Under The Weather

Here we go again….

So I've been sick now for going on 5 days.  There's some nasty viral thing going around Flagstaff right now that seems to be incapacitating people for multiple days at a time.  Simon had it last week, now it's my turn.  It sucks.  I hate being sick (who doesn't?).  I've been pretty much loafing on the couch for the past few days, feeling like an absolutely nonproductive slug.  While I am a self-professed lazy person, I do enjoy being productive, of accomplishing something, no matter how minute.  I haven't been to the gym in days, although I have been trying to take random short walks, just to get some fresh air and try to expand my aching lungs a bit.  It's hard to tell if I'm afflicted by the Flagstaff virus, or if this is a manifestation of my seasonal allergies…or it could be a little of both.  The hacking cough and achey chest feels like a cold, the congestion, sneezing, and runny nose feels like allergies.  I once asked a friend of mine who was becoming a nurse practitioner, how one tells the difference between a cold and allergies.  She said that with allergies, a person has boggy mucus membranes (referring to the soft tissues inside the nose).  I'm not quite sure what "boggy" means, and I have neither the equipment nor the know-how to figure out if I have boggy membranes or not.  So I'm erring on the side of caution and pretty much avoiding most forms of human contact until I feel ready to re-engage as a healthy member of society.

I hate calling out to work knowing that I'm shorting my coworkers.  And truly, I like my job.  This is actually one of the first places I've worked where I don't feel like I need a "mental health day," as we call them, when we've just had enough and need to step away before saying or doing something rash.  I enjoy going to my job I enjoy my coworkers, and I enjoy taking care of most of the patients (there are those few who definitely drive nurses to the aforementioned mental health days).  But, as a healthcare professional, it is not only my job to take care of the sick, but also to prevent them from catching any additional illnesses while they are in my care.  And whether I'm contagious or not, hacking relentlessly and constantly blowing my nose is not only unsanitary, but it doesn't bring much confidence to my patients or my coworkers.  It is also my responsibility to be on top of my game, to be thinking with a clear head, and to be as physically healthy as possible so that my own shortcomings don't cause me to make errors.  Going to work sick is not only irresponsible, but it can be dangerous for those vulnerable populations and inconvenient for my coworkers, as they'll inevitably be the ones picking up my slack.  Years ago I wasn't feeling well and had gone to work anyway.  I was spending a lot of time in the bathroom.  During one of my bathroom trips, one of my patients, who was very ill, vomited and began choking on it.  Had someone not been walking by and heard the commotion, things could have ended very badly for him.  And worse yet, they couldn't find me for assistance.  It was scary and something I'll never forget, and I learned my lesson about going to work when not feeling well.  My patients deserve my full attention…their lives practically depend on it.  And truth be told, I probably spend just as much time with my coworkers as I do my patients, and getting my coworkers sick just takes even more caregivers out of the equation, so it's best to stay home.

Being sick is really rather boring.  When I'm not hacking and feeling dreadfully awful, I'm just sitting here, too sick to do much, but well enough that I'm getting stir crazy.  So I alphabetized my collection of Stephen King books.  I found two duplicates, 'Salem's Lot and The Dead Zone, so if anyone out there is looking to add either of these to their collection, let me know.  I believe they are both 1st editions, although I've decreased the value of 'Salem's Lot by writing my name in it.  Stupid…although, they're really not going for much these days anyway, but there are some people out there who collect 1st edition printings.  I've been drinking lots of water, which results in lots of trips to the bathroom.  Not that that's in the same vein as 'something to do,' but it's keeping me moving around.  I've done some laundry, cleaned up and wiped down the kitchen a few times, reorganized the fridge and threw out a few things that were rotting in the veggie drawer (okra? I don't even know where to begin with preparing that…to the compost pile it goes).  I've taken Cooper for a few walks, attempted to get a photo of the giant spider living in our tomato plant (he's camera shy, apparently), taken a few naps, and that's about it.  Truth be told, I'd almost rather be at work where I'm distracted and not constantly reminded that I'm not well enough to do anything worth doing.   

I've read 4 books since Sunday, when all this started going down.  I finished off The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green.  I was told by my good friend's son that I should read the book before I see the movie.  It was a really good book.  It's young-adult fiction, which seems to be all the rage these days for young adults and adults alike.  Green does an excellent job of capturing the heart and soul of teenagers, albeit in a somewhat Dawson's Creek fashion.  I have to point out that at 15 years old, I was nowhere near as mature as the characters in his book, but there were probably 15 year-olds at my school who were at that maturity level…I was probably too busy trying to rationalize putting my Barbies away permanently to notice.  I also read his book Paper Towns, which was also pretty good.  Again, the maturity level was above what I would consider normal for a teenager, but I think that's what makes it relatable to someone my age, while still being relatable to a young adult.  It was good.  I would have to say I enjoyed Stars a little better, and am looking forward to reading more books by this author.  I also read a newish book from one of my favorite authors, Christopher Buckley.  This one was called They Eat Puppies, Don't They?  Buckley is an entertaining political satire writer; almost all of his books take place around Washington DC, and usually have something or everything to do with lobbyists, political corruption, and the like.  He is the author who wrote Thank You For Smoking, which I consider one of his better books.  All of them are good.  This one was a little hard to follow as it had a lot of characters and it took place in both Washington DC and China.  It was about a couple people (a lobbyist and an Ann Coulter talking-head type) trying to stir up anti-Chinese sentiment in America at the behest of a giant arms dealer whose agenda involved getting some new weapons approved through Congress.  All sorts of shenanigans were going on.  Last night I finished Stories I Only Tell My Friends, an autobiography by Rob Lowe.  I really liked it.  It's written really well, and I've always really enjoyed autobiographies.  It's interesting to hear him tell stories of rubbing elbows with famous people before they were famous, of playing in the neighborhood with the Sheen and Penn boys, and of attending the same high school as Robert Downey Jr.  I find the cutthroat world of Hollywood interesting, to a point.  Lowe managed to keep it down to earth by exposing his faults and bad decisions, and also those decisions made by others that impacted both his personal and professional life.  I've always really liked Rob Lowe as an actor, and come on…those eyes!!  My goodness, arguably the most beautiful eyes on TV.  But I digress…

Mmmm…Mac and Cheese!!  

I've been trying to eat healthy to give my body the best tools to fight this crap off, but trying is the operative word here.  Macaroni and cheese, while tasty, is anything but nutritious.  I know this, but when you feel like crap and you've been laying on the couch for 3 days, minimal effort feels like maximal effort.  It's all I could do to boil some water for the noodles.  Hahaha!  And my throat hurts, so anything soft was a bonus.  I wanted nothing to do with any of that roughage that Simon was eating, although he always offered to share.  I did make a pot of chicken soup using the chicken broth I made recently, and it was so tasty.  I don't think I'll ever buy boxed chicken broth again.  I've been on a kick of making one roasted chicken a week…Simon and I love chicken, and one chicken will last us almost a week by adding it to soup, quesadillas, fried rice, and chicken salad.  We don't cook much these days, so anything that we can cook once and eat multiple times is a bonus.  So yeah, after making all these chickens, I had been saving the bones and skin and started making my own broth from them.  So flavorful.  And cheap!  Seeing as I bought the chicken anyway, the broth is basically free.  Just today I chopped up some of a roasted chicken and made a copy-cat version of Chef Jean's chicken salad.  Chef Jean is a robust Cajun man from Phoenix who comes up from Phoenix to the Flagstaff farmer's market every Sunday.  He's a fantastic cook, and his stand always has a line.  If not for the food, then for the entertainment.  I could sit and listen to him talk all day in his French-Cajun accent.  I've had multiple things from his stand, but the chicken salad is arguably the best.

Chef Jean's Copy-Cat Chicken Salad
1 roasted chicken (you won't use the whole thing, but a mix of white/dark meat is best…you can even go buy one of those rotisserie chickens from the grocery store for a short cut!)
1 cup onion, chopped
1 cup celery, chopped
mayonaise
garlic powder
salt
pepper
craisins
chopped almonds or cashews (Jean uses cashews, I prefer almonds)
Balsamic vinegar

So basically, you just shred the chicken, add everything else and stir.  I eye-balled everything, so my measurements are far from exact.  I probably used about 3 cups of shredded chicken, then just added the onions and celery until I had a good chicken-to-veggie ratio (more chicken than veggie).  The rest of the ingredients I just added to my tastes.  I didn't add much salt at all, as the roasted chicken and the mayo have plenty of their own salt.  I'm liberal with pepper, added a sprinkle of garlic powder (you can do fresh if you want, I was just being lazy), and splash in the balsamic to your liking.  Craisins are definitely optional, I think raisins would be good too...I like the little bit of sweet that they bring to it.    Fresh chopped apples would be good in this as well, especially now that it's Honeycrisp season!

I'll also share my sore throat tea recipe, for those who might become afflicted with this same illness at some point during the coming months…winter is just around the corner, after all!  I found the lemon in it to be a little harsh, as citrus usually is on a sore throat, but Simon really liked it.  I'll give you the recipe as is, and explain the changes I'll make for next time in the comments.

Sore Throat Tea
1 cup honey
2 lemons, sliced
2 fingers of ginger, peeled and sliced into coins (I will do more ginger next time)
1 tsp ground cinnamon (optional…I used it because I love cinnamon)

In a 2-cup jar or container, toss in the lemon slices, ginger slices, and cinnamon.  Pour the honey over the top, mix it around to incorporate the cinnamon, put a lid on it and toss it in the fridge (it'll keep in the fridge for several months).  When you're ready to have some, place a heaping spoonful of the mixture into a mug, pour boiling water into the mug and stir.  Next time I do this, I think I'll just take the juice of the two lemons instead of the slices.  I could taste the lemon rind, and I didn't like that…too bitter.  I might even omit the lemon all together, just because I found it to be irritating to my sore throat.  I think this mixture would even be good to add to some basic green tea if you're looking to get in some extra nutrients and whatnot.

So those are my "sick day" recipes and remedies.  Outside of the mac and cheese, of course…I think everyone knows how to make that (open box, boil noodles, drain noodles, add cheese packet, milk, and butter, stir, shamelessly eat all of it without sharing…you get the idea).

And now it's time for another nap.  Hoping to be up to snuff by Sunday, which is when I work next.  This whole illness bit has also put a dent in the training for my upcoming foot races in Minnesota, just over a week away.  Ah well, there's no shame in walking.  I'll be running it with some friends I haven't seen in a while, so walking will provide us a better opportunity to chat…hahaha!

Be well!  Cover your mouth!  Wash your hands!      

And Then There Were 3...

Paw print memorial that the vet office made for us

It's been almost a week since we said goodbye to our little Brie.  I find us doing surprisingly well, all things considered.  I think what's made it easier is that for the last year, we'd been waiting for this to happen.  Brie took a fall last summer that resulted in a torn toe-nail…there was blood everywhere, she was panicking, we were panicking…I thought for sure that was the beginning of the end.  But it wasn't.  She went on to live a full year and then some after that incident.  But it was that particular incident that gave me a glimpse into what were up against.  Reality showed up at the doorstep uninvited, and sat down on the couch and just waited.

I don't find myself looking for her as much as I thought I would.  Part of that probably has to do with the fact that she wasn't all that interactive in the past few months.  She basically would move from pet bed to pet bed, napping pretty much all day long and then sleeping through the night.  We would snuggle on the couch in the evenings, and she had her little spot on the bed at night, and that pretty much summed up our daily interactions.  She couldn't go for walks, she couldn't play, and I think she was just worn out.

There are times when her absence catches me unawares.  The other morning I was letting Cooper out of the crate, and he charged out just like he always does.  I found myself pausing at the door of the crate, waiting as I always did for Brie to slowly get up and make her way out.  But she wasn't there.  As I walk through the house, I find myself glancing at the pet beds, as I always did, just trying to keep a mental note as to where she happened to be snoozing.  I see a pile of laundry lying on the floor, and there's no little Brie sleeping on it.  Even if I left something as small as a sock on the floor, she would lie on it.  She just wanted to be snuggled up with things that smelled like me, even if they were tiny.

Her favorite bed with some of her favorite toys.  She always chewed the faces off.

It's weird when a pet dies…it's kind of like when a person dies, but it's different in a lot of ways, as it should be.  Pets are not people, but they are members of the family just the same.  After my grandma died, I got back a blanket that I had made for her.  I used to just sit there and bury my face in the blanket, taking in the smell of her and her house that still remained trapped within the fibers.  I didn't use or wash that blanket for a really long time, as I didn't want that physical reminder of my grandma to disappear.  The blanket has since been washed, and it no longer smells like her.  But every time I use it I think of her, and that still gives me comfort.  With pets it's different.  On the day of Brie's passing, I was in full-on laundry mode, and washed all our bedding, the dogs' bedding, and anything else that she may have come into contact with.  I literally have nothing in the house anymore that smells like her.  Which is ironic, given that I complained about how stinky she was.  But she wasn't always stinky, and not everything she touched got stinky…I just wish I had something that smelled a little bit like her…a slightly doggy smell with a touch of corn chip.  No idea where the corn chip smell came from, but it was there just the same.  I still have her bowl, which I can't yet bring myself to throw away.  I have it in my head that I'll use it as some sort of receptacle for things.  No idea what, but I think I can pretty easily find a use for a big orange bowl.  Maybe it can be a popcorn bowl, one of the treats that we both loved to eat.  Is it weird to eat popcorn out of a dog bowl?  Maybe.  I guess I don't really much care.  A bowl is a bowl, and it's bigger than our other bowls, so I can get more popcorn in it.  The glutton in Brie would have appreciated that.

A lot of people have asked me how Cooper is doing without his constant companion.  I guess I don't really know.  I don't know that dogs show remorse or sadness the way that people do.  He's been avoiding the pet beds, which is something that I've noticed.  Cooper has always been pretty non discriminating in where he takes a rest, but if Brie was on one of the beds and he was ready to chill out for a bit, he'd curl up with her on the bed and they'd have a nice nap together.  So I don't know if he's avoiding the beds because she's not there to snuggle with him, or if he's never really much cared for them in the first place.  When he does lie on them, he keeps himself off to one side, as if leaving room for her to join him.  He's also reverted back to his weird eating habits.  He's always been a little finicky, but I recently changed out the dog food and he couldn't get enough of it.  But, there was always a hierarchy to keep in mind when it came to meal times.  Brie always ate first.  No matter what.  Sometimes Cooper would eat at the same time as her, sometimes he would wait until she was finished, but he never started first.  That's just how it always was.  Now he's back to being picky, skipping meals, leaving pieces of food lying around…he just seems uninterested in eating.  Either that or he's just not sure when he's supposed to eat, given that he always took his cues from her.  He's getting enough to eat, but he's eating about half of what he was prior to Brie's passing.  We've also noticed that he's barking more than he did when she was here.  Along with eating first, Brie was definitely the dominate personality in the house.  If she freaked out, he freaked out.  If she was calm,  he was mostly calm (he's always been a little more high strung than her).  Granted, the reason she didn't react to anything was because she was blind and deaf, but he didn't know that…hahaha!  But now he barks a lot.  He barks at people walking by, and rather than stopping when they're out of sight, he continues to stare in the general direction they were traveling and continues to bark.  He barks in the house for seemingly no reason.  It's as if without her there to assure him that everything is okay, he feels the need to be on high alert all the time.

Other than that though, he seems to be his same happy-go-lucky self.  He's enjoying his daily walks, which is something we hadn't been doing once Brie started to decline.  I felt bad taking him out and leaving her behind, because somehow she always knew when he was going for a walk, even if we tried to be stealthy about it.  The day after she passed, we went for a nice hike in the woods and we brought Cooper along, something we hadn't done in years.  Partially because he doesn't behave when he sees other dogs, but also for the same reason that we quit the daily walks…because Brie couldn't come.  He had a fantastic time running around in the woods…peeing and pooping on everything, running ahead of us and waiting for us to catch up, sniffing to see who had been there before us.  It was really fun to be out in the woods with a dog again.  Of course, since the daily walks had been so few and far between, he was very out of shape and ended up having to be carried for over half the walk, but he still enjoyed himself and it was a nice activity for the three of us to do together in light of all the sadness from the previous evening.

So I guess that's that.  Kinda sad that in the space of less than two years our little family of five has decreased to a family of three.  I guess that's just how it goes.  It's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I've had dogs for over 13 years…that's a long time!  And they've been here for some very significant parts of my life.  Despite all the sadness when they go, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Our new family of three. Cooper is, unfortunately, not as photogenic as Brie was.

          

Bye Bye Little B

Brie hiking in LaCrosse, WI

Just a year and a half ago I wrote a eulogy for my first dog, Lady.  And here I sit…doing it again for little miss Brie.  It's no secret that Brie had been my favorite.  I, and everyone who's ever had a child or pet, knows that you're not supposed to have a favorite, but you do.  You always do, whether you're comfortable enough to admit it or not.  Brie was mine.

It was kind of by accident that I ever found her.  I had recently graduated from college and had started my new job as a nurse at the Mayo Clinic.  I was still living at home, and suddenly had all this money that I had no idea what to do with.  It was burning a hole in my pocket, and for some reason I had the idea in my head that I needed to buy something significant with it.  I was bouncing some ideas off my friend Franko, who was living in Winona at the time, and when I mentioned that I was thinking about getting another dog, he said, "Dude, you totally should get a pug."  Up until then, I hadn't even really thought about pugs.  Didn't really know a thing about them other than what they looked like, and that they were notorious for snorting.  Funny thing is, about a year prior to this, I took one of those online personality quizzes…you know the ones, where you answer a bunch of questions and they tell you what state you should be living in, what car you should be driving, etc.  The one I took was for what kind of dog personality I had.  Lo and behold, I had gotten the pug personality.  At the time, I didn't think much of it.  But once Franko told me to get a pug, I thought he might be on to something.  

Brie lounging poolside in Cape Coral, FL

So one day in August I was casually looking through the newspaper and saw an ad for a pug puppy for sale.  On a whim, I called the lady, who explained that Brie had originally been purchased from a breeder by her daughter and son-in-law.  Unfortunately for Brie, the daughter went back to school full-time, and the son-in-law worked full-time, leaving very little time for little Brie.  So they decided to try to find a new home for her.  I don't quite remember the circumstances, but I had my little brother Mike with me, and we drove out to Pine Island, MN together to have a look at this pug puppy.  Now, I hadn't run any of this past my parents yet, and our family was still mourning the recent loss of our dog Lassie, who had passed about a month earlier.  But, I thought to myself, "I can just go look."  So we looked.  And we loved her.  I didn't get her that day, as I wanted to run it by my parents first.  Mom was mostly indifferent, deferring to my dad on the subject, who responded with an immediate "No more dogs!"  So the wind was taken out of my sails a bit.  So I waited.  A few days later, while mom, Mike, and I were out school shopping for Mike, the lady who had Brie called me and said that she was willing to drop the price for Brie, because she knew that if I took her, that she'd be going to a good home.  So I told Mom this.  And then Mom agreed to go look at Brie, knowing full well that it's difficult, if not impossible, to say no to a puppy.  So we went back out to Pine Island, and came home with little Brie, who was around 14 weeks old.  Dad knew nothing about it.

The obligatory bath time photo

So we're all sitting in the living room, anxiously waiting for Dad to get home from work.  None of us had any idea how he might react, but we were pretty sure he'd be mad, since only a few days prior he had told us that no more dogs were allowed.  So we're sitting with Brie on the couch, the back of which faces the front door.  Dad comes in, and Brie stands up and peers over the back of the couch to see who's arrived.  The rest of us are silent, waiting for him to notice her.  We ask him how his day at work went, trying to hard to suppress the giggles that are forming, watching Brie furiously wag her tail at the new person who has just entered her new world.  Dad takes his time taking off his shoes, putting down his bag, and just shrugging off his work day.  He then looks up and sees this little pug face staring at him from over the top of the couch.  "I said no more dogs!" was the first thing out of his mouth.  My response, "But look how cute she is!"  So he came scowling into the living room, giving Brie the stink eye as he approached.  In true Brie fashion, in an obliviousness that would follow her through the rest of her life, she continued to wag her tail and wiggle with excitement as he got closer, not knowing that this was the one person in the house who could, and quite possibly would, send her packing.  Dad took a seat on the couch opposite us, and as he tried to maintain is gruff demeanor, and not quite succeeding, he held out his arms and said, "Well, let me see her then."  And the rest, as they say, is history.      

Brie pretty much charmed the rest of the family from there on out.  Everyone loved her.  So much so that there are now at least 5 other pugs in our immediate and extended family.  Prior to Brie, there were none.  My family loved her so much that when I decided to move out, they told me that I should leave Brie with them and get another pug for myself.  So I bought my parents their own pug, Sadie, to make Brie's moving out that much easier for them.  After that, Lady, Brie, and I started our life together.  Cooper joined the party two years after I got Brie, and it was then that I instituted my Dad's original command…No more dogs!  :)

Picking up turds by the Big Dam Bridge in Little Rock, AR

It's been said that pug owners are some of the craziest dog owners out there.  Being realistic, I'd have to concur.  Although, I do believe that Boxer and Dachshund owners are not far behind…just had to throw that out there…hahaha!  But that's neither here nor there…pug owners truly are kind of crazy.  You have to be.  In nature, pugs would not survive.  Everything that makes a dog, a dog has been bred out of them.  Pugs are not very bright, they're difficult to train, they have a slew of chronic health problems, and they lack that people-pleasing element that is so prominent in other dog breeds.  Pugs are willing to do what you want, as long as it benefits them in some way or another.  It's like convincing them that your idea is actually their idea.  It's a cycle of constant vigilance, and it pretty much starts at acquisition, and ends at death.  However, whatever they lack in normal dog attributes, they make up for in spades with their goofy personalities and laid-back demeanor.  I couldn't tell you the number of times Brie has almost had me in tears over some weird thing that she had done.  She had such a personality, and even though she could be an epic pest, I loved almost every minute I got to spend with that little beastie.  I say almost, because we definitely had our moments.  I'd give anything to have more of those moments with her, but her poor little body had other ideas.  

Brie with one of her favorite pig toys

This last year with her has been really hard.  Gone was the happy-go-lucky little dog who used to chase Cooper, her pug brother under the bed, and then bark furiously until he came back out so she could chase him back under again. Gone was my little snuggle bug who would jump up on the couch and curl up behind my knees for a nap.  Gone was the little dog who loved to go for walks, go for rides, go anywhere as long as she was going along.  In the course of a year, Brie managed to lose almost all of her sight, all of her hearing, and slowly lost functioning of her back legs due to a chronic disease called Degenerative Myelopathy.  It made her very anxious not knowing where I was, as she could no longer see or hear me.  She would shuffle through the house in a panic trying to find me, sniffing everything that resembled a leg until she found mine.  And then she could relax, knowing where I was.  If I moved, the whole process started again.  It was heart-breaking to watch the little dog with whom I had literally climbed mountains reduced to a neurotic mess because she couldn't find her person in a 1,000 square foot house.  I tried to make things as easy for her as I could.  I kept her pet beds always in the same spot, and when she appeared lost, I would guide her to one of them and help her lay down.  If I was going to bed, I would pick her up and bring her with me.  If I was going to sit on the couch for any length of time, I'd set her next to me.  I myself probably got a little neurotic in this last year, always wondering where she was, what she was doing, hearing her shuffling from room to room looking for me or the water dish…those were usually the two things she was always looking for.

As stressful as it was to watch Brie's steady decline, I know it was hard on people who came to visit us to see her.  She shuffled, she staggered, it was obvious that she couldn't see or hear very well.  People would make comments or ask questions out of concern or curiosity, and I would sometimes get pretty defensive, feeling as though my ethics and abilities as a pet owner were being called into question.  It's hard to make an assessment from the outside looking in.  Even from the inside, it was tough as nails sometimes to watch her struggle.  But then in the next minute she'd be furiously chewing on a toy or running to the front door to greet whomever was coming in.  It was just this continuous cycle of good moments and bad moments, happening multiple times a day, every day, over the course of an entire year.  It was so exhausting and frustrating and sad, and it left me feeling so inadequate and helpless because I just didn't know what to do to make her better.  It's funny how sometimes doing the best you can still just isn't enough.

Brie demonstrating some hops during the Pug Olympics in our hotel in Fort Myers, FL

Her spirit was still so incredibly intact right up until the end, and I think that's what made it so hard for me for so long.  There were days when I was convinced that it was time, and then she'd do something silly like throw a toy up into the air and catch it, or eat all of her food and half of Cooper's.  Just little things that showed me she was still there and still wanted to be.  But last night I knew we had turned a corner…the corner that has been hovering just out of sight for the past few months.  Brie was no longer able to stand.  Of course, standing had been a struggle for her the past few months, but she was always able to get to her feet either by herself or with some assistance from Simon or I.  Last night she couldn't find her feet no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I massaged her little legs, so matter how much I put her paws on the ground and tried to put her in a standing position.  Nothing worked.  And then she got stressed.  She started to cry, and thrash, and the only thing that calmed her was for me to pick her up and hold her like a little baby.  I knew then that it was time.  I couldn't watch her struggle any more, and it was obvious that all the things that we had been doing to help her were no longer working.  Luckily, our favorite vet, Dr. Sarah, was working last night, and she was with us when Brie passed.  Of course, prior to her passing, Brie managed to eat about 10 dog treats, something she hasn't been allowed to do due to food allergies, so she was happy as a clam, munching away until there was nothing left to munch.  And when the end came, it was quiet and peaceful…we should all be so lucky to pass quickly and quietly, with a belly full of treats, surrounded by those who care about us the most.       

One of her favorite places to sit

Of course I'm struggling with the guilt that comes along with the relief that it's over.  There's always that.  I know in my heart that I did everything I could have for her, that the only reason she made it as long as she did was because I was constantly there for her.  But still it wasn't enough.  It never is, really.  When it's your time, it's your time, and no amount of glucosamine, antibiotics, snuggles, expensive pet food, or treats is going to prevent that.

So, I'd like to get away from the sad stuff, and share some of the things that made Brie so special.  Not just to me, but to almost everyone she met.  She was seriously one of the goofiest dogs I've ever seen.  She loved nothing more than to be propped up on the couch like a person.  She'd just sit there contentedly watching the TV, barking every now and again as an animal or person would go running by on the screen.  She'd sit that way for hours until she would fall asleep, and then tip over and continue snoring.  If snuggling was an Olympic sport, she could have been a gold medalist.  I'd barely get settled on the couch before she'd be crawling into my lap.  And while pugs might appear to be small dogs, they are quite dense, and 25 pounds of pug on one's chest or full bladder could get quite uncomfortable.  Since I was her person, and had pretty much coddled her since I got her, she followed me everywhere, even into the bathroom.  In her younger years she would jump into the tub with me while I showered…it was kinda funny to be soaping up while a little dog was running around at my feet.  As she got older she was content to lie on the bath mat and wait for me to come out.  She also frequently insisted that she be in the bathroom with me while I was using the toilet.  Sometimes she would try to crawl up on my lap while I was sitting there.  Sometimes I let her.  Sometimes I realized that it was weird to have a dog on my lap while using the loo, but at the same time, it was kind of unique in its own way.  How many people can say they've gone number 2 with a dog snoring away on their lap?  Probably not many, I suppose (see previous paragraph about pug owners being crazy).  In the event that I went into the bathroom without her, I could usually hear her snorting outside the door, and occasionally she would stick her paws under the door, as if she thought she could squeeze under it and get to me.   

Like Lady, Brie travelled all over the country with Simon and I.  She's climbed mountains and bluffs in Vermont, North Carolina, Arkansas, Wisconsin, and Colorado.  For such a portly little thing, she was actually quite agile.  She out climbed both Cooper and Lady, displaying her inner-mountain goat capabilities.  People always looked surprised to see us climbing a mountain with pugs in tow.  Of course, it was only possible to do that during the most perfect of conditions…pugs can't handle much heat, cold, or physical exertion, so the weather and conditions had to be perfect or we'd be carrying her.  That happened a time or two, but she was always so excited to go and get outdoors and just be a dog in the woods.  She's seen the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean.  She's taken a poop in more states than most people I know.  And seeing as she was under the impression that all the world is her toilet, that's a lot of poop.  

Catching a snooze on the back of the couch

Of all my dogs, Brie has always been the most playful.  She destroyed more toys than Lady and Cooper combined.  There are toys scattered all over the house, and I'm trying to decide what to do with them, as Cooper shows very little interest in toys these days…not that he showed much interest in them to begin with.  Whenever I would come home from being out and about, Brie would always furiously hunt for a toy to carry around, and then she would strut around me with a toy in her mouth, snorting happily the entire time.  She didn't want to play with it, she just wanted to carry it around as some sort of sign that I was home and she was happy about it.  I'm really going to miss that.  It was such a small little thing, but it was unique to her and it made me feel special to see her happily running around me with her favorite toy in her mouth.  Even in her last few days she still made an attempt to greet me with a toy.  She was also famous for her drive-by licking.  I was used to it and didn't think much of it, but she had this thing where she would wander past a bare leg, give it a quick lick without missing a beat, and continue on her way.  I can't even count the number of times friends have commented, "Did she just lick me?"  Yeah, yeah she did.  She does that.  Up until a few years ago, she would army crawl across the floor.  It was seriously the funniest thing.  We could pretty much get her to do it whenever we wanted by getting her to lay down and then tap the floor in front of her.  And off she would go, crawling on her belly across the carpet.  She hadn't done that in quite some time…just didn't have the strength in her legs anymore.

Getting in some reading with my Dummy in Cape Coral, FL

She was undoubtedly the stinkiest dog I've ever owned.  Granted, I've only owned three, but of those three, she was by far the stinkiest.  I could bathe her and get her smelling all nice and clean…and within a few hours she was back to her stinky self.  She did have a bit of a skin condition, which I think was probably part of it, but still…so stinky!  And gassy!  That dog could clear a room with her toots.  I remember the first time my friend Dave ever heard her toot…he was so perplexed as to how a creature with no butt cheeks could produce a fart sound.  Trust me, Brie didn't need butt cheeks.  The funniest was when she was trying to jump up on something…she would fart with the effort, giving the impression of a little jet propulsion to get her where she wanted to go.  Simon and I would be lying in bed at night, and we'd hear a fart from the foot of the bed.  We never had to ask who did it.  We knew.  It was always Brie.  I'll never forget the time she was sleeping under the blanket and produced quite the audible fart.  A few seconds later she was furiously crawling out from under the covers, having severely dutch-ovened herself.

Of course she had her fair share of nicknames, as all pets do.  To name a few: Breezy, Brietard (not PC, I know, but there it is anyway), Brie Butt, Breezy Pup, Baby Girl, Little B, Young Beezy, Brie B, Beezy Bub, Little Dummy, Beezer. 

My sweet little B and her other favorite pig toy

I'm going to miss her warbley little bark, that was more like a howl than anything.  I'm going to miss hearing her snoring from the foot of the bed.  I'm going to miss her warm little body snuggled up with me on those cold winter nights.  I'm going to miss her snorts, her pug kisses, and everything that made Brie, Brie.  As I wander around the house and pick up all the things that were hers…her toys, her dish, her leash, her meds, her personal care items, I can't quite come to the realization that she's gone and that she's not coming back.  She was a part of my everyday life for 12 years, and her absence this morning feels so huge.  I know that will fade away as the days pass, and that I'll probably always miss her on some level.  My first pup, the little dummy who made me laugh when the rest of the world had me in tears.  Fare thee well, my little B!  Thanks for the memories, and for giving the best years of your life so selflessly (for a pug) to me.  :)