She passed last summer at age 15. To the end, my 5yo grandson was afraid of her. He loves Delilah, and she permits him affectionate liberties.

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To quote an old saying … Dogs are not our whole life, but they make or life whole.

I rescued my dog … but she rescued me right back.

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I adopted Jubal as a re-home after having my two English Shepherds put down when they could no longer move with their dog ALS, and I was despondent. my mother always said that he might have been a rescue, but HE rescued ME, and she was entirely correct.

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Dogs. Simply the best. What did we humans ever do yo deserve them?

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that's a question I ask all the time, and still haven't found any kind of satisfactory answer.

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Ruby speaks two languages fluently: eye and ear.

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What a beautiful friend is Ruby. Re: "They speak from millennia of dog experience living in a world in which almost everything is bigger and more powerful than they are." Tell Ruby for me that there's always Tazzie to look down on ...

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From my experience with dogs and cats, Tazzie would be the one looking down on Ruby.

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I concede the point - but of course it's all attitude. (And Tazzie can actually look down on Ruby from the box on the countertop ...)

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Lucian, thanks for a warm story on the date my subscription to your newsletter renewed.

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I had a wonderful dog named Ruby. I miss her every day

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She had a last name, too. Rabinowitz

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how come you never told me that?

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...she didn't LOOK Jewish.

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I wanted to raise her in a a less tribal, more ecumenical manner. Fool's errand. Ruby was like a song. She didn't know right from wrong

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I've been the recipient of that look many times.

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