While Petunia was out, they also looked down her trachea with a scope and discovered that she had everted laryngeal saccules. Basically little bulgy things that make it hard to breathe. They removed those, and we’re hoping that as the swelling goes down, she’ll breathe easier and better. So far, it seems the same, but she’s on so many drugs and in so much pain, who knows.

She howled most of last night, I hand fed her and she howled while I fed her! Never seen a dog manage that before. She’s quiet if I hold her or pet her, but with four other dogs and a toddler, I simply can’t just sit with her. So, I do the best I can. She’s on lots of pain meds, antibiotics, and eye drops. Three times a day, so it’s a project. She’s confused by the cone, and keeps getting stuck, she’ll walk into a wall, get the cone stuck against it, and not be able to figure out how to move, so I’ve rescued her a dozen times today at least. I tried keeping her safely in an xpen, and she howled and thrashed. So, I let her follow me around the house.

We’re grateful that she survived surgery, and that the outcome was good. I’m thankful for everyone’s support and positive energy. I will be bringing Petunia to the Pug Party on Saturday in Del Mar, so if you want to visit her, she’ll be riding in a pink stroller and wearing a cone decorated with flowers!

She’s in her crate now, finally asleep, and propped up on lots of fluffy pillows. She loves her crate, and often won’t settle at night until I put her to bed. That said, I’d like to see my bed now, too, so goodnight! Will post pathetic pug pics tomorrow. Poor little dog. Anesthesia was no fun.

The first thing I did was give her a bath. Sick or not, I’m not having a dirty, smelly dog in the house. Ick. I scrubbed tons of hair off that dog, and she just stood patiently through all of it. The next day I took her to the vet. Oh, hey, she’s got kennel cough! Oh, no, her heart sounds great! No problems there! The falling? Not bad hips like I had thought, but a neurological problem with her spine. She drags her back feet and can’t really wag her tail, but it doesn’t cause her pain and she gets around ok. Once she was done with her meds for kennel cough, and didn’t quite sound like she was dying every five seconds, they scheduled her to get her teeth cleaned and have that mass removed from her mouth. They cleaned her teeth, pulled nine rotten ones which did wonders for her breath, removed the mass, and repaired her palate, which was causing quite a bit of her breathing difficulty.

I was fostering another younger dog, Pebbles, when I first got Petunia, so I kind of let them hang out together in the backyard. They were pretty good pals, and I didn’t want to get too attached to anyone since they were both leaving soon. Which Pebbles did, found a lovely home by the beach, lucky girl. Petunia? Well, Petunia is still here, months later.

After Pebbles got adopted, I kind of felt bad putting Petunia out by herself, so I decided to try to work her into “general population” with my dogs. She gets along, and really, I don’t think she cares a bit about any of them. Seems like she was going to be here for the long haul, since folks weren’t lining up to adopt her, so might as well make the best of it, hey?

Here’s the thing about Petunia. She’s not a pretty dog. Wall eyed and with crooked ears, oh dear, no one was ever going to call her cute, and even attractive is a stretch. She makes a LOT of hideous gaspy, gaggy, gross noises. She farts whenever I pick her up. She falls down a lot. She follows me around and I’ve nearly killed myself more than once trying to fancy dance and not step on her. She can’t hear much, and she spends a lot of time just staring into space. She stops breathing on a regular basis. I’m talking like half a dozen times in an evening. She’ll be laying on a dog bed, go silent, we look over and she’ll throw her head back and gasp, and start up again. Someday, she’s going to forget to breathe. Literally. We are kind of used to it, and I don’t think there is anything that can be done about it. But I give her pillows to prop her head on so her trachea can stay open. I do not spoil her one bit. I am so in love with this dog it is ridiculous. She is about as useful as a box of rocks and I adore her.

Petunia has been here since the 6th of August. She has slowly worked her way into the fabric of the family. We go to the Pug Rescue events and Josh pushes Quinn in her stroller and I push Petunia in her fancy pink stroller. Everyone always fawns over Petunia and barely looks at my child. It is a dog event after all. Petunia climbs onto the dog beds with Jester and snuggles up next to him. If you know Jester you’ll know he is disgusted by other dogs, and cuddling, but he grudgingly puts up with Petunia. Petunia lives in a oblivious world sometimes, it’s kind of funny. Quinn LOVES Petunia, and hugs her and pats her and pulls her around. Petunia just looks rather pained and puts up with it.

I think I fell in love with Petunia when I was out back in that yard with Quinn in her swimming pool, and I was sitting next to it on the ground. Petunia came up and sat down as close to me as she could get, and leaned on me and rubbed her face on my arm. Oh, well, then. This dog is not so bad I guess. Ever so slowly, Petunia started getting the same freedoms and house privileges as my dogs. Going everywhere in the car, hanging out in the living room at night, following me into the bathroom while I shower. Petunia loves to sit next to me while I dry my hair. She is not afraid, maybe can barely hear the blow dryer. She follows me around, shuffling her little feet and slipping and sliding on the floors. We tried putting her on the bed to see if she’d lay down with the other dogs while I vacuumed. Er, let’s just say Petunia flies rather well and luckily landed on a soft dog bed. We don’t put her on the bed anymore.

At the Pug Rescue holiday party, someone came up and had come specifically to meet Petunia and was interested in adopting her. After I went to Suzi and bawled for a minute, I got over myself and reminded myself she is a foster dog after all. And, lovely family, they would have been perfect, and I realized I would have been ok with them adopting her. It would have been hard, but I’d have let her go. That family found another pug, a better fit for their home, and in the months that followed, a few people called me interested in my Petunia. I wasn’t too excited about any of them. Really, if you’re going to adopt Petunia, you need to be able to give her a better life than she has here, and she’s got it pretty good.

Two weeks ago, someone called that was interested in her. Everything sounded good, seemed like a good fit, so I bravely let Petunia be adopted. The look on her face, the look of confusion when they put her in the car shattered my heart. I didn’t cry, telling myself this is good, this is right. Until the next day when I started bawling because I missed my little dog so much. Josh even brought me petunias to plant in the yard, in honor of her.

As you might already know, things in the house did not work out. One person in the family loved Petunia, the the rest did not love her so much. Because she is not cute, she is not quick, she doesn’t walk well, and she does require a lot of assistance to get through the day. So she came back, and I have to say, I was pretty happy. Quinn was ecstatic and squealed and gave Petunia tons of hugs. It has taken a few days for Petunia to settle back in, she was pretty depressed when I picked her up. I think she missed us. She did not do her happy dance when she saw me, which crushed me. She did perk up a bit when we got home and she saw the other dogs and Quinn. Now she’s back to following me around trying to kill me via tripping.

The thing with Petunia is I just love her. My other dogs work, they do sports, they earn a living by being demo dogs, and helping me teach group classes and private lessons. They have all paid their way in one way or another. Petunia? Petunia is a complete freeloader. She does nothing. Some days she responds to her name, others she can’t hear a thing. She snatches food, and will bite your hand if she thinks you have something food like in it. I don’t do anything with her but carry her around, dress her in embarrassing outfits, and pet her. She requires nothing from me except that I remember to feed her twice a day. She’s grateful when I do pet her, and enjoys hanging out on my lap while I type. Petunia and Quinn have a complete love affair, which makes my heart cramp every time I see them together.

Petunia has helped teach me why normal people have dogs. Just to love them. She is utterly, and completely useless. She doesn’t play, she doesn’t do obedience, she’ll never be a demo dog, hell, she doesn’t even walk on a leash. But she loves me. Just because. I don’t even know why.

She’s back now, maybe to stay, maybe not. I know that this is her home, and that we are her heart, but the unfortunate reality is that I have four dogs who are all hitting geriatric status this year. Four old dogs who are all going to start racking up vet bills together and need their butts wiped, together, or some other fabulously gross thing. I really, really can’t afford to add another senior dog with known health issues to the mix. I just can’t. So Petunia will remain adoptable, and a ward of Pug Rescue. Hopefully people will just donate tons of money in her name and she’ll just have a nice, fat medical fund so she can live out her days here. I will be pickier, and demand that those interested in her come and meet her several times, get to know her before moving her again. Because I don’t want to see that confused look on her face again. For now, I will enjoy every day that she is here, and do everything I can do make her days full of love, cuddles, and give her tons of kisses. Smelly old dog.

Because I just love her.

After conferring with Suzi and the doctors who had worked so hard to make Hazel comfortable, we all decided that the kindest thing to do was to let her go. Even after the swelling from surgery was down, Hazel has been breathing like this all of her life, which has caused irreparable damage to her larynx. So our options were to keep her heavily sedated so she could breathe, which is no way for a perky little dog to live; do a tracheotomy, which she likely wouldn’t survive; or euthanize her.

It was very, very difficult, and my heart hurts, but I feel that euthanizing her was the kindest thing. We tried every trick in the book, short of more surgeries that her little body just couldn’t take, and the poor girl was still just gasping for air and exhausted by the effort. Today, even heavily sedated, she was still wheezing and unable to draw a full breath. I couldn’t do that to her anymore.

I am saddest that someone let her be this way for so long. A simple surgery as a pup would have fixed this and saved her many years of misery. We think perhaps she was a younger dog, but that her body was just so worn out from never having enough oxygen and the constant fight for breath. I am sad that someone out there abandoned this little dog. That, to them, she wasn’t worth the effort.

She was absolutely worth the effort to us. I held her and cuddled her and told her how many people loved her. I covered her face with kisses and told her she was a good dog. That she was worth the effort. I told her to look for my beloved Redwood and Rowan on the other side, that they would look out for her until I come to get them.

Rest easy Hazel. Goodbye little friend.

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Please consider making a donation in Hazel’s honor to Pug Rescue of San Diego. The money will go to help pay her vet bills, and the many, many vet bills incurred helping all of our senior dogs. They are worth it.

I had emailed Suzi saying that after a year off of fostering so I could get my human baby into the world and started off right, I was ready to foster again, and would really like to take on a senior. That maybe we would be ok with a long term foster, as long as we could open our home to a girl so we wouldn’t have any more pissing wars with the resident male dogs in the house (brats). Maybe a little girl, I do love those tiny Pugs, a petite lady who just needs a place to lay her head for a bit, and perhaps enjoy her golden years lounging in the sun and living in a house that is made up primarily of comfy dog beds.

Never one to leave a foster home wanting for long, I got a reply from Suzi within 24 hours. “Have I got the dog for you! She’s tiny, and sweet, and if her many surgeries go well, she’ll need quite a bit of care.” I kind of already knew I’d take her, but went to Cuyamaca anyway to meet her. Formalities, you know. I got to meet her before her surgeries, and of course I fell in love. She’s perfect. She is completely calm with my human child, and she’s giving me kisses and leaning into my hand as I scratch her ear. Of course I’ll be her foster Mom, we’ll figure it out. It’ll all be fine.

Someone at the shelter had named her Ethel, and while that’s a fine name, I felt like she needed something with a bit more strength. Something that worked into my household better. I have a long line of beloved dogs named after trees, and even more pets named after flowers and crystals. So of course, for her, I looked to the trees. I wanted something strong, but suitable for a sweet little lady. Maple? Clover? Aspen? No, no Aspen is more of a Golden Retriever. Hmm. Bramble? Nope, too hard to say. Bamboo? Hazel? Ooh, wait, Hazel. I like it. Even better, it has some great symbolism – wands made out of Hazel wood symbolize white magic and healing. Yes, yes, she needs that. Hazel trees themselves symbolize hidden wisdom, and over the centuries Hazel wood was used for protection against evil. I like it, Hazel she will be. It fits. It’s soft, with just a bit of an edge, perfect.

As I write this, my little Hazel is back at the vet, in the emergency center getting oxygen and fluids. I did get to bring her home after her surgeries – a hernia repair, spay, and fixing her elongated palate, but she was still having such a hard time breathing that she needed the extra help. The surgery on her palate caused some swelling, as surgeries will, but that makes it hard to breathe, so she breathes harder, which makes it swell more and causes irritation. Sweet little Hazel has been a trooper, and only today seemed to be very fatigued from all the work breathing. Not to worry, her prognosis is good. We just need to give her some time to rest, heal from the surgery, and then she should be able to breathe comfortably, perhaps for the first time in her life. I look forward to Hazel feeling better. In the two days she has been here, she’s shown herself to be a sweet, snuggly girl. Happy to see me, gets along great with my other dogs, is fantastic with the human baby (and she’s rather a pain, what with all the poking and squealing), and is just a lovely, lovely little Pug.

I think that once she feels better, I think maybe she’ll be adoptable. She’s just got so much pep, even exhausted today she twirled around on her back feet with excitement when she saw a leash. What a love! I think that she has years left, and I think that she may move on to a forever home. I’m ok with that. I think that someone else may get to love her too. Of course, she is welcome to stay here as long as she needs to, and I will cuddle her and love her and care for her as my own. And if she stays here for a very long time, because you know how hard it is to find forever homes for seniors, that’s ok too.

Hazel is what Pug Rescue is about. So many senior dogs. They need us because they are the ones who get left behind. The ones who don’t get adopted because they are “too old”, “too sick”, or “too needy”. I can’t imagine that little Hazel was in the shelter so long and no one noticed what a gem she was. How could you miss that happy little curly tail, those sparkly little eyes? I am ever so grateful for all the volunteers that got her here from L.A., and all of the work that goes into fundraising so that Hazel could have her surgeries, and so that she could be cared for tonight. The thing that amazes me is that her story is one of many. That we, as a group, help SO MANY Pugs. I for one, thank you all, I am proud to be a member of Pug Rescue, and I am thrilled to get to foster such a lovely girl. I’m sad for whatever circumstances in Hazel’s life left her without a home or people of her own, but I’m glad that she found her way into our hands. Because she’s safe now. She couldn’t have ended up with a better group of people to tend to her. I’ve worked with many different rescues, and Pug Rescue of San Diego is snorts and wags above the rest!

Thank you all so very much. I’ll keep you updated on Hazel’s progress. Perhaps Hazel will be able to meet you all at the Pugtoberfest. Looking forward to showing off my sweet little friend.

Mom is at work, so I’m here alone with this freak show. They are, exuberant, to say the least. My dogs are giddy with the freedom of the dog door and have been racing in and out all day long. My Mom’s older dogs, JB and Piper mostly slept on the couches, but her puppy, dear heavens that puppy. Simi is busy. Very very busy. He’s in, he’s out, he’s in my face, he’s on the bed, he’s bringing me q-tips, he’s back outside. Holy crap.

I was checking email this morning and he brought me a q-tip. At least he brings them to you. Then I get up, and discover that he’s brought dirt clods in the house and strung them all over the hallway. I get the vacuum to clean that up, and the door bell rings. I’m sorry, all the training in the world isn’t keeping seven dogs quiet when the door bell rings. They go nuts, I go out to get my box. I come back in to put the baby down and Simi bolts out the door to say hi to the nice FedEx lady, who thank dawg, was nice and stopped so he could maul her with kisses and I could catch him. Cause Simi comes to Mom, but not so much to me. So here I am, baby in one arm, 20 lbs of pug puppy in the other trying to figure out how to get in the door. I was winded. Fatties, both of them.

Finally I get the hall vacuumed, and I call Mom to complain about her beast, look down and there is a trail of q-tips from the bedroom door to the bathroom – when did he have time to do THAT? And Simi is on Mom’s bed with dirt everywhere and a bone he pilfered from my room downstairs. I swear, he was JUST outside with that bone not two minutes ago. Busy, busy, busy.

I gave up and shut all the doors, thinking I could keep an eye on him better than way. But he’s good. Slick, that one. Not really bad though, just busy. He and Teak have teamed up and are racing around the house together, in and out the door, up over couches and tables. We are agility pugs, we are. Tables are no reason to stop. The baby was cracking up at them racing around, which made me crack up, cause how cool is it that she’s thinks dogs playing is funny?

Dyson has been suspiciously absent most of the day, hunting bunnies I suppose. Remember last year when he pulled boards up off the deck because he got in trouble for digging to get to the bunnies? Ya, that was fun. I’m afraid to go outside.

Mom came home for lunch, and everyone raced in to say hello, I heard Dyson crawling through the dog door, which was built for 20lb dogs mind you – he’s 100. His head barely fits through, I’m not really sure what gymnastics he performs to get through the dog door, but he’s doing it regularly. Mom starts laughing, says “Look at your dog” and I turn and the poor dog door has given up the fight. The entire door has come out of the wall and is stuck around Dyon’s middle. Seriously, if my Dad were here, he’d kill us both. Me and Dyson that is. It was funny. But dear lord, animal, seriously?

They are finally, finally all worn out and lined up on the couches sleeping. There is a lot of snoring going on, and while I’d love to get a picture of it for you, if I move, the moment will be ruined. Karma and Piper are sleeping on one couch, and the rest of the pugs and Dyson are lined up on the other like little doggie dominoes. Poor Simi looks absolutely exhausted. He’s been busy, you know.

So I just ripped off the band aid last weekend while Daddy was home to video her first try of baby food. It was priceless. So funny. She likes sweet potatoes and today we tried bananas. Bananas were not a hit. She made the most disgusted face and let it fall off her tongue. I thought I was going to die laughing. I sort of feel that way about bananas too.

Further proof that this is my child, she LOVES the dogs. Her new thing is to bury her face in their fur, which is freaking adorable.

Karma, Teak and Dyson all seem to really enjoy the baby, Jester is still wondering when she’s going home to her real Mommy. Sorry little man, she’s here to stay. I’m sure once she can throw cheerios, Jester will be a bigger fan.

Dogs are doing well in obedience, Teak is actually making huge strides. She can take treat CALMLY. I know, crazy, huh? Jester is doing pretty good, and Karma busted out with some super fabulous heeling the other day. I did not teach her that, she spent the weekend with Lynnea and had a few revelations. Dyson is, well, Dyson.

Life with a baby is hectic, she’s started teething which has been not fun for anyone. I feel for her, I really do, but Mommy needs a drink or ten. She’s playing with toys more, which is fun. This means I’m also playing with toys more, good thing I have a good imagination. Often she just plays herself to sleep – ok, it only happened these three times and it was so cute I took a picture of it. The one in the middle, she fell asleep in Daddy’s arms watching the iTunes visualizer program. She loves the lights. Often that is the only thing that will calm her down.

That’s it for now, I have a lot more to say on a lot of subjects, but she needs me more than you do right now. Later!

Here’s the thing. I’m going to tell you a secret. A dirty one. My dogs? Ya, well, they aren’t really what I would call “trained”. They are simply very good at following cookies around. And I am very good at leading them.

I have actually trained dogs. Lots of dogs. To do useful things. Just not mine. Because they have always been good enough. They could pull off a demo, help me teach a class, and were moderately reasonable house pets. Now that I have time on my hands though, not working, the baby is getting to be more willing to do stuff with me rather than nurse 27 hours a day; I decided that perhaps I would enter my pugs in some obedience competitions. Pffbt. Well. There is this small problem. They haven’t actually ever been trained for obedience competitions. Hunh. Who knew?

Teak is a disaster. She is great at her flyball game, and loves to play agility (by her own rules, not anyone else’s), and she a great little demo dog. As long as I have a handful of cookies. Ask her to hold a sit, quietly, without busting a brain gasket because THERE ARE COOKIES IN HER HAND? Um, no. Shewouldliketodoitallveryfastrightnowpleasecouldyouhurryupabit? She gets so overspun that she just can’t think. She just wants to jump! and go! somewhere! anywhere! fast!!

Karma is another disaster. Karma knows very well the things she learned the first two years of her life. Those things she learned early on are cemented in her little collie brain. After that, her processor shut down and refused any new input. No kidding, when I try to teach her something new, she cries and slinks like she’s getting beaten. With the cookies. Yes, I beat her with the cookies, because that makes sense. Her brain smokes. And then the circuits fry and it’s over. I kind of gave up, because she’s Josh’s dog, he should train her, and really, of all the dogs she listens the best. She’s easy, doesn’t run off, doesn’t eat other dogs, and will lay down the instant the command comes out of your mouth. So really? I don’t care if she never learns anything new. I just wanted her to have some fun. But judging from the whining, training isn’t very fun for her, so whatever. Have a free cookie dog, and go get your ball.

Dyson. *sigh* Dyson is exceptionally gifted at games where he gets to do the thinking. Detection work? The dog is a genius. Tracking? Spectacular. Service dog for mildly cracked owner? Brilliant. Doing things which require him to respond quickly and accurately to an actual command? Dismal failure. I like to tell people it’s because we work better together as a team, that he’s better at thinking on his feet. Really? Reeeally??? It’s because he’s a bull headed, stubborn bastard and I don’t feel like fighting with him. I really would rather work WITH him, I hate trying to get him to work for me. Even for something as simply as “Lie Down you large, unruly, begging animal” he makes four circles around the living room to find the appropriate spot. He won’t just LIE DOWN. Luckily, he’s generally a good dog, at least around the house.

Jester, strangely, is about the best of the bunch when it comes to actual obedience training. (He’s definitely the most rotten house dog though, trash can raiding, cat box filching little scrounger) He’s much more methodical than Teak, and apparently somewhere along the way over the years, I have put quite a bit of actual, real live training into him. He is less frantic about everything, knows most of the obedience drills already, and other than being a rickety old man lacking a bit of enthusiasm (cause he’s tired and where are the blankets already?), he does pretty darn good. I guess, somehow I either actually trained him, or he learned some things by osmosis.

And all of this? All of these pretty words about why my dogs do and don’t do things? Excuses. All of it. Lame excuses for why I haven’t ever actually trained my dogs. Maybe I was busy training other people’s dogs. Maybe I haven’t done a thing with them for the past year and a half because I’ve been busy gestating, being hormonal and all that. Maybe….

Or maybe I’m not that good at really training dogs. Maybe I’ve just learned how to get them so far, and I don’t really know what the next step is. Maybe while all my friends were training, competing, trialing, and pushing their own dogs to the next level – maybe I was too busy trying to make money and running a business and I never learned how to push my own dogs further. Maybe I have always had some excuse – “Well, this dog can’t do that.” “I don’t have the money.” “I don’t have the time.” “Some day when I get this super deluxe puppy, then I can play that game.”

Or maybe, just maybe, all along I’ve been so afraid of failing, of my skills and my dogs not being good enough, that I never really tried. Guess we’ll see, won’t we?

Lovely lady came over today, at a bright and shiny 9 am(!), and we played baby games all morning. Of course, 9 am would normally be nap time, we scheduled this so we could get some shots of the Q sleeping. There was no sleeping. Because there was *a camera* and *people*, so instead, little Miss Q mugged, and grinned and made with the cute. She’s good at that. We got some absolutely adorable shots, talented photographer and adorable subject. But the fun doesn’t stop there.

We decided to take some pics with the dogs, so I got the pugs out and put them on the blanket with the baby. They amped around and acted like idiots for a few minutes, but settled down and posed quite nicely. Feeling pretty pleased with myself – cute kid, dogs being moderately sane; I decided to let Dyson out to say hello after I put the pugs back. Poor sad dogs had been in their room all morning since we were playing on the floor with sensitive camera equipment, and you know, a baby that could get trompled. Dyson, in particular, has a mental breakdown when he has to be away from me, so it seemed like he could come out and lay down in a corner somewhere. Right? Sure…..

So, goofball comes out, parades around with his toy like a fool, and I tell him to lay on his bed. Poor, unsuspecting, nice, lovely lady photographer kneels down and asks if she can say hi. Sure, knock yourself out. Dyson gets up and walks over to her, STARTS PISSING AS HE’S WALKING, and manages to completely soak this woman’s clothes. Dear heavens, floor, please swallow me up. My dog just pissed all over the photographer. Kill me now.

Luckily, she thought it was hysterical, got a great story out of it, and I happened to have a brand new pair of jeans that fit her so I washed her pants while we finished the photo shoot. I will be utterly amazed if that woman ever works anywhere near a dog again. Let’s all just say a little prayer of thanks, to whomever you pray to, that Dyson did not piss on her camera – cause I’m pretty sure you can’t throw those in the wash.

Just this past weekend we took Quinn, and all the dogs, and the cat(!) up to northern California to visit Josh’s side of the family. We rented an RV, hee hee, that was fun. Amazingly, the dogs were really good, Quinn was very flexible and charmed everyone she met with smiles and squeaks, and even the cat was well behaved. A bit chaotic, but not anything we are not used to.

Yesterday Teak and Jester both had dentals done, drugged pugs are entertaining to say the least. Other than my stress levels shooting sky high – I always panic when any of my dogs has to be anesthetized – everything went fine. Bonus pics of pugs high on pain meds.

Those were some pretty sad little animals. Jester is just getting more and more pathetic in his old age, and that mixed with heavy drugs just made him sad. He needed to be carried, and the blanket must be adjusted just so, no, not like that, fix it woman, ok, that’s better. I know I created a monster with both of the pugs really, but Jester is taking persnickety to a whole new level. I don’t care though, the dog is 11 years old, he can have whatever he wants. I just have the excuse now that he’s old. He’s always had whatever he wants. Cause he’s Jester. Teak handled the anesthesia a little better, but she’s younger, didn’t have as many teeth pulled, all that good stuff. She’s back on being a maniac already today.

Those are the highlights of the last month and a half – I will try to do better at keeping this updated for those of you that follow along. And if you commented (hint, hint) and it didn’t get posted, it’s because my comments have been totally spammed and full of garbage. Josh is going to fix it, just hasn’t gotten around to it. But don’t let that stop you!!
I will leave you with this final, tragic pug picture and say have a lovely weekend!