This is the hardest post I have ever had to write. As y’all know, my SousPug has had a rough go of things over the past few years. Between the pancreatitis, 3 surgeries, blindness and his diabetes, he’s been a trooper. He’s been patient through everything, fought back even when the doctors weren’t sure if he was going to pull through and essentially told us in his own puggy way “Momma – I got this!”
He was a rescue pug. Long and short of it – he went through hell before he even crossed my threshold in Altamonte. Central Florida Pug Rescue rescued him from bad situations not once but twice and, by sheer coincidence, their pugs crossed our path (or the cat was high on catnip when she was playing nosy with the puggies). He had the best foster momma in the world and Wiggs adored her. However, he knew the minute he walked into my home that it was now “HIS” home and essentially told Shadow, aka the Evil Minx, to bugger off – he was in charge. It took them two years and a move from Florida to Philadelphia for them to become BFFs.
There was nothing Wiggs loved more than to be near his humans – whether it was by the stove, on the pillow or on the couch watching his fave show, Big Bang Theory. There was something about Sheldon’s voice that made his ears raise on more than one occasion. Before he got sick, he did occasionally enjoy a nibble of short rib or chili, he did have a chocolate craving once that resulted in a Momma panic mode (and who knew he liked swanky chocolate) and don’t get me started about the time I found out about his channeling his inner Peg Bundy and sneaking some Doritos.
When he got sick, it was the brilliant team at Hickory Veterinary Hospital here in Philly that saved his life – repeatedly. I always joked that he had more specialists than a human – he had 2 surgeons, a primary care vet, an ophthalmologist, an internist, and his vet techs – top of the line. He loved his doctors, his techs and his “girls” at the front desk. Every week we’d head in for his testing, and he did it without a whimper. He gave me some of my best culinary challenges as he would change his finicky appetite on the regular, forcing me to be creative in how to cook for him. Thankfully, his vet was patient and worked with me as I presented research, menus, etc. as we tried to find the best path – a pancreatic diabetic dog prone to bladder stones – not many options and definitely no room for short ribs. I will say this much – I didn’t know strength until I met Wiggs. He worked hard to fight the demons fighting in his body and, sadly, today, he finally lost the battle.
While my heart is broken, I know he’ s in a much better place and I’m thankful for it. He’s not in pain, he’s happy and that helicopter tail of his that has not wagged in a while is furiously moving back and forth. The Evil Minx has taken his position next to the stove and he will be missed dearly.
RIP my little guy – know that Momma loves you!
Mr. Wiggles aka The SousPug
(2001 (?) – 2013)
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