Best Dog in the World

Once upon a time, a man found a little dog running around his jobsite. He was a bit skiddish, but seemed hungry and was friendly once the man fed him some of his poptart. The next day, the little dog was still there, looking for more poptart. The man took the little dog home. This was our Pugsley.

We are guessing that Pugsley was dumped. He had been through some trauma, and our vet thought it looked like he had been hit by a car. His back leg had been very badly broken so that one of the joints no longer moved, and one of his front paws was missing a couple of toes. He had scarring on his side consistent with a run-in with concrete. We watched for signs or ads looking for a lost dog and found none, so we adopted him as our own.



This sweet little dog, a Boston Terrier, stole our hearts. He was the biggest lover, and wanted nothing more than to be close to us, sitting on our laps or just leaning up against us when he could. He was, in my opinion, the perfect dog - he didn't bark, drool, chew on anything, get in the garbage - hell, he didn't even shed. He did, however, fart and snore. Once we figured out the right food to feed him, however, the flatulence problem subsided. Feed him the wrong thing, though, and that little dog can clear a room!

Anyway, a few years ago Pugsleys eye's started looking a little cloudy, and the vet said that he was forming cataracts. After a year or so, he was blind. He was still a happy boy, though, and figured out how to find his way around without bumping into too much. He became afraid of the stairs, though, so the pampered little pup got carried up and down the stairs when he went outside.

A while back I took Pugsley outside to go potty before bed time. I stepped back in the house for a moment, and when I went back out I knew immediately that something was wrong. I could see, in the moonlight, that Pugs was on his side laying in the yard. He was snorting in a funny way and shaking. I ran to his side and it because quickly apparent that he was having a seizure. I carried him inside and held him until it subsided. He was very disoriented and lost, and wandered around the house bumping into things, which stopped after a few minutes. It freaked me out!

I called the vet the next morning and we scheduled an appt. to bring him in. The vet looked him over and advised that he appeared to be healthy (other than the seizure, of course) and to call him if he had another one. A couple of days later he did, so I called and the vet prescribed Phenobarbital. We started giving it to him, and it made him sick, throwing up his food. He still had seizures now and then, anyway. Scrap that idea, I guess.

So, we learned to deal with his seizures. He would have them every now and then, maybe 1 or 2 times per week. We would do what we could to help him through it. Since the vet said that it most likely was not painful and he didn’t appear to be in any kind of distress otherwise, it wasn’t a huge problem.

Pugs did, however, start having a little trouble with going potty in the house within the last few weeks. Up until the night before last, however, he had not had any seizures. Wednesday night he had a really bad one. It lasted a lot longer than usual, and he was very disoriented and freaked out when he came out of it. He would not settle down and, if we'd let go of him, he would run around smacking into things. We restrained him as best we could to keep him from hurting himself, but he just wouldn't calm down. He was panting so hard like he couldn't get his breath – it was very scary. We finally had to tie him to the table leg in the kitchen with his leash and he orbited the leg panting for at least 45 minutes. Finally he laid down and went to sleep, at which point I took him off his leash.

He woke up a while later, ate his dinner as usual, went out to potty and then went to bed, the night passing without incident. He seemed fine yesterday morning, but when I went home for lunch, I could see (from the drooly spots on the carpet) that he had had at least one seizure while I was gone. I found him in the bedroom, seizing.

These last couple of seizures had been especially bad, and he had lost control of his functions, pooping all over the bedroom floor. Gah! I moved him to the bathroom & closed the door so he couldn't hurt himself, and cleaned up the bedroom. During my hour lunch, he seized at least 4 times. A sick feeling in my stomach, I had to go back to work. I hated to leave him, but it couldn't be avoided.

I returned home from work, leaving a bit early in case I'd need to take him to the vet, who closes at 5:30. When I got there, I was horrified to find that he was still seizing. I called the vet and had to leave a message, so I wrapped him in a towel and held him as he seized. At 5:28, I called the vet back, panicking. He said to bring him on in. We only live about 6 blocks away, so to the vet we went.

Still seizing, the vet looked him over and advised that, judging by the way he's acting and considering his age, he most likely had a brain tumor. There really wasn't anything he could do, so I held him and petted him as the vet put him to sleep. I was relieved a bit to see that, when given the shot, the seizing stopped and he breathed normally for a few seconds before leaving us.

We buried Pugsley in the lilly of the valley bed last night, a beautiful large granite stone for his marker. Before I committed him to the earth, I sat in the swing and held him, all bundled up in a beautiful fabric I had found for him, and it began to rain.

I sure will miss my little wiggle-butt. He was the sweetest dog. I like to think that Pod is taking care of him now. They were good buddies. Of course, Pugsley was everyone's buddy.



Oh, and Happy Earth Day.