Ruby. Not Your Ordinary Sheepdog.

Our usual Camping buddies
Panda and Chiefy

The Interloper
Okay, I admit it. She's cute.

We raised Old English Sheepdogs.

A wonderful breed.

Shaggy.

Smart.

Protective.

Affectionate.

Did I mention shaggy?

We had raised them for years.

Long enough that anyone remotely connected to us had one of our pups.

Old English Sheepdogs wherever you looked.

A good thing.

Then our close friends bought, in addition to their resident sheepdog, a *gasp* Miniature Schnauzer.

Heathens.

They called her Ruby.

We stared at the wee little mite suspiciously.

Snapping black eyes.

Little black nose.

Little ‘folded-over’ ears.

Okay, we had to admit it, she was cute.

Really cute.

She was accepted.

And immediately took over the household.

Now, I should probably mention here that our dogs went with us camping.

All of our dogs.

And our friends brought their dogs as well.

We usually got campsites adjacent or directly across from each other.

And put down roots.

Now we were accustomed to camping with Sheepdogs.

Who stayed in the campsite.

Even when their family went to the beach without them.

And were seldom/never heard from.

We discovered that a Miniature Schnauzer was . . . different.

For one thing, she had a habit of speaking up when there were strangers walking past.

Or thinking of walking past.

Or breathing . . . somewhere.

And she didn’t like to stay in the campsite.

If chained, she was vociferous in her opinion of families who treated their doggies so.

And, if left unchained, she would disappear.

For the first day, dealing with her was a puzzle.

Not that I pointed out that she was definitely not an OES.

Several times.

Her family soon devised a solution.

They wrapped her leash around a small log.

Which slowed her down.

Notice I didn’t say ‘stopped her’.

No, it just slowed her down.

Enough that her family could keep her in sight.

Now, when they strolled across into our campsite, Ruby would appear a few minutes later, manfully (can I say that about a female dog?) pulling her little log.

“Oh, here’s Ruby,” they would say. “With her log of shame!”

But Ruby learned.

And found her place in our family.

Amongst the sheepdogs.

I don’t know what life would be like without her.