To quote Mother Teresa, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” And sometimes great love comes in small packages: meet Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
(Why isn’t this in the Pet Pictures thread or something similar? Because this is something of a milestone with a considerable backstory — which I’ve tried to condense, with mixed success. So, onward …)
The story actually begins in 2005, when the Younger Ottlet fell desperately ill with what turned out to be Crohn’s. I’ve dealt with that subject elsewhere, and there’s no need to recapitulate here; what’s relevant is that between her second and third surgeries she got something she’d wanted for a long time: a Pug she named Oscar. And for the next 15+ years, through all the surgeries, anemia, blood transfusions, iron infusions, pain and general misery he was always there to snuggle, comfort and console. At times it seemed he was the only thing keeping her going.
But Time is a right bastard, and after a year of declining health Oscar took his final breath in YO’s arms on 27 September last. At the risk of sounding overdramatic, she was devastated (even though she knew the end was fast approaching). Since he died in her room, she went to stay with her boyfriend, returning only to tend her plants.
Fast forward to November. One evening she looked out the window and noticed a small black and white dog attached by a leash to the bus stop bench across the street. Early the next morning she saw the dog was still there, which caused her some concern. Later the dog wasn’t there … because she’d freed herself and was running around in traffic. Which was the proverbial last straw. Fortunately the leash was still attached so boyfriend could stomp on it before the dog was hit. A quick exam and some inquiry revealed that a) she was in poor shape (very thin, poor coat and a bad cough), and b) her owner was a nutcase who was barely capable of taking care of herself, let alone a dog.
YO was pretty sure she wasn’t ready for another dog, but couldn’t let things continue as they were. She found a vet who had open clinic hours and took the dog in; the vet confirmed the URI but said there were no other serious health issues aside from obvious neglect. Given the neglect, he said that if YO paid for her care she would legally be considered the dog’s owner. Still not sure about what to do eventually, YO gave the go-ahead.
That was November. Any doubts about Ruthie’s status dissolved before she was done recovering from the URI; now she’s embedded in the family, healthy, happy and insanely energetic (one of her favorite pastimes is to cannonball around the yard faster than the eye can follow, then collapse in any convenient lap). Consensus is that she’s a Papillon mix — probably a Papijack — with appearance mostly Papillon and temperament about 50/50. What’s most important, though, is what she’s done for YO. She’ll probably never really stop grieving for Oscar, and will always have a Pug-shaped hole in her heart; but she smiles and laughs a lot more, and has a greatly improved outlook on life. Amazing what a small package of love can do.
(Believe it or not, this is the condensed version. Thanks for any/all who made it through.)