At Home With Ruby

My (Tricia's) departure from St. Martin and arrival in Baltimore was uneventful, which was a blessing given the amount of bad weather Maryland has had this year.  I was stressed, in more ways than one. Although Music was moored, and wasn't going anywhere until the engine was fixed, I still worried about my family in light of the recent boarding by hoodlums episode. News from St. Lucia about a cruiser that was killed while trying to protect his wife from thieves added to the concern. And no, we aren't going to St. Lucia or St. Vincent (even worse there).  But I had made my decision to go home and booked my flight, before the 'incident' happened.

Ruby is our oldest dog, and the one we worried about leaving the most. She was a rescue, a Vizsla, that Queen Anne's County Animal Control found outside of Food Lion on Kent Island 6 years ago. I went to collect her when they called me thinking I would place her in rescue, and they would find her a nice home. I took my first look at her, and knew that she would be coming home with me, and never leaving. Her face was gray, and she was as big as a house, not in a good way. Try placing an old, fat dog of any breed. It's not that easy. She had malformations of one back foot, and when we x-rayed her, one hip had been busted and healed improperly. She limped. A sad case. Add to her maladies, a constant battle with what we later learned were food and inhalant allergies, and she becomes a dog only a veterinarian would take home.

Ruby knew her name. We didn't name her. The day I broke her out of Animal Control prison, I took her to my office. I was doing surgery that afternoon, and we weren't too busy, so Ruby sat in an open cage while I did my work. Once all work was done, my technicians and I started calling out names. We went through at least a hundred common names. Ruby didn't budge. She sat looking at us in an open cage. Then I went through common Vizsla and red dog names. She didn't budge. As almost an afterthought, I asked her, 'Is your name Ruby?', and she bolted out of the cage as fast as she could across the room and into my lap, tail wagging, and whining the happiest sound I had ever heard. Her name was Ruby. We knew she was at least 7-8 years old, she had a long list of medical problems, and her name was Ruby.

So why, when we learned she had a form of pancreatic cancer called an Insulinoma, would I even consider making every effort to prolong her life? It boiled down to two things. First, I'm a vet, and sometimes it's hard for us to not make every conceivable effort and go the extra mile for our pets. We have to try. It's just part of our nature. We know there are things that can be done, we assess the risk, we accept the risk, and we try to make them better. Period. The second reason, was that Ruby is one of the best dogs we have ever had. I felt it was only right to give her a chance. One month to live without surgery, or maybe a year with surgery. So I flew home to take care of her.

Surgery went well, considering that the mass was in a bad position in the middle of her pancreas, and probably wasn't benign. She actually recovered well from the anesthesia ( a risk for her because, oh yeah, she also has a heart arrhythmia). But the days that followed were not so promising. Her recovery slipped, and her biopsies came back as malignant. Her behaviors supported a suspicion that the cancer had spread to her brain. Her deterioration was painful to watch, and on day three of recovery, I had her euthanized, the only final gift that I could give her, peace.

If anyone were to ask me what was the hardest part of leaving life on land for a life as a cruiser, I would easily answer giving up my animals, and leaving family and friends. Ruby was part of our family for almost 6 years, and she was loved. We knew when we left, that we risked returning to land life only to find some of those family and friends might no longer be with us. We will miss Ruby greatly. She brought us great joy, and in return she had a happy, comfortable life with us for her final years.

Thank you's: to my parents, sister and her family, who have taken care of our dogs while we have been gone. To Mat's sister, Beth, who has our cat. To Betty, a friend who has our bird. To the nice families that adopted our horses. To my friends and family who supported me during this ordeal, you know who you are. To Dr. Busick, for handling things from afar. To Ruby's specialists at CVRC, Dr. Paola and Dr. Minihan, who did everything they could for Ruby, and who understood not only her pain, but mine as well. I can never thank you enough. And To QACAC - thank you for giving me Ruby, without whom our journey together would not have taken place. And to Mat, Cary, and Ginny, who let me go home to take care of her.

For Ruby:

" She seemed grateful that I took care of her, and I was grateful for what she continued to teach me about slowing down, living in the moment, and not giving up in the struggle to learn a different way." Amy Herdy

We will always love you, Ruby.