A Warning is a Love Filled Suggestion, Until Reality Strikes

I was fifteen minutes late for work Monday. I was late because I was standing in the backyard watching our four pugs refuse to come inside the house. Linus was attempting to eat dog poop while I flailed my arms and screamed at him; Louie, who is partially blind and fully deaf, was attempting to molest what was left of my hollyhocks in a far corner of the backyard; JJ was just staring at me without response because he had emergency surgery on Sunday and is currently stoned out of his gourd; and Murphy, who has all his faculties, was just being a bad boy who opted to not follow directions.  I love my pugs and they lead particularly good lives, but at that precise moment in time as I watched poop eating, hollyhock assaulting, and complete defiance and bewilderment on display in my backyard, I was also facing my life choices and my husband’s (Aaron’s) warnings. His warnings included, “do you know what our vet bill is going to be if we get another pug?”, “do you have any idea what these dogs are going to do to our ability to travel and not to mention our home and yard?”, and “Brenda, for God’s sake, if you go back in that pet store to hold the pug, you know damn well we are getting the pug. DO NOT GO BACK INSIDE!”  To make a long story short, I did not heed any of his well-intended warnings.

Our oldest pug, Louie, is thirteen years old and he is the best-behaved grumble member. Lou has always had a sweet disposition and does extraordinarily minor damage to our home and psyche. We brought Linus into the pack three years after Louie. I wanted Louie to have a friend and not be lonely when we were all at school and work. Linus is a big pug dog with a perpetual underbite. He likes howling at me when he is happy and he does whatever he wants to do. Murphy is three and a half years old and came crashing into our lives during a trip to Billings to see my dad in his memory care facility. My mom had just died, my dad was not doing well and life was full of grief, fear, and dread. One of the pet stores we were driving by had “pugs for sale” and the rest is history. Aaron would later confess to a co-worker of mine, “I knew she needed something to hug on and take her mind off of how bad things are.”  Murphy was bouncing around in a stock tank in the pet shop and $2000 later with a baby pug and accessories, we drove back to Miles City with Murphy on Aaron’s lap. Murphy is now three and a half years old and he is the bane of my existence, in the best way possible.  JJ completed the grumble three years ago when he needed a foster home after being incarcerated at the Miles City animal shelter. I could not stand the thought of a pug being alone and scared. The fostering deal became permanent and JJ is a much-loved member of the Kneeland Grumble. JJ is a sweet boy and just wants to snuggle and to be close to his humans and his pug brothers.

Despite Aaron being correct about every one of his warnings, he loves me unconditionally and knows I needed all four of those pugs. He did not stand in my way and although he may express his displeasure at times, he loves the pug dogs too. I believe I did Aaron a favor by not listening to him (insert eye roll). I do not often tell Aaron that he was right about everything he forewarned regarding the grumble. I instead prefer to focus on how cute the grumble is and how loyal the little fellows are as they follow me round the house and vie for position on my lap.

It makes me sad to see the pugs age and slowly turn into spindle legged little old men, but it is an honor to be able to take care of the little beasts and make certain they lead their best dog lives and are as comfortable and loved as much as possible.  Dogs come into our lives because the universe knows what we need. I needed each one of the pugs in my life at the exact time I received them. I do not think there is another animal on the planet who loves as deeply and unconditionally as a dog, and I am grateful for my pug dogs.

I eventually made it to work and we will re-enact the dysfunctional start to the day throughout the week. I bought three lottery tickets this weekend. Should I win, I am going to convert into a stay-at-home dog mom. I cannot think of a better way to spend my days.