All Hail The Patron Saint of Pug Rescue



As many of you know, I can become a little like Puglet  when Mom comes home smelling of "other pugs". I mean, it's bad enough I have had to endure the addition of two full time pugs since I was brought in as the one and only beloved pug of the house. But then, when these other pugs are stealing my spotlight, let's just say, I am not necessarily feelin' it.

Such was the case over the past week or so. One night last week Mom came home smelling of a cat, my Murphy, Brigitte's Duke, and some other foreigner. Not only that, but she left the house with a whole bag of our dog food! She thinks I didn't see her, but I totally did.

Fast forward to this past Sunday. Both the rents left the house early in the morning, and didn't arrive back until the afternoon. It was kinda like a work day, but I know it was the weekend. Weekends are meant to be spent doing things with and for ME! WTF!

That isn't even the worst of it. When the meandered through the door late Sunday afternoon, not only did they smell of a cat, Murphy, Duke and that other guy, they also stunk of two additional pugs and another stinky cat!

Enough is enough! I mean c'mon! Since when do you go hang with other pugs and exclude us. That just ain't right. I had to blast them. I sent Brigitte into full on beefulo mode. I had her start slicing off the most vile slivers of beef anyone could possibly stand. I swear, there was a green fog in the air. Humph, that'll teach 'em.

Then it happened. I had to hear the whole story. It almost made me feel bad about the noxious attack, but nah, beef is always good.

OK Dad, here's the part where you can skip.

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So, it turns out that last week when Mom went to Murphy's house, it was to meet the guy that Sluggos foster mom Sam had pulled from a local shelter where they, well...you know. She convinced the warden to let her take this guy home even though the 7 day wait period for reclaiming him had just started, so he didn't have to sleep on a cold cement floor. They had been calling him Pugsley, or some other generic name shelters like to name pugs who are lost. (no offence to the Pugsleys out there, please) She named him Henry. It seems Henry has had it rough. He is blind, and deaf, and he was having lots and lots of poop explosions. Turns out he also has luxating patellas on his hind legs. They think he is around 10 or 11, but Mom says he's in much worse condition than we senior girls. During the time when she was nursing Henry back to health, Sam contacted the folks at Prone. They searched hard, and found a family in Massachusetts who agreed to foster Henry. That's where Mom and Dad come in. They agreed to give him a ride to his new digs. Sam really wished she could keep him, but you know how high maintainance us pugs can be, plus she just doesn't have the room.

Here she is saying goodbye.

Henry was a real good traveler too. Something else we had to hear about.



Even though he was pretty content in the crate, Mom says she had to take him out and hold him because he was just too sweet.

Here he is at the rest stop, not looking back!

Here is a link to Henry's Petfinder page through PRONE



So, I guess I'm sorry for being a dick about all the strange. I guess sometimes a diva has to be reeled in. I hope that Henry finds his forever home where he can be loved and spoilt just as much as we all are.

Um, yes, that would be me, counting my blessings.

OK one more

(((((Henry)))))