I’ve posted here several times about “Dog Park Ruth“, the orange-haired, highly spirited octegenarian I have befriended at the popular dog run near my home. This is the same Ruth who had a near death experience and chooses, for the sake of her relationship, to maintain a dwelling separate from her boyfriend of 50 years.
Ruth always has at least one story of interest to share and several morsels of wisdom to impart when when we meet. This weekend was no exception.
“You know there were municipal officers here today handing out fines for off-leash dogs,” Ruth advised as she spread her newspaper on the stone bench, placed her cane on the retaining wall behind her and sat beside me beneath the lime tree. “The tickets are 450 shekels ($120 U.S.)”
Damn! I replied. Did they get you?
“Me?” Ruth responded, an impish grin appearing on her carefully made-up face.
“First of all, they didn’t want to fine me. They wanted to haul Jessie off to the pound because she was off-leash and they didn’t know where I was. If that had happened, they would’ve fined me and THEN charged me a per-day holding fee.”
Wow! Bastards! I responded.
“Nah, nah,” Ruth retorted with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I told them they can’t fine me; I’m a pensioner. It’s illegal to demand more than my social security pays me each month.” Ruth was beaming as she continued.
“Then I purposely looked sad and asked the officers: ‘What? You’re going to take away my best friend? The only companion I have in my life? What will I be left with?'”
I chortled, clapping my hand to my mouth.
You’re shameless! I admonished with delight, hastily reminding her of the boyfriend of five decades and family members she routinely mentions in conversation.
Ruth smiled broadly, her red lipstick accenting gleaming white teeth. “I eat those types for breakfast.”
I have a lot to learn from this woman.