Nom de Plume

I decided that Harry needed his usual late-night jaunt around Seward Park with Elizabeth and Koya. If he got tired, I reasoned, I would carry him — but I thought it important that he get out and do the dogly things he loves.

So last night, we set off. Harry was perky-tailed and happy the entire walk. I picked him up a couple times to give him a break, but he struggled out of my arms. He loved it.

We have a morning routine. I pull him into bed when Steve gets up. When S comes out of the shower, Harry rushes to the end of the bed and barks. Steve plays with him, Harry barks some more, Steve plays some more and everyone is happy. Harry has been too down to do this recently. But this morning, he was back at it.

So I have a happy little puglet. And that makes me a happy puglet owner.

Ever since I got Harry, he’s been a bit unsteady on his feet. At first, I thought it was because he was a puppy and puppies are naturally tippy. Then he hit about a year, and I really started noticing that he wasn’t as coordinated as other pugs the same age. I talked to my vet, there was nothing much to do because he’s always been a happy little guy, and it never really made a difference in his activity levels or quality of life. We just assumed he might have some brain damage from his early puppy abuse.

Yesterday, he slept in really late. We finally got him up, and his legs just gave out from under him. He couldn’t stand, his tail was droopy, he looked miserable, wouldn’t eat. I rushed him to the emergency vet. The e-vet thought it might be toxicity. Bloodwork fine, x-rays fine. Got a cortisone shot. The e-vet said he was walking a bit last night when I called, but when I picked him up this morning, he looked worse. Again, couldn’t stand. I took him to my regular vet who said it was definitely neurological. He referred me to a neurologist in Tacoma. By the time we got there mid-morning (Elizabeth went with me for support), Harry could stand and walk, but was still very unsteady and droopy tailed. He slept the entire way there, and he was very disoriented.

The neurologist assessed him. The problems seem to be on his right side: decreased reactions, no facial sensation or menace reaction on the right side. Then there’s some other stuff I don’t understand. Based on that, he said that it was either PDE or hydrocephalus. (The discharge summary also says “other inflammatory, degenerative disease.�)

I didn’t get an MRI done, though there is that as an option. I asked whether doing an MRI was worth it, and they said it would determine which it was — but as the treatment for either is the same, it might be worthwhile to give prednisone a chance first. Don’t get me wrong: I am more than happy to spend the money if there’s a possibility that it will make a difference. But they were very clear that he is not going to get better. I’m conflicted on the MRI, to tell you the truth. I read something online about a shunt if it’s hydrocephalus, but I need to call the vet tomorrow and ask about it.

Now that I look back on it, the signs are there. One of the symptoms of PDE is not jumping on or off things anymore–and he hasn’t been jumping off the bed for weeks, instead waiting for me to lift him off. I had assumed it was due to the new, higher frame, but perhaps not. He’s been getting more clumsy too. As the vet said, dogs can compensate for a lot, and for a long time. Then they really degenerate and can no longer compensate. In my mind, the real problem is that one’s standard of normal changes.

Harry’s home now, limping and shuffling around. I went to the store and bought hamburger to roll his pills into, and a huge new stash of plush squeaky toys. He’s getting steaks for dinner, pig ears for lunch, plush toys all the time, and lots and lots of love.

Harry has been diagnosed as either having pug encephalitis or hydrocephalus, both of which cause neurological problems and are degenerative diseases. His legs gave out yesterday; he couldn’t stand. He’s on prednisone right now and is doing a little better, but is still very wobbly. I’m too upset to write any more.

I was on the Seattle Pugs rescue site last night, and was so upset by what’s on the home page that I hauled Harry out from under the desk to snuggle with him.

In their words:

How could a person in their right mind let this happen? The owner of a puppy mill did this to this pug and many other helpless dogs in her care.

SEATTLE PUG RESCUE HELPS DOGS LIKE THIS AND MANY OTHERS.

This is our newest foster pug, Petunia. This 4-5 year-old female was just rescued from a puppy mill. She was on her last legs! Used extensively as a brood bitch for numerous litters, her injuries included a broken jaw that remained untreated for at least 9 months, mange, malnutrition, and open sores. She was left in a chicken cage with her fossilized puppies.

Since being picked up by a good samaritan and delivered to Seattle Pug Rescue, this sweet darling pug’s tail has not stopped wagging. She knows she is safe now, and will be taken care of.

Her recovery will be long and costly. Please donate to help pay for her care, and other pugs that need your help as well.

Thank you
Cathy Moore
Chairman, Seattle Pug Rescue

Update 7/27/05: Petunia is at Norton’s Ark Clinic being nursed gently back to health. She is already much happier, and eating better.

If you’d like to donate to the cause, more details are available here.

Seattle Pugs Rescue

Steve and the outlaws took off for Vashon Island about an hour ago. I stayed behind because Harry needs to go to the vet. I will spare you the gory details, except to say that pugs get swollen anal sacs. Yeaachh. It’s overcast and cool, with a slight hint of autumn in the air. I would ordinarily be thrilled at the onset of my favorite season–but my tomatoes have not yet ripened. These are the heirloom varieties I started from seed and managed to keep alive, so you can imagine that I want to at least taste the fruits of my labors.

Speaking of gardening matters, our neighbor has just ripped out everything in the yard except the trees. The last owner of the house was a little old lady who had lived there for 40-odd years (we never met her; she passed away right before we moved in) and it was obvious the garden was her pride and joy. Actually, it was the best thing about the house. And now it’s all gone, being replaced with fresh rolls of sod as we speak.

Come to think of it, we seem to be surrounded by garden ripper-outers. Our new neighbors two houses up just pulled out all the organic vegetable beds that came with the house. “We just don’t have time to take care of them,” she explained guiltily. Fair enough. And though the previous owner may disagree, the loss of that garden wasn’t nearly as heartrending as seeing an entire truck bed overflowing with plants collected over nearly half a century.

We’re meandering down the Oregon coast into Northern California next week, and Nicki, Willie’s mother, has generously offered to take Harry. Lest anyone think that a pug is not a pain in the derriere, I am posting full instructions for his care and feeding next week.

1) Harry is fully committed to maintaining his portly figure. To that end, he gets a half cup of doggy food twice daily–once in the morning and once in the evening.

2) Harry likes to eat disgusting things, most notably cat poop. Unfortunately, his nose is so close to everything on the rest of his face that things get stuck in his face folds. A Q-tip soaked in his special face fold oil (rice bran oil, lavender and tee tree essential oils) gets the gunk out. I usually do this every few days, but you may want to omit this entirely. He hates it. In fact, the moment he sees me wield a Q-tip, he scoots himself under the nearest table as fast as his six-inch legs will carry him. Ditto the nail clippers.

3) Pugs are needy little bundles of fluff. Harry will sit by the side of your bed every morning until you pull him up and snuggle with him. You can ignore him, but the guilt may get to you. He’s very good at looking truly pathetic and abused. He also likes to be under your feet at any given point in the day or night, which is a bit of a hazard.

4) Speaking of fluff, Harry sheds more hair than an army recruit getting his first buzz cut. And it’s white, so you may want to avoid wearing black for the next week.

5) Ear plugs are a must if you are sensitive to snoring. It never ceases to amaze me that a 20 pound dog can produce more snore for the buck than a 220-pound man. You can actually have some fun with this one; If you put a bit of pressure on his head, the snores get louder. It’s kind of like making music out of crystal glasses with varying levels of water.

6) Finally, have fun! And thank you …

The only thing funnier looking than a pug is two of them. Harry has a new friend. His name is Monty.

Actually, this picture is very deceptive.

Monty is a stud pug, and Harry is, well, Harry’s a special child. (In all seriousness, I think he has brain damage from his previous owner, who punched him in the face.) Jennifer, Monty’s mom, is holding him down so Harry can attack and pretend he’s ferocious too.

Left the house in the middle of a huge thunderstorm last night to see the latest Star Wars–two and a half hours of watching Annikin move over the the dark side. Actually, it was rather anti-climactic and Annikin, IMHO, shouldn’t have been made a master by dint of his being an airhead. Still, he smoldered convincingly.

But much more than the movie, I have been happily entertained all day with the realization that Harry looks EXACTLY like Yoda. Die him green and he’s good to go.

He too is slowly coming to the same enlightenment:

“Pug, I am.”

“Jedi, I could be.”

“Halloween, dress up I will!!”

A burning question, I know.

This is Steve’s first attempt at making beer. I suggested calling it Pug Pilsner, but he looked down his nose at me and loftily explained that it was a bitter.

I have become a weird pug person: I have more pictures of the dog than of my boyfriend; when people ask how I am, they extend their question to the dog; I am currently worried that he is cold outside (it was sunny when I left, cold when I got to work).

Imagine my relief, therefore, when I found out that I am not alone.