Tweeting Pug

Follow UnionPug on Twitter

Time Machine

May 2017
S M T W T F S
« Aug    
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031  

Plato

Bittersweet Anniversary

Coming up, April 23 is the anniversary of when Plato decided to get old.
Continue reading

Jasper’s Ears and Dream with Mouse

Jasper at 13 weeks

Jasper at 13 weeks with a whacky bentback ear

Last night I dreamt Jasper was playing with a mouse. Now IRL I would never let my animals play with a live animal. But I was allowing it in the dream. The mouse was about 3 inches long, not including the tail. It was pink and hardly had any fur. Apollo later joined in on the fun. Jasper was pretty gentle with it, but Apollo finished killing it off. It was sad, and I felt bad that I had let them kill it.

A couple weeks ago, Jasper’s ears started becoming a little more erect. His right ear was the first to stand up, although the tip bent backwards. His left ear was a little slower. I was wondering if it was ever going to stand up, or if it would always flop forward like a puppy. I know I went through the same thing with Plato when he was that age, and he made it through that “awkward ear stage” just fine. A few days ago, Jasper’s left ear finally decided to stay up. But his right ear hasn’t changed. I am now wondering if it will be permanently bent backwards. I’m hoping he’s just at that awkward stage.

Plato when he was young

Plato when he was young...winter 1996/97

The picture above I took of Jasper today. The picture to the left is of Plato when he was about the same age or probably a little older. Sometimes Jasper looks nothing like Plato, but the picture above reminded me of him so much. Little mannerisms, like when he does the spastic paws in the air thing is so Plato. Different personalities, though. Jasper is incredibly well-behaved around people, only barks when he is playing with other pets. I don’t remember Plato being as spastic, though. Was he? Or am I just getting old?

The Cycle of Life

Sleeping Jasper

Sleeping Jasper

After Vladimir our 2nd cat died in November of 1998, I couldn’t bear being without a grey kitty. We adopted Caligula only a few days later. After Hieronymus our fawn pug died, we got Lucifer Sam 3 weeks later, which I thought was pretty soon to find a black Pug. After Persephone, our 3rd cat died, we waited over a month to get Apollo, timing it conveniently with Stan’s time off for a “Kitten vacation.” I was fearing it would be much longer before we could get a Boston Terrier due to our plans to be away in August. I knew we either had to get one soon, or we would have to wait until September. The thought of being without a Boston was tearing me up inside. I was so depressed every day. Our other animals were sad and missing him too.

I know that getting another animal does not replace the animal that precedes it. It is silly to think such. Each animal is unique and has its own personality. But what it does do is bring our focus from depressed to engaged again. It continues the cycle of life, of our life together with our animals…cat, pug, cat, boston, cat, pug, cat, boston, and so on.

I feel it is important that there are 2 of each. Having not had one like myself growing up, I know how much it sucks. Even though Lucifer Sam is a little freaked out by Jasper right now, soon they will be couch snuggle buddies together…a little pack of two. Caligula was a hiss-monster with Apollo at first, but now they sleep in touching symmetrical shapes on the bed together. Plato grrrred at Lucifer Sam when we brought him home and snapped at his head. We had to keep them separated for several days until Plato acclimated to him. But after that, they were buddies until Plato died.

When I have my 2 sets of 2, I feel much more balanced, like life is normal. And I can remember all my other animals that have moved on fondly, but not have to cry myself sick about it.

Crying My Eyes Out

I had started crying my eyes out over a month ago when Plato first showed signs of going downhill quickly. I was preparing for that day for a while, yet it always comes too soon, and Stan and I wish we could both hold him just one last time. However if we had that last time, we’d always want one more last time after that.

I keep thinking of all these things to write down, short remembrances of him, like the day we brought him home, and when he (and we) discovered beds and how he was “good in bed” (he just lied down and slept, unlike our then-pug, Hieronymus, who would chase around on them and do a bad doggy potty thing).

I remembered when we travelled with Plato when he was still just a few months old to go to Stan’s Dad’s funeral, and then when he was about a year old to go up north to the UP to see the Paulding lights. I remember a photo of him with Hieronymus and a gigantic mushroom.  I remember his silly tricks like “go get the hair tie”, and how he would spin around on the futon and stop and stare at my paintings on the wall, as if the metallic cosmos-like reflections did something to his imagination.

I remembered how up until recently he would snuggle with me and Lucifer Sam on my futon under a blanket in the middle of the day.

I remember so many things, too many to recount.

In the early morning of  Thursday, May 27, 2010, I awoke to a horrible dream. I dreamt that Stan had a bunch of blue crushed up crystals that looked like Azurite. But I knew what it was, it was Cyanide. He said that we could take it because life had gotten horrible. At that moment, this strange feeling swept through my body, still dreaming, and I started to see our situation from a strange and scary perspective. I did not want to die, yet I was frightened that Stan thought it was so awful. I told him no, I was not ready, that if I was in terrible physical pain I would consider it, but not now. I woke up and cried my eyes out.

That night we had put Plato upstairs in the air-conditioning to try to calm him and cool him, yet he still barked all night. Stan slept with earplugs. I could still hear him. Early in the morning when Stan got up for the early shift, I recounted my dream, and tried to get him to stay home. See, I’m an oracle. Oracles speak in strange words and images that don’t always make sense. He went to work anyway.

Plato would not settle down that morning. He was constantly asking me to take him outside to relieve himself, he was constantly panting from pain. He was maxed out on the highest dose our vet allowed us to give him of the painkillers. Even though he had regained his appetite a bit and was eating regular dog food and his poo was more normal-looking, he was crying in pain more and more when one tried to pick him up because he could not lift himself up.

Stan called from work and we discussed it. We realized he was trying to tell us he wanted to go…it was time. He made an appointment with the vet for later that afternoon, and around 2:45-3:00 pm he left this world.

I still cannot stop crying

Plato: I Love You So Much

Plato

Plato: August 28, 1996 - May 27, 2010

More Later,

Update

Plato regained his appetite and is now eating canned dog food. It’s sort of limbo land. I seriously did not expect him to get his appetite back. A couple weeks ago, I thought he’d be gone by now. He has the worse time getting up and sitting down, however is walking…slow, but walking, even faster than a couple weeks ago.

I have no idea what is going on. It’s sort of like LOST…he was supposed to die in a plane crash, but he’s still on an island trying to survive. Weird metaphor, but closest I can describe. Maybe he just needs to let go, but he’s so clingy.

Not Even Meat

Plato is still hanging in there, but I know the end is so close. A few weeks ago he still ate regular dog food. Last week he would only nibble at canned food, and recently only allowed us to feed him real meat. Now he is refusing real meat. I was able to get some Trader Joe’s Dog Snacks down him. He still eats those.

He is sleeping more now. Last week was very restless, waking up all the time to take him out. But now he lets us sleep more. Stan had the last couple nights because I have been completely wiped out. I will have to stay with Plato when he works the early shift next week, though.

His breathing, which used to be labored because of his enlarged heart, is now slowing down. I have prepared myself for this for a long time, but it still breaks me up each time I face the inevitable.

I have spent over $400 in the recent weeks at the vet’s. They can’t find anything wrong except for the enlarged heart, which we’ve known about for some time and are treating with Furosamide and Enalapril (sp?). They think his pain is due to arthritis. They could do a (sonogram? radiography?) but last time we put him through that, it was a dreadful time coming out of the sedation. I am not putting him through that again.

We are just giving him as much comfort as we can. We’ll know when he wants to go, when he refuses all food and water and when he’s lost all desire for pleasure. We knew that when Persephone’s time  had ended and we had her put to sleep. Right now, Plato still loves to go for rides. We always put our dogs in their kennels when we travel with them, and when Stan takes the kennel out, Plato always barks so he won’t be left behind. Last night, despite his lameness, he followed Stan out to the van, up the incline to the parking stall. It was the cutest thing.

No Time

There has been no time for a life while running Plato’s Nursing Home. Stan had a few days off that he’d requested months ago to get work done in the garden and on the house. Ha! Most all time was spent doting on Plato and making life better for him. Shopping for pajamas at Target may not seem related to Plato, but it is, considering I never wear pajamas. We’re taking turns staying with him at night in the living room, and running him outside in the middle of the night. Which means I have to be clothed somewhat to at least stand at the backdoor while I wait for Plato. I wouldn’t be able to do that in my normal nighttime attire.

When we go grocery shopping we take him with us. He loves car rides and is the best behaved when we he is a passenger in motion.

I just got interrupted with a phone call and have lost my train of thought. It derails a lot lately.

The last year

I have been through so much. Within the past few weeks, I have been through so much turmoil as my beautiful Boston Terrier, Plato is dying.

Plato is over 13 years old. I do not believe he can make it to 14 in August. He has an enlarged heart and heart murmur. He was diagnosed with this condition last year, yet all the time he was very agile and seemed normal, except he wasn’t active as he used to be.

A few weeks ago, he decided it was time to get old. He started to limp, then scream in pain. He can no longer walk more than a few steps. Stan and I transport him outside to use the potty. He sits on a pillow when eating. Soon he will lose his appetite altogether. Then I know it will be time to let go. I am in tears as I write this. I have been in tears constantly since this started.

My Art Galleries

Solitaires Interiors Sputnik Digital Mixed Media Gilded Fractals Quilts Fractal Quilts Tiny Gems Digital Surrealism Arachne Spheramids