My Story about Ruff - The Little Houdini

On 19 October 2002 a 5-month old puppy came home with me from the SPCA – a white & tan Maltese cross Jack Russell terrier. A week or two before I had been volunteering one Saturday at the kennels when this little dog captured my heart. The minute I picked him up and he put his head on my shoulder I knew he was the one.

Sitting around my boyfriend’s living room with some friends the first night he came home, one after another shouting potential names. “Zeus!” “No, he doesn’t look like Zeus!” “Champagne!” I was leaning towards “Marmalade”. “Popcorn,” shouted someone else. Were we thinking of food names because we were having supper? Sitting at a beachside coffee shop one Sunday morning the nameless puppy let out an attempt at a ferocious bark “…rrruuufff…”. We named him Ruff. And so began a most special relationship between Ruff and I.

It was evident right from the start that this was a highly intelligent dog. He learnt very quickly. I taught him to sit on the steps next to the driveway whenever I pulled the car in or out, as I didn’t want him getting under the wheels or running out of the gate. It took him 3 or 4 lessons to learn that. I was impressed by how quickly he learnt and how obedient he was. One day the neighbour across the road watched our ritual of pulling in and out of the driveway and commented on how well-trained Ruff was. Of course, I swelled with pride!

He was also very playful! And very accommodating in playing fetch. No matter how many times I threw a toy, Ruff would always dash after it! He even turned eating his pellets into a game. He’d grab one, toss it into the air and then pounce on it, pick it up, toss it again and continue doing that a few times before finally eating it. I found it very funny and would watch him many times and think, “What a happy dog. All dogs should be this happy.”
I watched him as he ran all over the park on our walks, chasing guinea fowl and ducks and anything else that moved and think again, “What a happy dog!”
And when the day’s adventures were done he settled down, content and snuggled under the duvet next to his mum. All was right with the world as long as Ruff was curled up next to me at night!

Ruff was incredibly attached to me. He followed me everywhere. If I moved from one room to another he followed me. When I took a bath, he was curled up on the bath mat next to me. He never left my side. His attachment to me was sweet, but very soon after Ruff came into my life it became evident that he suffered from what animal behaviourists call “separation anxiety”. I first noticed it when I came home and found my shoes and clothes in his bed or strewn from the bedroom to the living room and all around the house, as well as washing that had been pulled off the line and trailed all the way around the house! My housemate didn’t much appreciate her clothing ending up in the dirt and although I reprimanded him about it, I couldn’t help finding it amusing.

Unfortunately Ruff’s separation anxiety didn’t end there. In his attempt to follow me everywhere, he managed to escape and found all manner of ways to get out of the property to go in search of me. The amount of calls I got from people who had found a little dog wandering the streets of Plumstead was too numerous to count. I was always grateful to the kindhearted people who actually bothered to take in a strange little dog and phone its owner. So no matter how many times Ruff went missing I always got him back. I was always worried he’d be run over or someone would keep him. He had a very endearing nature and everywhere he went people loved him. I even had one elderly lady offer to take him should I become unable to keep him!
Ruff’s escapism kept us busy and in particular my boyfriend who spent many hours and days with pliers and chicken wire fixing gates and securing premises. Keeping Ruff safe was hard work! Many people attributed this to the inquisitive, adventurous and resourceful Jack Russell side of his nature.

On one of his well-executed escapes Ruff wandered across the subway of Plumstead station and trotted up to the supermarket on the busy main road. A lady in the video store saw him wandering around, checked his disc and called the SPCA, who in turn called me. As this was on a Saturday and I was unable to fetch him before 12h00, Ruff had no alternative but to spend the night at the kennels. By this time I was really worn down by this problem especially since we couldn’t figure out where he got out this time. I was hopeful that a night in “lock-up”, alone and away from his mum would finally teach him a lesson!

On 16 August 2002 I moved for the third time that year. The small “yard” at the back was Ruff-proof – no way to get out! However, the owners of the house always left the driveway gates in front open and this was a problem.
On 24 August Ruff took himself off down the road. Fifteen minutes later he was run over by a car. I was just on my way to look for him when my phone rang and a neighbour 2 doors down asked if I had a dog named Ruff and that there’d been an accident. Not being able to accept the worst, I told myself he’s just hurt. As I ran out the door and into the road and saw his lifeless body lying in the road, I still told myself “he’s just hurt”. My legs felt like lead as he ran towards him. The man who drove him over said he was just pulling away, he never saw a dog, he didn’t know where he came from. Ruff had been curiously sniffing around beneath his car. Curiosity, it seems, doesn’t only kill cats.

To say that I lost a very special little companion is an understatement. Out of the three dogs I’ve had in my life, Ruff was the most special. He was sweet, cute, adorable, playful, fun-loving, cheeky, intelligent, loving, friendly, adventurous and utterly endearing. He was exactly the kind of dog I was looking for. He was my baby, my Ruff-puppy (one of my nicknames for him!). As traumatic as losing Ruff was, I don’t regret the moment I picked up a beautiful puppy at the SPCA and said, “I want this one”.