Archives for posts with tag: Pug

I’m Chi.  You might remember me from the last time I snuck into my human’s office and wrote a letter to all of you. I’m back! I’m sorry I was gone so long. It’s not easy sneaking into her office a second time, you know. Plus, I’ve had a lot to contend with these past couple weeks… like my shaved butt.

Yeah, they shaved my butt. And I like it when people play with me, but that was not cool. Mom took me into the vet’s office one day when I thought we were just going out together someplace special. She left me there! Alone! I made sure I pouted at her for the whole time she walked away. Don’t tell her, but I saw my human looked kinda sad and scared. I don’t like to see her look that way.

So then, they took me back into this room and they poked me with something. It made me yelp, and then I got really sleepy. The last thing I remember is the nice lady in the white coat saying she was going to take my picture… I like pictures…

Then, everything was spinning. Spin, spin, kinda like when I chase my tail — only I couldn’t figure out which way was up. And then I woke up really thirsty and I was in a cage thing. I really wanted my humans a lot. I went back to sleep cause I couldn’t do much else.

behindbars

I guess I had stitches and things, and it hurt a lot for a while. I hated the big white pills and I spit them out cause it made my humans mad when I did that. Serves them right. Then maybe a week ago, they were talking to someone on the phone and Mom got really happy and squeezed me real tight and everyone got excited. I thought I was going to get some cheese or something. The humans did sneak me some banana. That was ok.

So ever since they have been telling people I am be-nighn, whatever that is. I’m a pug, not this other thing. I think they are confused. My dad looks at me and laughs and says I have a wart on my ass. Well, that’s rude….

You’d think my story was over, but nooooo. Then it started to rain. And it rained, and it rained, and it rained some more. You have to understand that I hate walking in the rain. It makes my big paddle feet wet. And I just don’t like it and I try to find the dry spot near the house or wherever I am so I don’t get wet. It was terrible. One day Mom came home after getting stranded without an umbrella and she was soaked to the skin. The next day she came home early with a bucket and threw water all down the driveway. I really appreciated that she wanted to get rid of the puddle of water so I didn’t have to get my paddles wet.

Later that night and the next day, my humans seemed very upset, and sad. I guess there was so much water that people could not get out and no buckets were enough. They had to get their paddles wet. I am so sad for them. They even told me about a story where a dog like me saved a man from going under the water. I really hope everyone is ok out there…

I better go for now. Bye bye and remember to keep your paddlefeet dry!

Photo disclaimer: Is this yours? Please let us know so we can give appropriate credit!

Always from the days of old men has it been this way

And none born can escape this thing.

–Miu Hsi, “Bearer’s Song”

 

Life is what happens when we’re busy making other plans. This saying is not Taoist, but it’s still true. The morning dawned bright and warm, and all indications pointed to a fine day. We were in the vet’s office with Chi to make sure he had all his shots up to date. Chi was enjoying interacting with dogs and humans alike. The exam started off normally enough. Chi was healthy, happy. All these things we knew. The vet’s smile faded as she explored Chi.

The sun passed behind a cloud as soon as she uttered the word. It was just a bump, probably nothing. Chi was taken to the back area of the clinic. An aspiration was done. It’s nothing, we all said to each other.

Several days passed, and finally the results came. Mast cells in the blood — not good news. Words like surgery and excision were mentioned. Other words like incontinence, and worse, were also bandied about. More blood tests. Discussions about chest x-rays and paths of treatment… and when not to treat. Surgery was scheduled and it was decided an x-ray would be taken before anything was actually done. If the cancer had spread, we wanted Chi to live a happy rest of his life with us. It was decided that I should take him in and take care of the paperwork and the front-end stuff, and my husband would pick him up after the surgery in the afternoon.

The morning of the surgery, Chi was unusually affectionate, nuzzling my shoulder and offering kisses. The vet met me on the way in, and grinned down at Chi. “Wild man,” she called him. She disappeared behind a door, and soon the vet tech was weighing the pug, and going over instructions. I signed the forms and handed Chi’s leash over to her. I will never forget Chi’s eyes watching me as I left the clinic and headed for the car.

About 30 minutes after I left, my cell phone rang. The x ray had been done. Nothing had spread. Even so, I went about the day’s business on autopilot. Keeping routine and living in the moment were some of the best Lessons Chi had taught me, and I worked them.  I couldn’t relax until he was safely out of surgery. Around noon, it was all over. The vet reported Chi was awake and resting comfortably.

Chi, in essence, had a cancerous bump on his ass. It appears they got it all, and very early. Life has never been so good.

Chi, for his part, milked the occasion as much as he could. The vet techs spoke of his eyes following them back and forth when he came out of anesthesia. He could not really lift his head, but his eyes followed them and he made a game attempt to beg for treats. “I’m so pitiful,” his eyes told us as he walked unsteadily back into the house. With a deep sigh he sank onto the cushions of the loveseat and promptly fell asleep.

sickychismall

Chi also has built a relationship with the neighbors to the west of us. Well, not with the humans, not really… with the dog.

When we first moved into our home, there was an elderly couple living next door. They eventually packed up and moved away, and the house was vacant for a time. Early one summer, a new family moved in. Young, hard-working, the type of people who rise early in the morning and return home, then do it all over again. A few months after they arrived, they came home one day with a visitor. This visitor liked to bark. A lot. Other neighbors would occasionally walk by, looking for the source of the noise. Some of them didn’t look very happy.

Chi, Jake and I decided to go check it out one day. A wooden fence blocked the yard from view. Through a space in the vats I saw a gangly-looking pit bull, perhaps a year old. It was well-groomed, well cared for, but it was left alone in the backyard. I felt bad for the pup, and made it a part of the daily routine to throw treats over the fence and coo at the young pittie. I also knew socializing the animal was important, especially if it was to be left alone for a certain amount of time.

I let Chi and Jake out to play a lot during that summer. Food, toys, various items made their way over the fence. One day when I went out, a new dog toy had come from the opposite direction. It was all in good fun, and everyone was bonding.

Chi developed something of a crush on his new friend. He’d bounce out the door and run directly over to the fence. Jake, being an old curmudgeon, would banter and harass and bark at the young one across the way. Not Chi. Chi would lay down on a cool brick in the shade, and try to look under the fence and play with the dog.

One day near the end of summer, we were throwing sticks in the backyard and noticed a hole in the fence. I leaned over to examine the hole and started to laugh. The pittie was standing there, tail wagging, clearly admiring his handiwork in chewing off half of the wood beam. The dog didn’t count on the chain-link fence on our side, but still, he had applied himself and wanted everyone to see his accomplishment.

By the end of that week, the entire beam was worked loose and finally fell off. The neighbors quickly hammered a replacement up onto the fence. The replacement was gnawed loose within days. Chi would be very excited during these times.  He wanted to play! My husband and I started discussing building some kind of latched gate for the pittie. The beams of wood hammered up to fill the gap in the fence became wider, still old wood, but wider. The pittie was determined to chew through them all.

Finally, one day when all the leaves were falling off the trees and autumn was giving way to winter, a thicker, bigger, newer beam of wood was hammered into place.  Chi’s new friend has not been able to chew through this one — yet. They still meet at the fence, and treats and toys go back and forth.

But Chi has yet to get his pit bull friend over for a sleepover. He can dream…

that side of the fence

Recently I’ve talked a lot about my experiences with recuperating from a neck injury. During one of these experiences with my acupuncturist, Stephanie, we were talking about the lovely Chi. Stephanie asked if Chi had ever received acupuncture. Of course! What self-respecting Chinese dog has not, especially with one with a name like Chi?

It happened about 5 years ago.

Chi, like many pugs, gets excitable at times. He’s not always the most graceful. Occasionally, he’ll trundle into serious trouble. On this particular day, he was playing with a stuffed ball on an elastic band. And he’d shake, and shake, and whack himself in the head with it. Over and over he would repeat this with no ill effect. He was really getting into it that day. He took one careless step, fell forward, and slammed headfirst into a wooden tv cart.

Poor baby cried, and snuffled, and was completely miserable. Chi would not allow anyone to touch his neck, or console him. We took him to the vet early the next morning. Luckily, he hadn’t broken or ruptured anything. Still, he had a slipped disc and was pretty wonky. One of the staff vets had experience with acupuncture for animals. At the time it seemed a natural thing to do.

Acupuncture being performed on Wallie Fitzpatrick, an 11-year-old pug.

Sadly, we didn’t think to have a camera in the vet’s office way back then. This is acupuncture being performed on Wallie Fitzpatrick, an 11-year-old pug.

One of us held him while the vet began placing the needles. This really wasn’t necessary, although it’s something most acupuncturists would probably prefer just in case. Chi didn’t flinch or make any indication that the needles were troublesome. The vet put in about 10 to 12 needles, clustered around the ruff near the site of the injury and then extending all the way down the spine. After that, the vet left us all to relax for about 15 to 20 minutes. Chi was not restless or in any way bothered. It was something to see. The vet returned, removed the needles, and sent us off with a small prescription of valium in case he became agitated during the healing process.

The prescription was nice, but Chi didn’t need them. He healed completely naturally on his own. He slept most of that first day, and exhibited some stiffness over the following 48 hours or so.

Skeptics may respond that natural healing time is around the same. I’m not a vet, and can’t really respond to that. I can say without any reservation that Chi’s level of discomfort went way down almost immediately.

So, if your adult pug or animal is showing signs of arthritis, pain, or other issues, acupuncture may be for you. Check with your vet.

I spend a lot of time looking around the web at causes and general pug-related items. A few weeks ago I came across a group relatively close to my area, and they are special indeed. They are National Mill Dog Rescue.

Puppy mills are places that are only now really getting into people’s consciousness. I understand why, too. I was brought up with those wonderful pet stores in the malls and shopping centers. I fell in love with a Peekapoo in high school just from cudding the puppy in the mall for 30 minutes or so. It’s a cherished memory. And, for years, if I needed a mental pick-me-up, I’d head to a puppy store. Cuddles given, cuddles received. These places can’t be all bad!

Pet stores in themselves are not bad. The problem is that often, pet stores use disreputable breeders who breed for numbers and sales and quick turnover — not for quality, health, and the best for the breeds. Living conditions are heart-breaking. Many live squished in cages only big enough for the animal to survive. Their feet never touch the floor. The animals used to breed are bred often and without regard for the animals’ health. Illness is rampant among dogs living in these conditions. When they are used up, they are of no use any more. If they don’t sell, they are of no use any more. And, bad things happen to these dogs then.

This is bad. And shelters and rescue organizations try to help these dogs. Often, they go to places where they never leave. Ever. And they die.

Theresa Strader was a lifelong lover of dogs, especially Italian Greyhounds. She had always been an animal advocate, but like many of us, she found out by happenstance about the devastation of Puppy Mills. This is an excerpt of her story from the National Mill Dog Rescue site:

“February 17, 2007, I arrived at the auction site in Lamar, Missouri – all new to me, I was completely unaware of what I was about to see and moreover, what I was about to learn. Little did I know that on that very day, I would embark upon the most daunting yet rewarding experience of my life. I distinctly remember every thought and feeling I had as I witnessed the cruel realities of the commercial dog breeding industry.At about noon that day, I laid my eyes on Lily for the very first time. As she cowered in the back of her cage, her jawless face staring back at me, I was overwhelmed by a flooding of emotions. I leaned close in beside her cage and made her this promise. “I’m going to take you from this hell and love you til you die.” I recall that moment as if it happened just today. In an effort to remain inconspicuous, I had to pull myself together and find the nearest exit. After a long walk, I found myself leaning up against the backside of an old barn where I slowly sunk to the ground in tears. I called my husband. I had so much to say yet nothing came out, nothing but tears. At that moment, I knew I would never rest again without taking a stand against the heartless cruelty put upon the animals that I have adored since I was a small child. The animals that throughout my life have never let me down. Man’s best friend. In that moment, on that day, National Mill Dog Rescue was born.”

Since that time, Theresa and her group have made several trips to rescue dogs just like Lily — the most recent ending just yesterday as the group travelled through Missouri and Kansas rescuing 80 dogs.  Over time, they have rescued over 8000 dogs from puppy mills.

Total trip costs of this trip are estimated at $16,000, and devoted allies have helped them raised over $13,000 to this time. Volunteers spend many hours caring for these dogs, giving them love just like Theresa gave to Lola. The time to foster, train, heal, and find loving forever homes for these wonderful dogs is,  indeed, “Lola’s Legacy.”

To see what you can do to help, visit National Mill Dog Rescue at:

http://milldogrescue.org/index.html

https://www.facebook.com/NationalMillDogRescue

Lolas

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

BlogtheChange

Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased — thus do we refute entropy. – Spider Robinson

Pain

Pain (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This week was a time of great stress – deadlines, evaluations, things to get done everywhere I looked. As the days crept along, my neck bore the burden. It was tight on Monday, aching on Tuesday. On Wednesday I had my quarterly review at work. When it was over, I was finally starting to relax. Suddenly, my neck snapped out of alignment. Pain, great pain. That night I woke up and couldn’t rest at all. Of course, the dogs sensed my discomfort.

The two Manchester terriers, Cara and Mara, both wanted to make me feel better – literally. They both jumped up by my face, licking me. Despite my best efforts, the natural reflex to protect the neck kicked in, making me jerk in pain.  They kept licking and trying to get me to move or play to feel better. While this is great puppy therapy most of the time, it was decidedly wrong for this particular occasion. They were summarily dismissed from my presence due to the fresh pain they unknowingly caused.

Chi waited until the terriers had gone to lay across the room, and then he came up close to me.

“No, Chi! Go! It hurts! Go!”  After several rounds of this, I gave up. Chi refused to leave.

The pug gingerly step-stumbled over my legs, and curled up in a ball at my feet. He snuffled with considerable nervousness.  I was still mumbling my objections. Finally I gave up and let Chi stay there at my feet.

It may hurt my pride to admit that some relatively small amount of time passed before I fell sound asleep. And, once again, I became aware of how wonderful Chi is at the fine art of being present to someone else’s pain. By insisting on “being there,” Chi made the pain seem bearable. From that point, the time passed quickly until I could go see my chiropractor and get some treatment.

The next time your animal wants to simply lie with you or rest against you, don’t be quite so fast to send them away. They may well be giving you a gift.

In the meantime, I have an hour of massage scheduled for myself tomorrow. Time to rest and rejuvenate!

chi

Related articles

Hi. This is Chi.

I took over Mom’s computer tonight for one reason. I am here to tell you that I hate Facebook.

Mommy sits on the computer all day and night. When she comes home, does she take time to snuggle her pug? NO. She gets on Facebook and talks to other pug people. And she writes about me. ALL THE TIME. Sometimes it’s embarrassing, like the time she pinned my picture to some strange French Bulldog’s wall. My belly was flashed all over the world in a millisecond! What about my puggy privacy!!!! And then there’s the thing that happened yesterday with some trollop named Anderson Pooper. I know the NSA has files on me now. I’m humiliated and I can never leave the house again!

And you know what’s the worst? She will get into fights with people she doesn’t know and will never meet. Mommy, if you want to fight, we can play tug-o-war. I’ll growl real loud and snuffle and spray snot all over you! I can do that real good.

And then there’s the people who are gonna save the world. These people are funny. Mommy likes them too and she wants me to make friends with them. I don’t know, I’m just a pug. I like to lay in the grass and stare at dandelions. I don’t get how that can change the world. Mommy thinks it can, though. That and squirrels. And rabbits. I want to chase them and play games. Mom doesn’t get it.

Oh, GAMES! Those stupid Facebook games! If I see one more Bejeweled Blitz invite on the side of my pug wall, I’ll unsubscribe Mom just to watch her cry. And there’s the trolls. I had one troll on my Facebook page, once. The person apparently didn’t like bacon. How can anyone not like bacon?

Yeah, Mommy loves her Facebook. It is kinda cool though when people get together on Facebook and do nice things. Things like find all the puppies and horses and cats and llamas and stuff spread out from the Black Forest Fire. People got together on Facebook and got puppies like me reunited with their families. I would be pretty happy if Facebook brought me back to my mommy if we got separated.

And sometimes an animal gets into trouble. Sometimes mean people want to hurt animals. And sometimes people on Facebook will give money to rescue animals like me.  Sometimes they take them to the vet, though. That can’t be cool.

Mommy’s coming. I’d better go.

I HATE FACEBOOK!

Prompt courtesy of The Daily Post.

002_2MA15385843-0004

At times, everyone needs that little “bump” life brings. Maybe we have gone stale through routine; maybe we have gotten lost through grief. Whatever the reason, life has a way of bringing opportunity to our doors.  It encourages us to dip a toe back in the collective pool, as it were.

For me, life used dogs to remind me of innocence, to show me how simple it really can be. For me, I’ll even say it was God. I now understand why people say God = dog! It’s not as denigrating as some people like to make it.

Sometimes our human minds get all tied up in complexities. In my case, it was a broken heart. Life bumped me around a bit. I was depressed, and badly so. My mother and God seemed to abandon me at the same time. There was little point. I was scared of the world and unable to relax into outside life any longer. I barricaded myself into my house, resolutely staying away from the outside world. I was locked up tight, blocking the tiniest hint of Light from entering my world. God had little option but to bring something to break through the thousand layers of resistance. And thus, God = dog.

Chi arrived a little damaged as well. We understood each other, despite his peeing on my blanket. If he made the wrong move and sensed he’d displeased us, he’d cringe and hide. It took a while to coax Chi out of his darkness…. And, over time, I found myself being coaxed out of my darkness as well. Occasionally I’d get in a space where I would not want any attention from anyone, human or canine. Chi would stubbornly insist on coming wherever I was at those moments. When I would allow him next to me at those times, we would both benefit.

Eventually, looking back, I had to ask whom was healing whom. For a while I resented “life energy” being present. It was infinitely easier remaining in my comfortable husk of a life. Inevitably, just as the Tao te Ching says, the repeated presence and love of Yin wore its way through the rocks blocking the river of my heart. If it was so with the Grand Canyon, then it’s definitely so with lesser rock structures like the human heart.

To end our time today, I would ask you this question: What makes you come alive?

Now, go do it.

comealive

Blogger’s note: While there is some question of the attribution of this quote to Howard Thurman, it would appear the quote did occur in conversation with Thurman. Thus, I am using it.

There are many mornings I look at Chi, and I wonder how he can sleep so soundly. Safe home? Of course. Snuggly place underneath someone’s arm? Sure. And yet, when I look at the sleeping Chi, I see a deep peace.

No, it’s not the peace of someone who doesn’t want to wake up, like most of us two minutes before the alarm goes off. This is qualitatively different. When I went to wake him this morning, his eye fluttered open, and then shut again. Grunt, deeeep stretch. And Chi rolled over, seeking someone to pet him. He was in sleep heaven.

Chi also likes to snuggle with me on work mornings. We have repeated discussions about this. I tell him how humans don’t live by pug rules and that we have to get up and run everywhere. Chi looks at me as if to say, “Why? There’s no hurry. You need to slooow down.”

Pug wisdom is not always easy wisdom. And so I get up,  rush off to work, shake the sleep out of my eyes, and immerse myself in human work for 8 or sometimes 9 hours. And then when I return home, Chi comes wagging his curly tail as if to say, “Let’s get on with things!”

And then, before too much time has passed, the snores of a happy pug are heard again throughout the living room. I think I’ll meditate with him tonight.

Snug as a pug in a rug

Dogs would make totally incompetent criminals.  — Dave Barry

I made an allusion earlier to one of the most persistent myths about dogs.

“Dogs love you unconditionally.”

Dogs love you unconditionally as long as you give them stuff.

Chi has two sisters, Cara and Mara. They are Manchester Terriers.

This morning, Cara was demonstrating her unconditional love, cuddling, giving puppy kisses, everything human owners like to get. I knew I had to go to work, and so I whispered to her that it was time to go, and sat up. Cara obediently and adorably jumped down to the floor. Her tail wagged and thumped the ground. She grunted and barked, trying to hurry me along. Suddenly Mara joined her, and Chi went and stood in front of the kennel they call home when their humans are at work. It was 20 minutes before I had to leave, but that didn’t matter. They heard me say it was time to go. Now, they said, we want to go into our kennel!

I looked at them and said, “Are you sure?” Cara shook all over and barked. Mara noses me out of the way as I unlatched the kennel and moves her way inside, followed close behind by Cara. After the two of them clamber in, Chi trots in. “OK,” I said. How touching, these obedient little sweet creatures. I am blessed.

I went about getting ready, doing all the little last minute chores a morning brings. With every passing minute, the thumps and sighs from the kennel grew louder. After about five minutes, Cara could no longer contain herself and let out a low yip. It didn’t take long for the others to join in. The din grew and officially became a cacophony.

Here’s the hidden agenda of the dear puppies: every morning, these dogs get a treat. It’s a good bye ritual for the day. It was time for their treat. They were telling me it was time for me to go… and get them their treat. And so, the trio sat in their kennel getting more incensed by the moment — and no treat!

Hence, Chi’s third lesson. Don’t let your sisters con you into crazy schemes.

Image