I was born loving dogs. I had no choice simply because my grandfather, Louis, set me next to a Doberman before I could walk.
By the time I was 22, I was ready for my first dog. That was Cruiser R. Roozer, a mixed breed who may have had a bit of wolf in his DNA. He was a hunter and a roamer. He was joined by Barney, a Pyrenees mixed breed who had limited brain power. He was a cuddler and a fence jumper. Both lived long, good, happy, adventuresome lives. I didn’t stay with Roozer as he died, something I’ve regretted ever since. He and I had so many adventures, challenges, and changes in our years together, I couldn’t stomach his leaving me. I sat upstairs sobbing while the vet euthanized him. I vowed never to leave an animal alone as they passed. I kept that vow through the many cats and dogs that we loved over the years.
After Roozer and Barney came the 40 years of Newfies, a breed so awesome, powerful, stubborn, and completely loveable. And during those 40 years, other dogs snuck their way into our lives: the Shih Tzu named Ghengis, a terrified Lab-mix named Shiney, and, of course, the Grifters, a bonded pair of can’t-imagine-what-they’re-made-of.
And, then after all those wonderful furry friends passed from our lives, we were empty. Our home was quiet. There were no tell-tale signs of shedding dogs streaking the early morning sunlit floors. There was no drool on a wall. Or a ceiling. There were no black marks on wall corners where dogs use them as short cuts to the next room.
There was no barking.
No dog beds littering the apartment.
No reason to take a walk. No reason to rush home.
Just the peace and quiet of two old people living together without the benefit of something or someone to worry about.
Of course, you know what happened. Within a few days of the passing of our last Grifter, Monkey, we adopted a bonded pair of Pugs.
We knew absolutely nothing about the breed. But we quickly learned a few things:
Pug brains are divided into two sections: Lap and Food.
Pugs do not take instructions into consideration. A Newfie would. He would consider the request and then decide it was just too much effort to comply. Pugs don’t even think about it. But, if they agree, it’s quick.
Example: placing food bowls on the floor for Pug meals is impossible without them jumping on top and knocking food all over the floor. So, determined to improve the situation, I ask them to sit and stay JUST LONG ENOUGH so I can place the bowls on the floor. That worked. I must be quick about it, but it solved the problem.
Benny is 7 and he’s the father of Brutus, 6. Benny is serious and on alert. Brutus is clueless because Benny has done everything for him during his entire life. They are always together. They sleep wrapped in each other’s paws. Benny licks Brutus. Way too much. If they hear a noise, they look at the same time. Same direction. Same tilt of the head. That break in the routine requires more licking. More reassurance from Benny to Brutus that all is okay. Brutus rolls over while Benny licks whatever important spots need reassurance. Under the arms is a good place. I won’t mention the rest. This is a family blog.
We adopted them because they were, I guess, in a hoarding situation. Their owner was required to relinquish them to Colorado Pug Rescue. They weren’t mistreated. At least they don’t act that way but maybe they just didn’t notice that they were ignored, overlooked, or abused. They had each other and I suspect that was, and is, enough for them.
Bonded pairs are fascinating. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever known. We’ve had dogs that were best pals. They played. They licked. They hung together. But bonded pairs escalate that friendship to obsession. They literally cannot be separated. Even for a moment. They are a world unto themselves. It’s rather beautiful to witness that level of devotion. Brutus, who is naughty, will get sassy with Benny. He’ll jump on him and flea-bite his face. Benny’s response is to lick Brutus. He returns the momentary hostility and aggression with love.
Imagine, returning aggression with love. Benny is the reincarnated Mahatma Ghandi!
We take them on two long walks daily. The 10 pm walk prepares them for bedtime. We come back, I take off their harnesses and they get the zoomies. Benny grabs his favorite stuffy toy and races across the bed. I pound the bed and yell, “Zoomies”. He barks, growls, throws his toy on the ground at which time Brutus grabs it and runs into his kennel to hide it from Benny. There’s a brief kerfuffle and then they separate, Benny gets the toy and puts himself inside his kennel. Brutus grabs one of my shoes, socks, or recently worn underwear and takes those prizes into his kennel. I kiss each one good night and close them in. We’d never kenneled our dogs in the past. They always slept wherever they wanted or on a bed with us. But these two were raised in kennels and they feel safe.
It’s the only time they’re separate.
In the morning, I grab Benny’s tummy wrap (because he was not neutered until he was 7, he marks), give him a good morning kiss and then open Brutus’s door. Benny rushes in and they are reunited with a series of licks and whimpers.
Then they jump on my bed and wait for me to get back in, grab my Ipad, turn on the morning news, drink my orange juice and wait for GB to make coffee. Benny tunnels under the covers and Brutus takes his position to warm my lap.
It’s a good way to start a day. Two Pugs, happy together, living the lives they must have been destined to have. I’m pretty sure we’re insignificant to them just as long as we continue to provide lap and food.
(This blog is in memory of Tessie, Casey, Renee, The Little Arthur, Cruiser R. Roozer, Barney, Max, Winnie, Ghengis, Elon, Winter, Ol’ Doc Dewey, Nisha, Boomer, Mimi and Monkey.)
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