Ska-ruffy, a real wire haired terrier

Ska-ruffy, a real wire haired terrier, and everybody’s pal.


Ska-ruffy was a wired haired terrier, not an average wire haired terrier, he had real wire hair! He was born that way to the total distain and dissatisfaction of his wealthy owners, who quickly found it was easier to use him as a brush than to brush him.

With his tough wire bristle coat, Ska-ruffy was not the runt of the liter, or the pride of the liter. He was just the litter of the liter, and thrown out of his posh abode like trash as soon as his hair came in full and - well - wiry. His highly selective owners kept only the best of bred in their well-healed home. It was bristlingly clear, Ska-ruffy would never be best in their show. Ska-ruffy was not wanted. He had to go.

One dark night, near an old junk yard that snaked along the muddy banks of a foul smelling river on the outskirts of a very rough part of town, something slithered out of the fog. A pair of headlights lit up two shafts in the fog. A pack of guard dogs jumped up, barked, and growled as the long slick shiny limo slowed and crunched dirt and gravel under it wheels. The chauffeur never stopped the vehicle. He just opened the back window and Ska-ruffy and another misfit were unceramoniously tossed out. The tinted window closed up squeaky tight, and left the two pups out in the chill damp night air. No one behind the dark glass waited or cared to see where the two pups rolled or where they stopped.

Poolee was out cold. Ska-ruffy was shaken but sat up and watched the big rear tires kick up dirt and greasy gravel like a dog burying something it left behind. The wheels dug a smoky hole, and threw more dirt onto his hurt feelings and into his sad face. Ska-ruffy felt like a pile of crud that was left behind. Once their dirty deed was done, the stretch limo disappeared in a cloud of dust, sucked up into the thick dreary night fog.

Ska-ruffy and Poolee, his non-standard poodle side kick, were on their own and only three months old. In owner years that made them less than two, which is a very young age to be completely on your own. But, there they were, a wire haired terrier and a passed out poodle being barked at by a pack of junk yard dogs. Ska-ruffy stuck out his tongue, and very carefully licked his wired hair, as he looked over at Poolee who was still out like an unlit light bulb.

Poolee, like Ska-ruffy had a genetic problem and was tossed out because he was less than perfect. Poolie was narcoleptic, which meant he would fall asleep – well - pass out, whenever he got excited or scared. When you're bred to be a show dog, passing out while on the judges’ stand is not a championship maneuver. Poolie had passing out in his genes, and was often out for the full count, as he was then. Ska-ruffy, however, was tough and wiry and knew he needed to make the best of this sad situation, and soon he did.

The barking dogs sounded more and more vicious. Ska-ruffy heard about junk yard dogs, although he had never met any personally, and knew that Bull dogs could be bullies, Pit bulls could be the pits, and Rotweilers could be, well – rotten. Poolee, opened his eyes took one look at the dangerous situation, rolled his eyes up and passed out again into a warm pool of poodle. Ska-ruffy knew that he and his passed out pal would need to make friends with these formidable frothing canines, or else. Ska-ruffy studied the situation.

The guard dogs growled, showed their teeth and drooled juicy gobs of slobber from their flabby jowls and pink gums. The only thing separating the delectable innocence of puppy meat from the junk yard reality of chopping hungry jaws was damp air. Ska-ruffys heart raced. He was thinking fast.

Ska-fuffy had no direct experience with a situation like this, but he knew if he was able to get them to laugh he and his helpless passed out poodle pal would have a chance.

“Say you boys look tense,” Ska-ruffy said in as confident tone as a petrified puppy could muster.

“Could any of you use a good message? Oh, you are all boys’ right?”

They all stopped to think, which was unusual for them all. The Rotweiler, who did not look like the smartest canine in the kennel but was by just a hair, stopped his bad attitude bark and thought.

“Ya know I am kind of tense, a message sounds good.”

Ska-ruffy noticed the look on the Rots less than scholarly mug and said,

“Well, what about you Rotzy? It looks like that big thick neck of yours could use some attention.”

One of the other nasty dog heard “big thick neck of yours”, and it got his funny dog bones a laughing. That was all Scruffy needed, he got a laugh.

“What about you funny bones, can I interest you too?”

Scruffy said loud and clear and bold, for a young puppy. Poolee heard Ska-ruffy’s wise-cracking voice and opened his eyes again and looked at his protector with a “what are you doing” look. Ska-ruffy, noticed Poolee’s look, which had changed the mood of the dogs as they barked again. Ska-ruffy, without missing a beat, said.

“My buddy here gives the best massages”

Poolee looked at Ska-ruufy, did a triple double-take then rolled his eyes up into his soft fuzzy poodle head and passed out into a mound of what looked like cotton balls. All the dogs laughed at the sight of the passed out poodle. Ska-ruffy knew he and his narcoleptic side kick were in the clear.

“Once you get them laughing your safe. They won’t eat the entertainment”, he thought.
“I hope!”

Ska-ruffy was right, and once he got them laughing, he and Poolee found junk yard dogs were not all bad. Ska-ruffy, once again, proved he could make even the toughest mutts laugh. He knew even junk yard dogs need a pal. Ska-ruffy was everyone’s pal.





Several days passed and Ska-ruffy, in order to get his daily kibbles, stated to do little bits of work. He did odd jobs, very odd jobs. His first full time meal ticket was as a pot washer at a fancy French Vietnamese restaurant, the Ho Chi Mignon. He helped scrub out the big pots.

Ska-ruffy would jump in, spin around like a break dancer, and scour out all the stuck on food. He cleaned up! Often he snacked while he worked, and liked his tasty job, until one day the Board of Health paid a surprise visit and found Ska-ruffy at the bottom of a large pot of beef stew, where he was enjoying himself, far too much. He was booted out of the posh cuisine eatery onto his sorry canine behind.

Even though the Board of Health did not approve of his occupation. Ska-ruffy was still everybody's pal.




Ska-ruffy, the wire-haired terrier and everybody’s pal #2 - A real working stiff.

When we last left Ska-ruffy, a wire-haired terrier who was born with real wire hair, he was working as a pot washer at a fancy French Vietnamese eatery, the Ho Chi Mignon. He had just lost his job. It something about the Board of Health and him not wearing a hair net, whatever.

When you are a wired haired terrier, it is difficult to hold down a steady job, even an odd job. Ska-ruffy, out of a work, wandered around town with his best buddy Poolee, a narcoleptic poodle who passed out when overly excited. They picked up scraps here and there, until one day; Ska-ruffy came to a wide-open lush green meadow. It reminded him of the happy days back at his well groomed birth place, where he would playfully romp around the well manacured grounds with his liter buds.

Ska-ruffy was so happy, as he ran across this lovely big lawn without a care. Poolee stared and watched. He knew if he got that excited, he’d be doing nap time, so he just looked. Right in the middle of the green field Ska-ruffy saw a white ball and ran over and scarffed it up off the freshly mowed field. The ball felt odd. It was hard and dotted with tiny depressions and sounded funny as it rolled around inside his hungry mouth, between his little teeth and gums.

Ska-ruffy was about to spit the odd ball out when he looked up and saw a man in a very funny looking outfit with an even funnier looking hat, shaking a metal stick in the air. The man looked right at Ska-ruffy and yelled.

"Put that ball down!"

The ran toward Ska-ruffy waving the shiny stick and scared the pooch out of bewildered pup. Ska-ruffy jumped straight up, ran a few strides tripped, tumbled, and swallowed the slick dimpled ball.

With outstretched arms and agitated hands, the furious man was about to grab Ska-ruffy by his collarless neck. Luckily, three other men drove up in a cart and laughed at the scared silly look on Ska-ruffys’ quivering wiry face. Even the angry one stood up without ruffling a bristle of Ska-ruffy wired-hair coat and laughed.

Ska-ruffy did have a fearful look and he felt terrible too. He wanted to run away and hide, but when he stood up and took only a puppy step, he felt dizzy and fell down to the grassy ground into a most uncomfortable position. He had just swallowed a good sized morsel for a dog his size, and whatever it was he swallowed it was not sitting well.

Ska-ruffy was in no position to move and rolled onto his side, so did the ball inside. He rolled onto his back and all around looking for a comfortable spot for himself and the ball. There was none. It looked like Ska-ruffys’ was break dancing and he looked up even sillier than before.

With his tight wire hair and all the rolling around on the soft freshly cut lawn, Ska-ruffy had picked up loose grass and sod and looked like a great green Chia pet. Feeling less than dignified with his new green jacket, Ska-ruffy shook his uncomfortable body as if he was shaking off water. Grass and dirt flew everywhere. Ska-ruffy sneezed sod out from his nose and looked at the men.

They laughed so hard tears filled in their eyes and they slapped their thighs. One fell to the ground, rolled around, and sneezed sod from his nose too. He rolled far too well and looked ridiculous, Ska-ruffy thought. Ska-ruffy wanted him to stop and felt in no mood or condition to laugh.

Sensing Ska-ruffy was not break dancing and was actually a distressed puppy, one of the men, leaned down and picked him up. The man, had a gentle way with animals, but when he felt Ska-ruffy, he realized to his utter amazement -

"This dog has wire hair!"

Astonished and uneasy, the man gingerly passed the puzzled pup off to his friends and they examined him as if he was a mutant strain from a failed brush with genetic nature. Little bits of sod fell off Ska-ruffys’ wire coat as each man held Ska-ruffy very gingerly and finally put him back down as if he was a kibble-eating time bomb. They were not sure about this highly unusual wire-haired terrier.

Ska-ruffy felt uncomfortable with all this unfamiliar fondling and tried to bark. But, the ball in his tummy and the condition of his throat after he swallowed it made his bark come out like a burp. Ska-ruffys’ ear shot up at the sound. He shook his head fast and looked around, adding amusing animation the surprised slapstick expression on his already unnatural looking face. His ears dropped down. He knew none of them made the sound. It must have been him, he thought, and noticed he felt a little better so he burped again and contentedly licked his nose. Much better, he thought. The men laughed again and the one who was getting up fell back down and wiggled his stubby little exposed legs into the fairway air.

As they regained their composure and got back to their game of golf, none of them had any hard or bristled feelings about the circumstances of their meeting. Ska-ruffy joined the foursome. Luckily, for Ska-ruffy, although a wire haired dog swallowing a golf ball was not specifically cited in the rule book, the man, whose golf ball was currently unplayable, decided to drop a ball. He did not lose a stroke. Ska-ruffy, unfortunately still in the rough, had the painful experience of finding out what he swallowed was not eatable. It came out later; that a golf ball was not something a dog should eat.

Poolee, who had passed out just watching the commotion, came to and silently watched as Ska-ruffy drove off with the four men in the two golf cart. Poolee, like most poodles was breed for high society, but he preferred to stay in the shadows and off the fairways. He knew his buddy Ska-ruffy would get him scrapes.

At the club house, as Ska-ruffys’ chaperones showed off their prickly new pal, they noticed he had no collar and did not know who owned him or what to do with him. Since Ska-ruffy had bonded with them, and gotten the game of golf in his system, and knew eating golf balls was a hazard, they decided to adopt the cute tough bristled wire-haired terrier. Ska-ruffy, with the help of his very respectable, low handicap pals; became a big hit at the club. He was such a hit they made him their mascot and soon Ska-ruffy was living it up at the Country Club.

Ska-ruffy loved his new home and found a novel job at the club, one well suited to his odd and wiry genetic condition. Ska-ruffy would stand firmly at attention outside the clubhouse door and as the golfers entered, they would clean their clotted shoes on his wire back. It worked out great. He felt he was doing a good service, the golfer shoes were never so clean, and at the end of the day, he had spent his time getting back rubs. It was a respectable job and it felt good too.

The Groundskeeper built him a special dog house, which he was never in, the Social Director made him a special double-breasted coat with “Ska-ruffy, the wire-haired terrier” tastefully embroidered above the Country Club’s crest. The jacket even had a soft red rope handle that made it easier to pick the prickly pup up and gave him a formal, distinguished, almost regal look. He was a member of the club with full run of the place.
Poolee got plenty of rich high brow scrapes and laid low.

It was perfect. Ska-ruffy would have kept his back scratching job for life if it were not for the embarrassing botch up at the annual banquet and that awful punch bowl incident. Ska-ruffy was ceremonially removed of his duties, and lost his dog house, his embroidered jacket, and even some of his dignity. He was no longer the respectable Country Club mascot. He was canine non gratis.

Ska-ruffy does not like to remember that sad night but his fun loving friends who were there, and a large part of the travesty, would never let him forget it. Occasionally they teased him enough that even he laughed. After all, it was a very funny story, what with the food fight, the ice sculpture melt down and, well, it was a ridiculous story that would be told again, possibly in the next chapter.

To be continued…




copyright 2005 Gene Fredericks