Empty

Brodie, in his dramatic phases, has always asked " Could this day get any worse"? Late Thursday evening, he knew. All those years of dramatic whining and complaining, he now knew. When I told him that Pugsley had passed away he said "this day can't get any worse". He was right, it could not. Our sweet  Pugsley was gone.
I know the cause, but I don't know why. Why is she gone? What more could we have done? Why, is this happening to us?
A proper breeder was picked out. We were committed to having this little pup for the next 13 or more years. A pug is a "lifetime commitment". Not for us. She is gone.

No more cuddles.
No more snuggles.
No more chasing little toys
No more licking little boys.
Empty
Vacant playpen
Lonely toys
No more squeaking
No more joy

Pugsley

Pugsley

Empty play pen, empty crate, maybe morning, we will know your fate
They will call if you get worse. Phones plugged in, cell is charged
Not ringing yet, I had better double check
Overnight, plugged up to IVs.
You were jumping playing, next to me, not so very long ago
Bloated tummy, renal failure.
Fingers crossed and my toes
Pug you need to live some more and grunt your little tiny nose.
Fluids pumped from your swollen belly
Still, they know nothing
Dear Pug, if you could only speak
tell us what you ate, let us know so we can help
We love you so, so very much.
You are the greatest pup.