My last conversation with the old pug...he spoke clearly

Hughie came into my life when he was going on nine. He was totally blind and one eyed. I knew his time with us would be shorter than getting a pup...but every day of his 4.5 years with us was a blessing.

I woke yesterday with a lot on the agenda, but I really didn't think it would be the last day of Hughie's life. I had to be in town early to take Martyn's truck in-he needed all new brakes which had rusted in the Maine ocean air since he doesn't drive it much in winter-so I spent three hours at the library proofing the upcoming White Dog book.

When I got home, I decided to try to get an X-ray for Hughie and was able to get an afternoon appointment. I've been back and forth for a week to the vet because of Hughie's health. Last Wednesday he showed early symptoms of spinal issues and pain-something common in pugs and something he has suffered from twice since we got him at age 9. He is now 13.5. I did not want to be without meds so got him into the vet right away. We put him on pain meds and anti inflammatories immediately and also gave him a shot for immediate relief. I saw some improvement and was hopeful...briefly.

The last time he had this, he bounced back in a couple days. This time his symptoms kept evolving, and it became clear it was more neurological. And he had this strange thing going on in his throat. So on Monday I went in to get more drugs, without Hughie, and ran into my vet and we chatted. We decided to keep him on the meds longer, and do an X-ray when I could get him in to see if we could figure out what this lung/thing was. And that's why I went in yesterday afternoon, to get the X-ray.

But when I carried Hughie to the car, I told him no matter what happened at the vet, it was going to be okay.

I was willing to see an xray, but my heart and instinct told me...he might not come home with me.

When I got to the vet, and he walked in to do the X-ray, I kind of broke down. I told him I wasn't sure if keeping him alive now was the right thing, even for another week of meds. He got down on the floor with Hughie in front of me and assessed him again, he was clearly in pain and showing neurological signs. An MRI would mean a 4 hour trip and having him put to sleep, and there was no point in an MRI if I wasn't willing to do surgery, and I was not. I was very clear on that in my heart. He is old, and the surgery is not a sure bet that what is causing the spinal issue can be fixed. He had hard enough time with dental surgery recovery. The vet agreed with this assessment.

As we talked...I just knew it was time. I had asked the skies to help me be clear when I went in, and they were. So...the vet went to get the medicines to put him down, and I held Hughie as he sat on the table.

And that is when we had our last conversation.

Hughie usually kissed me "goodnight", because I would carry him up on the couch each night to watch TV and at bedtime I'd hold his smoosh face and he'd kiss me, then I'd carry him to his crate. But I wouldn't say he was a smoochy kind of dog. So that is why this last conversation was poignant.

As I waited for the vet, I talked to Hughie and told him what a wonderful journey we had together here, and now he was the one that had to journey on without me, but I told him to look for Huck. He kissed me. Then I told him I was sorry, and he kissed me. I told him I could not see him be in pain anymore, and I felt I had to help him on this journey. And he just kissed and kissed me, slowly, very gently. It was not like him to do this much, but I truly believe he was thanking me, and telling me,

It is OKAY. I am okay. Please don't feel badly, thank you for doing this.

I suppose someone will tell me it was salt in my tears he liked. But Hughie never kissed me when I had salty lips from ketchup or even chicken.

I brought Hughie home to bury him, but was so tired emotionally I wrapped him in a blanket and lay him on the couch. That night, I told Martyn I wanted to watch television with him one last time. This is not like me, I am pretty resilient about death, and find the burial procedure helpful, and beautiful really-the full circle of a life in my hands as I cover it in beautiful Mother Earth. I think I knew his time was coming all week and had some conversations already with Martyn and the vet, and Hughie, but I had not quite accepted it was here, on that given day...I just wanted one more night to have my left hand on his little pug bowling ball head, rubbing his soft ears. His body was still pretty warm.

Martyn was up before dawn and dug me a hole in my hollyhock bed. I buried him without fanfare after morning chores-morning chores that were full of living and breathing charges. AS usual, I told everyone as I did chores that Hughie was gone. I spent time with Marcella. And when I was out with the equines, Pino stood five feet from me, away from the herd, just staring at me. I was too tired to sit with him. But I know he was acknowledging my sadness, that is Pino.

And so, once again, I am pugless for the second time. But Hughie is okay.

Last Christmas

And on this day....a pug was born

Today is The Old One Eyed Blind Pug's 12th birthday. I had to wait until he was almost nine to have him in my life, but it was worth the wait. Besides, I had another Old One Eyed Pug I was caring for then. To be able to have had two of these creatures in my daily life is such a gift.

The two pugs are very different from one another. Billy, the first pug, was born to a farm family in Minnesota. He was much needier than Hughie is. Hughie was in a home of a couple and my recollection is they fought quite a bit and Hughie often ended up alone, contained in a room. In some ways, I think this made him even braver than he might have been. At some point, Hughie was run over by accident by a delivery truck, and that is how he lost his one eye, and became blind. Or he was somewhat blind from birth due to a congestive disease that was not cared for properly, so he went blind soon after losing the eye. A kind woman took Hughie on because the couple was not caring for him properly. But she herself was not in good condition and was very limited in bending over and such-and with a small blind dog, you do a lot of bending over to help them. She didn't want to, but she decided she had to rehome him to the right person.

At the time, I had been pugless for about three years. Being pugless after you have been pugged is a sad state. Pugs really get into your heart. I wasn't exactly looking for another pug, but I always said if an elder or needy pug came along, I'd take him. So I was minding my own business, and a friend emailed me about this pug that was on Old Dog Haven, a wonderful place out west that helps rehome elder dogs out of shelters. When I saw his face, and that he was blind, with one eye...well, it was like my old pug was hitting me over the head,

Pick up the phone now!

And I did. I talked to the woman that needed to rehome him, and there had been a person interested, but as I talked to her, she changed her mind and knew she wanted me to have him. I'm so grateful for that. Another of my friends, who I lovingly called my Goat Hauler, as she had driven several goats to me from Seattle area to Apifera, a 12 hour round trip- she met me halfway in Tacoma, and the pug known as Hughie entered my life.

He was so well behaved, so brave and unafraid of his new home. He immediately adapted to navigating the rooms and areas he could not see. He never whined, and you could also tell that if you raised your voice, he cowered a bit. Like I said we had heard he'd come from a fighting home, so it took him awhile to understand when we yelled at the TV, it was not about him. We yell at the TV a lot these days, so we also balance it with lots of soothing talk. When we came across the country from Oregon to Maine, Hughie rode with Huck and Mud in the backseat, and each night we slept in a different barn stall, with the dogs, the barn animals remained in the large trailer. Hughie was just a little champ, content to sleep in his bed that he knew so well, even if it was in a barn that he could not see. He enjoyed french fries on the trip, and now in Maine he gets a banana each morning which he relishes, reminding me to relish my banana too.

Hughie is completely blind but he lives a wonderful little enchanted life. He is carried out to the garden in the morning, does his business and comes in and eats. Then he naps in one of his many day beds. At night he is lifted onto the couch to watch tv with us, and that is after he helps Martyn chop any vegetables for dinner. He has a sweet little call of 'Woo-woo" he does when he excited or happy. He is no pushover.

I would tell anyone who finds a blind dog that needs a home-don't turn away. They do not need your pity, they need you to see them as a possible wonderful addition to your family. They are resilient and have other senses that help them navigate. I have so many blind animals, and not one of them is a burden, each of them brings me joy and also reminds me that physical challenges in man or beast do not close the door to being a contributing member of a household.

I love you Hughie. I am so glad I am not pugless. I am so glad you are here with us.

Daily love fest

Their wool coats keep them warm

All is well after we got some more snow, temperatures are rising and I swear I smelled some spring in the air. A girl can dream. Here are some faces you've come to know in love, spending their days as they should, true to their own souls. And the new elder goats have been named! Girl George for the hermaphrodite, Frieda [which means 'elf strength] and Else-they are all wonderful goats, I love them.

Hilde on the left and Friede on the right

Hughie never tires of sun naps

And the White Dogs get their weekly wolf play date

The Old Blind One Eyed Pug has a therapy gig

I decided to take Hughie down to the nearby village of Round Pond to visit with one of our elder homes, a private residence for six elders. I have taken Opie there several times, and Pino, but with the winter weather decided the old pug would be a perfect therapy guy-and he is. I knew he would be. He sat contently on my lap as I sat by various residents and chatted, while he napped, often with his head on someone's lap or arm. I was so proud of him. I did not take photos, but when we drove home, I took this one of the healing pug. right after, his little eyeball had a hard time staying open, he needed a nap.

I really felt like it a turning point visit for me. We talked openly and honestly about how people see elders as...old people...and forget, or fail to recognize these are people like you and me that had full and vibrant lives at one time, and still do if they are given the opportunity. I think part of it is it is uncomfortable for people that are not elderly yet to see what is coming, the fear of maybe having to give up independence is frightening to all of us, so instead of including elder residences into our lives, we hide from them-out of fear of what we might face.

Yesterday I sat on the couch next to Barbara who was born in Round Pond in 1932. She is always very quiet when I visit there, and has always been on that same spot on the couch. She often is awake, but closes her eyes and doses a bit, but she has her ears open and pops to life. Yesterday, the pug laid his head on her arm and napped while we all chatted. As we were all talking, I asked Barbara what she did in Round Pond all her life,

"Oh, I was just anybody," she said.

And of course we all said that was not true. The manager, a very nice woman I am getting to know, jumped in and told me that Barbara was a writer, which of course I was interested in. She likes to write stories, often in rhyme, about people she knew in the little village. They brought in a pamphlet of some of her writings and it was really wonderful to read them. It also allowed Barbara to open up more-it was the most I've ever heard her say.

Libby came to the residence because she ended up in a wheelchair after surgery at some point, and she knew she could no longer live alone in her home, and she loved her home. She is still trying to sell it three years later and it is a strain on her. I could hear the sadness in her voice when she talked about her house on an island, but she also said she was so lucky to live in this residence which is in an old village house.

We talked about how infuriating it is to be treated like a baby when you are elderly, as if you lose all your marbles or ability to think. I found out two of them are knitters and told them about my Old Kitty Knitty Club and they said they could help me learn new stitches.

The six residences, each of them in a small village including the one in Wiscasset that Opie and I go to, are not allowed to have animals so they told me how much the visits mean to them.

I left our get together feeling like Hughie had added something to their quiet day...it added something to mine too. We are all in this together, this thing called life, this process of aging. I do not want to fear the coming years, I want to be vibrant, and share that vibration with others. I hope I can live independently, like my mother who died at 87. But it might not be up to me. In the meantime, I will recognize, or try to seek out, the vibrancy in each elder as I get to know them more.

[If you like the work we are doing helping old animals, but also sharing them with elderly people, please consider a donation to our non profit]

Christmas faces-our feelings get worn on our sleeves

It's really like any other day here, the routine is the same no matter the occasion. It's the routine the animals come to expect, the routine that keeps them feeling secure in knowing food is on the table morning and night and water buckets that iced over are replenished.

We are in the middle of another big storm. I'm grateful we aren't traveling or even driving a short distance. Just getting to the barn in the winds and hard pellet snow was a nippy endeavor, and there are slick spots [but thanks to some loyal Apiferians I have really good boot cleats that work wonderfully].

As I came back from the barn this morning, I took time to just stand in the field, the wind howling, the tree limbs bending with a light layer of ice from yesterday's morning rain. I breathed in deep, I felt it all, I left myself in it all. It was seconds, but is part of the wonderful time between Christmas and New Year's, like I said in my post yesterday-it is full of hope, and plans. I have a personal challenge I am determined to face, and I told the sky realm keepers I was going to do it. I felt strong.

I took extra time in the cat room too, grooming Maxine, sitting with the new arrivals, talking to them all, or not, just sitting. When I came in it was already lunchtime and I had a cup of Martyn's homemade soup he left for me.

I am loved.

The dogs were watching me. Time for some more Christmas Garland festivity and I wrapped The Old Blind One Eyed Pug in it. The way Mud looked at me, the way the pug looked at him...it's Christmas, every feel gets worn on our sleeves.

When you just have to squeeze into the old baby bed

Ah, I know how that is, kind of like really wanting to wear my favorite pants from ten years ago...Hughie still loves to sleep in this baby bed that was actually for Itty Bitty Etta. Always melts my heart.

{We have a barn fundraiser going on - please visit the funding page as we have been given a generous matching donation dollar for dollar up to $10,000.}

Nor'easter!

We are all snuggled down and battened in for our first real nor'easter. Martyn is like a kid in a candy store, checking snow depths and watching wind patterns. It's really sweet to watch him. We have our fire, the animals are hunkered in and we'll see how much we get on top of the 6" or so we had in last few days.

As you can see, Hughie is content. We are amused at how he gets as close to the fire as possible. Perhaps at that distance he gets a glimmer of what light is, since he is now blind. But I'm sure it feels good on his old Pug bones.

We are the Insides

The Insides live in the house. You might know the story of Big Tony. When we arrived at the old farm in Oregon, there was a new litter of semi feels in the barn. Before I could trap the very industrious Mama Kitty-it took two years-she had another litter. The litters were all spayed and neutered, and continued to live out their lives at Apifera.

When I began trapping the cats, I never thought I'd land a 20 pounder the first day out. But there he was, lying contently in the trap, having just finished off the tuna that was placed their to entice him. He was charming and dignified throughout the entire transport to the vet for neutering. Within days of losing the responsibility of procreating, Big Tony made his way to the front porch, accompanied by several of his children. At the time, we had no indoor cat, just the dogs. Each night I'd casually alert Martyn that Big Tony was there, and each night I got him in the living room for longer and longer, until Martyn gave up and soon after Big Tony was sleeping in the bed. But not on my side. He liked Martyn's side.

It's the story that has repeated itself with Apifera cats, as it did years later with Itty Bitty.

So Big Tony is still with us in Maine. He is a complete grandpa now, losing weight off his backbone, but still able to jump. He has several favorite sleeping baskets in the sun, one in my office where he spends most of the day. But it is still Martyn he likes to attend to while we have our wine, or watch movies. He has a routine of putting his paws up stretched and staring into Martyn's eyes. Later, when I go to bed, he comes int to be with me and sleeps on my side of the bed now. Sometimes I wake with his paw on my hand.

The One Eyed Blind Pug II, aka Hughie and his chocolate sidekick have a very easy life, complete with beds by a fire, toast crust in the morning, and bowl licking at dinner. And now they have birds singing to them in the morning.

The Insides make daily life nicer.

The Old One Eyed Pug II is in love with Mrs. Revere

I call the oven in our Maine house "Mrs. Revere" and I mentioned once on social media that she really was in Paul's kitchen as a child, and hence her name. Amazingly, some people asked if there were ovens then.

There should be classes teaching a witty sense of humor.

We knew all about the oven when we bought the place. We had it inspected and were told how all the former owners 'loved it'. Short on money, we figured we'd keep it since it is safe, and work with it awhile. We have no intentions of overly modernizing the 1760 house. The kitchen is tiny. I must say I miss our old kitchen, and the way we could look out big windows to the upper fields without worry of passing cars seeing us. You have to swap out certain things in any move and grab onto the good stuff. But we found some old cupboard this week and it's a cute bug of a kitchen and has all we need right now.

Mrs. Revere is amazingly reliable for baking. I have done pies and cakes in her and cookies and all were done perfectly. She has no built in thermometer so we use a store bought one. Our turkey was perfect. She only has one rack which makes it a challenge, and there is no such thing as a simmer control. She has to be hand lit. I have to say, hand lighting the stove makes me feel closer to the process of cooking-it's like starting a fire after you chop your own wood-kind of gives cooking a more visceral quality.

Another of Mrs. Revere's skills is she keeps the place warm. The house is small, about 1500 sf, with four rooms on the first floor and two fireplaces, one of which we keep going. We have a furnace too but so far it rarely comes on during the day [that will probably change]. Mrs. Revere is both chef and heater.

Hugh likes to help cook. He is very enthusiastic about any kind of meal prep-especially when there is chopping, or sizzling. He also gets to be warm by Mrs. Revere's side.

Lessons of the old blind dog

The old blind dog seeks out a place to sit, even for moments, in a spot that will bring soothing to the bones, perhaps in dappled sunlight, or up on a perch where he waits to hear a familiar voice,

"I'm here, you're okay, do you need help?"

He often does. And I gather him up and we sit together on a nearby bench, taking it all in, both of us feeling a shift in the breeze or the landing of flies on our bodies.

He doesn't have an agenda for the day, once he eats. He is happy to be here, blind, using his other senses to navigate his time. I don't think he worries, because he has the consistency of my presence, and my voice to help him if he needs it. To have a reassuring voice in your life if you need it–what a gift.

I carry him inside so I can do more work on the new barn. But when I come outside, I sit on that same rock, looking out onto a field I hardly know. It was a warm rock though. And I see Martyn out in the distance, on the tractor, he waves. It was a sign language of reassurance.

Hughie suffers

Hughie fell prey to vertebrae disk inflammation and we made a visit for the first time in Maine to a vet. I had been through this with the Old One Eyed Pug back in Oregon but he was much older. Hugh is going to be ten and Pugs are prone to this disease as are certain breeds of dogs, often the small ones.

It is so sad to see a sad Pug. Something about their faces just exhibit sheer pain and gloom when they are under the weather. As someone who suffered the greatest pain in my life last year with a sprained back, I know what these ruptures can feel like. The poor fellow cries out in the morning when he is picked up or has to get up so he can be carried down the step. By mid morning after his meds he is doing better. He is on bed rest, for 4-6 weeks, that is really the main thing that is needed. The anti inflamatories and muscle relaxers will help manage his suffering. If it continues with morning crying, I will revisit the vet. She did not want to use steroids, and I know the last pug had a real problem with them. But if he is suffering, we shall see. At least he is getting relief.

Moving to a new state, with this many animals, is always unsettling when you need a vet, especially if someone is suffering. The vet was fine, although it made me miss all my vets I had in Oregon, only because they knew me so well. I am sure in time it will be like that here, I hope.

I guess it comes do to trust, trust in new people, doctors, friends, contractors and service people. You don't really know who to listen to and like a dog, you have to sniff people out, then decide who to trust. It is all part of the discombobulation of a big move...in time, you put the pieces back together of your own infrastructure and things smooth out.

Doctor, can you do something about my baby's face?

Every night the dogs run and we let Hughie out and despite his blindness he is fearless and knows his territory. We let him be a real dog, although I am not sure pugs are real dogs, they are mystical little beasts. When we are ready to sit on the porch, we go grab Hughie and carry him back to the deck, always in this pose.

Hughie will do great on the trip, he likes the car and will have his little bed. I have no worries about him acclimating to the new place. He did so here in record time for a blind dog. He is such a delightful little fellow.

Blind pug humor

Hughie is pretty funny. Because he is totally blind, he relies on scent and hearing, of course. So sometimes when I am cooking and all the dogs are at my feet, I look down and see Huck and Mud facing me, but the little blind man is sitting in the opposite direction.

It always amuses me.

I continue to have many moments, where I look down at the pug in my lap, and think,

I'm so happy to have a pug again.

The Moon....is Hughie's eyeball

I'm sure many of you witnessed the beautiful eclipse last night, The Blood Moon. But here at Apifera, I held Hughie the One Eyed Blind Pug up to the window and said,

"There it is, there is your eyeball."

It is something that many of you probably don't know-the story of The Giant One. While I have shared it here before, through the voice of the former One Eyed Pug, I will share it again in honor of the momentous occasion last night. So here it is, as told by our former pug, who lives on each full moon.



The Giant One
In which The One Eyed Pug I shares a secret of his breed, knowing the audience of this blog is open to the many mysteries of the universe, or at least is not judgmental.

As a young pup I knew my daily life was unique, as I could see much more like a fly. While I was often ridiculed by even the best of friends, I just got used to the stupid comments. People are much worse than the creatures with what they think are humorous pokes at my facial look. "Did you run into a wall?", they'd asked, in that baby talk voice they use on their own fledglings. I got so tired of it. At some point, I just couldn't stand it, and I took to passing gas, silently of course, if they told a joke about my face.

I lived just fine for many years with my over weight eyeballs, until one day, while living in the presence of the chocolate lab named after a pie, I was partaking in a good game of 'run around the tree really fast". As usual, I was slower, but since I am much smaller, was able to trip the big chocolate fellow up. This unfortunately caused him to fall, and I don't know if it was his toe, or a stick, or grass, that grazed my bald eyeball. But whatever it was, my eyeball fell ill, and did not improve. The Two Footers squeezed cool liquids and medicines into my aching orb, but one day later, my eyeball felt so heavy and so strange like it was swirling outside my head. When blood squirted out after one medicine was applied, the Two Footer rushed me into the Medicine Keeper in town.

They shot giant streams of light into my aching eyeball. I knew already what this meant. Our breed is forewarned even before we are born, in dreams and embryonic classes, on what life is often like with our bulging eyeballs. We know that there are many obstacles to our eyes. And we are raised to appreciate every day with out having something run into our eyeballs.

So by the tones of the Two Footer, and all the kisses I was getting, I knew my eyeball was moving onto the Great Place to live amongst stars and other magnificent orbs. This did not worry me. I knew my eyeball would be returning to where it originated, to The Giant One in the night sky. The Two Footers call it a moon, and they say it orchestrates tides of the ocean. The Giant One sends off little eyeballs to all the earthly mother pugs precisely at the time she gives birth.

We pugs don't bother to tell the Two Footers that our eyeballs are born from their moon, because we know most would scoff at it. But I am sharing it here with you, in case you live with a pug, so you can be more respectful of 'full moon' nights. We pugs call it "Giant One Calling" night. For once a month, on the full moon, all pugs instinctively gravitate to the garden, or window seat, and sit amongst the loving shinings of the moon.

And for those pugs who have lost an eye, or are blind, they turn their heads towards the sky, feeling the orbs hitting their heads, and in pride and comfort they know their eyeball is now with the Giant One. It will be nourished by starlight, and in time, it will return to another mother pug, and placed in a young pup to once again see earthly delights.

When the blind pug dresses

Last year, people sent their old dog coats to help me keep the Misfits warm and dry if needed. Many of the coats were way to small for any Misfits, and probably too big for chilled lambs, so I donated the teeny tiniest ones, but kept some smaller sizes...just in case.

And then Hughie came into my life. And like any Pug, he prefers some warm attire in the chilly season. So this outer jacket will make him cozy–when he's not under a blanket with me!

Hughie is just a wonderful little chap. I can't say it enough. There is rarely a day that goes by that I don't look down at him in wonder and joy and think,

I'm so happy to have a Pug in my life again.

Blind pug pie prep

For the record, the Walnut Pie I made yesterday had some of the best crust ever. It should be an exceptional year for my pie!

Hughie fits right in. I prepped the many pie crusts yesterday and he and Huck were right there at my feet. Hughie took it upon himself to snorkle up any dropped flower and Huck was more about bits of scrap butter flying around.

I can't tell you much I love having an old pug around again, and Hughie is his own man. He has fit in so smoothly, such a courageous guy being totally blind and all. he's been through so many changes this year, I'm just so proud of the little tater tot. He really is good with the layout of the house, can do the stairs slowly on his own and has a routing now.

He and Huck have almost become elder buddies, as Huck is a year or two older and getting very grandpa like. In the morning, I let Hughie out on his won, and Huck comes up and sits by my side while I eat my yogurt and banana and then he gets to lick the bowl. It is written that this is the way and has been the way for years.So then Hughie is let in but I've been letting him in before i eat breakfast, so now Hughie and Huck are at my side, and Hughie tries to outsmart Huck for the best seating arrangement. It's very funny. But Huck still gets the bowl, and Hughie gets the spoon. Mud goes to sleep on the couch.

Today I will be dashing about, okay dashing like a donkey-methodically- getting fabric hangings and signs up, the porta potty will arrive and the Puppet is waiting at the gate for it.

Much to do. Pie baking begins tomorrow.

Pino Pie Day is a fundraiser that helps maintain The Misfits. Donate or buy at gift levels if you are able. Thank you to the people who subscribe to this blog or have given kindly when emergency needs arise. And thank you for buying art and books so I can make a living and do what I do.

When llama meets one eyed alien

Lady Birdie met the Old One Eyed Pug II last night.

What's this? she asks.

Is someone there? says the pug.

I'm up here, says the llama.

Can't you read? My tag indicates I am blind, says the pug.

Well, I was blinded by the light shining off your one eyeball, forgive me, she says.

It's okay, the pug responds, you sound very tall.

I'm tall like a short giraffe, she says.

Wow, says the pug. I think I saw those on Wild Safari when I had two eyes.

Birdie reached through the fence to sniff him. And that was the end of the discussion. She then walked over to the magical double dutch door created to transport people to a different level of donkey understanding on Pino Pie Day, where she stood posing in her I'm darn cute I can't help it pose.

Happy pug, happy tail

Hughie once known as Hewie and otherwise now referred to as The One Eyed Pug II not to be confused with the original never to be replaced One Eyed Pug is doing just wonderfully.

This is one smart pug. And, incredibly solid in his demeanor. Everyone who works with him seems to fall in love with him. He is very different than the first One Eyed Pug, in that he is less needy for starters. I think due to Hughies' first home where I think he was left a lot alone in a room due to his blindness, he had two choices-get needy or be calm. He seems to have gone the calm route. He has learned to navigate the house-which is mainly one floor so works out great for a blind fellow. I was amazed how fast he has adjusted. He has a bed in the main kitchen/living area so he is always with the gang. Like most pugs, he likes to be with his people-but what is great is he is very adjustable so if I go to the barnyard for long spells, I have crated trained him [he actually was fine with the crate when he arrived so already was crate oriented-I'm strong believer in crate training].

He is pure love and acceptance. He knows my voice and now that he knows the layout I don't have to always have him on his lead, for safety. I created a Hughie Garden-basically a puppy pen in the grass where he can lay about in the shade if I need to work in the garden, but he can still hear me. He sits on the chair with me and the heating pad at night for our glass of wine, by the fire, and then moves into the living room at night for television watching, on the couch of course, with old Huck in his spot. Martyn still gets to squeeze in with his girl, no worries.

I don't know how it happened, that the stars were aligned just right to bring him here, but they were. To all who helped make it happen, thank you again.

On Tuesday, Hughie and his eyeball will be going to the vet to have a back tooth removed. I had noticed bad breath when he arrived and checked his teeth. My last pug had horrible teeth from a young age, Hughie is from better breeding for sure. His teeth are really good, except he has a split tooth which is half rot, so we will take it out on Tuesday, and he will be able to return home that afternoon. We did a senior blood panel on him Thursday and he was a gentleman with the vet. She is hooked, just like the last vet who saw him.

Hughie, Hugh Pugh, Pug, Hey Mister- all these names are known to him now around here. He is very happy, and feels secure now evidenced in his happy pug tail.

Happy pug tail (copyright Apifera Farm)

A video posted by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 17, 2015 at 3:09pm PDT

Love returns with a one eyed pug

There was a part of me this past week that felt that the universe was taking away things to make room for what was needed. I have been telling close friends that things are shifting here, I am accepting some new visions for the coming decade. There is a reason this old pug came to me, and it was part of that 10-year plan, he just got here sooner than I thought.

It all happened in a day.

A friend sent me a link to a cross posting on Old Dog Haven...of an older one-eyed-pug needing to be rehomed. I make a point never to look at online ads or rescue sites, for many reasons.

I gasped. Then sighed, then stepped away to do chores. I had made a plan to have a pug again, and always swoon at photos of friend's pugs online, or when I see one walking somewhere. But my plan was to wait until Huck passed, so only two dogs would be in the house. Huck is ten and I hope to have him with us for a few more years if he's able. Muddy is five. I had felt that Huck deserved to live out his final years without pug puppy torturing him, but had never considered how an older pug might be a delightful addition for the elder Huck-and this is seeming to be true as the new-old pug is settling.

But it just seemed too much of a fit, too much a gift–especially after the last two weeks of saying goodbye to so many creatures one after the other. So I emailed and got in touch with the current foster mom, an elderly woman who had been caring for the pug for a few months, and adored him. Sadly, she felt it was not in the dog's best interest to keep him, because she was very unhealthy, arthritic and had trouble lifting the pug-and because the pug is totally blind, he needs to be lifted at certain points. She wasn't going to give him to just anybody, and wasn't in a hurry, but when we talked she knew she had found the right person.

So I organized a Pug Pickup with a good friend to Apifera, who agreed to drive from Seattle to Bellingham [2 hours] and then down to Tacoma [3hours] to meet me. It really helped me out as I could make the round trip 7 hours in one day, and alone. She has also hauled a goat down to me and is just a love. Thank you, dear Lisa.

The anticipation-even though only 3 days would pass before agreeing to take the pug and getting him-was so great I had heartburn and was even emotional at points as I made the drive. I knew of course this was not Billy, it looked like him, that's for sure, but I knew I was not bringing home my old dog. But I was so excited, so touched to be able to have found this pug. He's nine years old but in very good shape. His teeth seem good and even though he is blind he is just a trooper, but very calm and polite. And quiet so far-unlike the original One Eyed Pug who snored liked a pirate and farted like a squeaky toy [constantly]. The gas passing will most likely come when One Eyed Pug II starts eating more normally again. His given name is Hughie and so far we are sticking to that although you know what happens around here-I'm sure he will have many addendums to his given name.

Hughie arrived with his own luggage-blankets he liked, a crate, a cushy bed, his favorite toy, special treats and food. He even has a special dog tag that says, "I am blind". There was also a touching letter from the foster mom, who wrote everything I'd need to know,

He likes his chin scratched. He barks at trucks but knows the UPS driver. He likes a little bit of turkey, but in tiny bites.

He slept by our bed last night as a trial run. He had slept in the owner's bed in his former life, but I was not going to allow that. We already sleep with two cats on our heads and its unfair to Martyn-and I like my bed, it's our bed, our boundary. I had his crate ready in case, but he slept all night without fuss. Morning rituals will be a bit complicated-Martyn always gets up early and feeds the dogs, but I will be in charge of Hughie, he needs someone to be with him since he is so blind. I might try to redo the back so I can leave him safely for 15 minutes. And what snoring he did was very civil. Martyn snores like a freight train. This was a relief since I have one on my left and one on the right.

What is really sweet is to witness his personality emerging as he settles, and he and the elder statesman, Huck, played a bit this morning. Itty sat up on a chair watching. I'm sure each animal smells different to another, so they know this is not Billy. But you wonder their thoughts. Both Itty and Huck were close to Billy-he was nursemaid to the then 1# Itty when we found her, he was hospice nurse with them during lambing. Itty seems enthralled, but has so far not gone to Hughie to be suckled like she continued to do with Billy through her adulthood.

I'm really exhausted. All the trauma of the last weeks-caring for Earnest the pig [who seems to be back to his normal self, thank the pig gods!], trying to help the prolapsed Henrietta and having to put her out of her misery, losing baby chicks and then care taking the surprise clutch of one of the Banties, losing a Bottumtum to an eagle, and then-losing Stella. So today, I took extra time with everything. I made banana bread to warm the house and give the new-old pug the scents of a good, nurturing home. He's lying near me as I type, in one of the original One Eyed Pug's mini beds, snoring lightly, with Huck at his side.