Get Goose

Before we adopted our dog, Ruga, I didn’t really know a lot about Bloodhounds. I grew up with dogs, but had never had a Bloodhound before. My husband had one in a former life and said they were great family dogs. I was a little concerned about Ruga getting along with our other dog, Wilbur (AKA Spoiled Bastard), but crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

We found out about Ruga through the Southeast Bloodhound Rescue. They told us she was in Roane County, GA in a shelter. She was emaciated and worn down…had obviously been living on the streets for a while. She was due to be euthanized the next day, so my husband literally ran for the border to get her.

Ruga is one big (and I mean big…130 pounds big…we fattened her up like the rest of the family) ball of love. She doesn’t have a care in the world, that dog. She is laid back and carefree. Her face is a wrinkled up mound of skin and her eyelashes are to die for (Spade calls them her mascara).

She steals your heart in an instant…and can clear a coffee table off in an instant too. Bloodhounds are large dogs with even larger tails. One swoop of the tail and that’s all she wrote.

When Ruga sniffs food on the table, her nose is literally sniffing the food. Never leave food unattended. A few weeks after we got her, she was in our neighbor’s yard helping herself to items on the BBQ grill. Lovely. The dog was living on the streets for God’s sake, give her a break. If you were eating pebbles all day and suddenly spied a chicken leg, you’d scarf it down too.

Ruga’s ears deserve a post all their own. They are long and silky for about five minutes after a bath. Then they’re in the food bowl, or in the mud, or dragging on the floor. They pick up dirt better than a Swiffer.

And, finally, there is the drool. This is something someone should have warned me about (especially considering my OCD condition). Bloodhounds are apparently notorious for their drool. Ruga can have drool hanging from her lips to the floor, thicker than a rope. You can imagine what happens when she shakes her head inside the house. Slob-o-rama. The slobber lands everywhere. And if you’re not there to wipe it up immediately, it just dries up for later discovery. I could spend half my Saturday on a slobber exploratory mission. You know you have turned a corner in life when your weekends become one big treasure hunt for slobber and slung baby food particles.

All this to say, I would not trade Ruga for anything in the world. She is amazing. She’s one of the best cuddlers I know (she’s the size of a human, so I guess she would be). She does this thing we call the Ruga Dance that cannot be described in words. She lets Wilbur rule the roost, but knows she is the true princess. Bottom line, Ruga rocks. Go Ruga, Go Ruga.

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