Tag Archives: Pug

Trying to escape Funkytown

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My daughter’s pug Waffles as an energetic pup.

I was so looking forward to my kids’ visit. Now that they are gone, I’m in a bit of a funk. I figured it out when I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to leave the house for my morning walks. I can tell my husband is a little worried about me.

Unfortunately when my two adult kids, new bride and her brother were here, things didn’t go exactly as planned. We had a heat wave and since they all live in the Bay Area, the heat doesn’t agree with them. Then the AC went out their last night in the casita and DIL got very sick.

And I got scared!

She vomited for hours. They finally decided to pack up and leave. Once she was in the AC of the car, she felt much better. I worried about her health unlike anything I’ve felt before. I realized how vulnerable she is. How vulnerable we all are.

I’m trying to leave Funkytown. We’re headed on a weekend getaway to Mexico, which is a four-hour drive away. The beach always makes me feel better. In the meantime, I have a community newsletter to complete and will keep moving.

What’s your secret for getting out of a funk?

Three years ago this week:

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I was looking back on what was going on this time of year in 2022 and 2020. Last year, we made our first trip to Puerto Penasco, the Mexican beach town near us. In 2020, we were in our Palm Springs home working from home with orders to shelter in place. My daughter was staying with us. Here is what I wrote in 2020:

9 Thoughts About Shelter In Place: DAY 21

IMG_5481One of my favorite streets on my morning walk.

21 Days. Isn’t that something? My daughter came home a few days before we got the order. I’m so glad she made it here. She’s been a joy to have around along with her fur baby Waffles. We have plenty of room to have my husband, me and my daughter all working from home — together — yet apart.

Here’s a few thoughts I have about these strange days:

ONE
I go from super calm and productive to anxiety ridden from day to day.

TWO
I’m losing track of the days and the time. Twice I have woken up thinking it’s 6 a.m. and started the coffee only to look at the clock in the kitchen that reads 11:40 p.m.

THREE
My routine of daily three pages of writing, my three mile walk and Bible readings to start my day are more important than ever. All three help me stay grounded.

FOUR
I’m reading lots of good books. Sitting in my back yard in the sun reading is one of my favorite things to do.

FIVE
10,000 people have died in our country. My heart goes out to all the people suffering and losing loved ones.

SIX
We are now told to wear masks when we leave the house. I’m using a make-shift one from my quilting supplies. It’s hard to breathe during my morning walks, though, and my glasses fog up.

SEVEN
My writing jobs are completed and turned in and now I’m in uncharted territory without every minute of my day focused on meeting deadlines.

EIGHT
My daughter and I cleaned and organized the food cupboards and the laundry room. It feels good to have clean spaces.

NINE
I’m reaching out to family via phone and email. It’s important to stay in touch with your loved ones.

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My new morning walk look.

What were you doing a year ago this week? What were you doing this week in 2020?

What is it with pugs?

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Waffles the pug
Waffles last July on our Park City vacation.

My daughter called at 8 a.m. yesterday freaked out because Waffles the pug wouldn’t eat breakfast. If you know anything about pugs this is a serious sign something is wrong. I asked if she’d taken him for a walk and if he’d eaten some grass. She said, yes, he ate grass and threw up but he was still obviously in distress.

I asked if she was taking him to the vet. She said they were on the way to the emergency hospital.

It was a long day. They didn’t see Waffles until 2 p.m. My daughter missed work as a tutor which made me nervous. She’s been at this job less than a month. But what choice did she have?

That evening she called me crying hysterically. Oh no. They gave Waffles an ultrasound and found a mass in his small intestine. It wasn’t moving so they’d have to operate. They also told her it was risky because he’s a pug and they don’t always do well with anesthesia. They said he’d die without the surgery.

I haven’t been this worried since Friday getting driving through the hail storm. But this was worse. What would happen to my daughter if Waffles didn’t make it?

Waffles had surgery last night. The surgery was successful. The object was a piece of wood. What is it with pugs having to put everything in their mouths? They think anything on the ground is food. They are 100% motivated by food.

Last year when Waffles was with us during COVID shut down he ate half a package of pork chops that my husband put in the sun to defrost — styrofoam and plastic wrap included. He ate poisonous berries from the ficus tree and ended up in the ER. When my daughter was in college, he ate an adderall one of my daughter’s college friends had dropped on the floor. Another ER visit.

Waffles the pug
Waffles the pug

It’s not like he’s not well taken care of, but he is incorrigible. It literally takes one second for him to put something he shouldn’t into his mouth while you’re not looking. My daughter is blaming herself. I’ve told her it’s not her fault.

I’m relieved Waffles survived surgery. But now he’s having trouble with congestion with his flat nose. They want to keep him longer because they have to siphon out his nose every few minutes. I’m hoping for the best for Waffles and my daughter.

What happens if the emotional support animal doesn’t make it? That’s a question I’ve wrestled with overnight. My son told me this morning, “My view of dog ownership is setting yourself up for heartbreak in nine or so years.” He’s got a point.

Waffles as a baby pug
Baby Waffles

Why can’t they get along?

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Waffles graduation pic.

I’m babysitting my daughter’s pug Waffles while she’s off visiting her brother and then studying abroad in Paris and Rome. I have him under my wing until August when she moves to Arizona and takes Waffles with her. He’s a sweet little guy without much fuss or muss, most of the time.

But, we also have Olive. Olive is a seven-year-old cat, who looks suspiciously like a Maine Coone. When my daughter was a sophomore in high school, my daughter adopted the young kitty from the Palm Springs Animal Shelter. Olive has become my cat and I’m pretty attached. She’s a pretty lame hunter, and mostly goes after worms and bugs.

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Olive Bear.

The problem is Waffles and Olive don’t get along. Waffles is not quite two years old and likes to chase. Olive used to run. Then Olive would stay outside and wouldn’t come back until Waffles left. It wasn’t a long time, like a week of being an outdoor cat, while our daughter was home for Christmas or Spring Break. But now it’s going to be three months. I don’t want Olive to run away for good.

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Waffles picture on “We Rate Dogs.”

Olive has changed her behavior to hissing and whacking at Waff. But it doesn’t intimidate Waffles at all and he gets quite growly and barky. He has a big personality and gets right in her face. It escalates quickly and gets noisy and rough. I don’t understand why they just can’t get along.

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My pretty kitty Olive.

 

Do you have any advice for getting a seven-year-old cat and two-year-old pug to become friends?

 

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My favorite graduation picture of my daughter and Waffles.

 

And just like that….it’s over

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Graduation day.

I am sitting at home after my morning walk with Waffles the pug, enjoying my cup of coffee–like nothing has happened. Yesterday at this time, I was driving across the desert from Cima to Amboy. I actually love that drive through the desert Mojave National Preserve and Sheephole Valley Wilderness. There is so much vast space—desert wilderness and craggy mountains with nothing but Joshua trees and wildflowers. We saw exactly one car going our way. There were five or six heading in the other direction towards Vegas.

We left on Wednesday to drive 652 miles for our daughter’s graduation. With my recent surgery, there’s no way I could sit in a car for 10 hours, so we broke it up with an overnight stay in St. George. I keep saying that I’d like to go to the beautiful sites around St. George like Zion National Park, but we’re always on our way to Salt Lake City with no time to explore. Someday, we say.

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Walking into the Huntsman Center for graduation.

 

So, to get on with the story, we drove for two days for our daughter’s graduation. She was also moving out of the house she’s lived in for three years. Needless to say, she has a ton of stuff and although most of the work was done, there wasn’t a lot of time to relax. On the day of her graduation, we were working out where to pack and ship boxes that would not fit in her storage unit with furniture, kitchen stuff and winter tires — or either of our cars. Then graduation happened. I was shocked to see literally more than a thousand graduates in her major. We skipped the general commencement and I’m glad about that. The David Eccles School of Business was plenty long and meaningful. Then it was off to dinner with her friends at one of our favorite places, Valter’s Osteria. It’s a perfect place for a celebratory meal. And we listened to three or four happy birthday songs while we ate a delicious Italian meal.

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This guy is mine for the next three months.

 

The next morning we were up early and she was letting in the carpet cleaners and throwing away junk left by the previous year’s roommates. On the road, we stopped to say goodbye to our dear friends, my husband’s childhood friend Pastor Scott of CenterPoint Church in Orem, who’s been a surrogate dad to our daughter these past four years.

Eventually, we made it home, and I wonder where the past few days went–let alone the past four years.  I haven’t had time to process graduation, much less have time to enjoy it. All I can say is I’m glad my daughter is home for a few weeks. It feels so right to have her here–although she will be leaving soon for her next adventure in life.

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And she’s a graduate.

 

 

 

Farewell Old Car, Your Time Has Come

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kat swimmers

Memories of days filled with laughter.

The final straw was a couple weeks ago when I woke up in the morning to a flat tire. I called Triple A and had them put on the spare. I was driving the puppy to a vet appointment and then to the gas station to get my flat tire fixed, when the tire fell off the car and flew across the road, dodging two oncoming cars and landing in an unsuspecting yard.

I freaked out to a grinding and dramatic crashing noise. I was stranded on the side of the road with a three-month-old pug. I shook as I assessed my predicament and wondered what to do first. Waffles the pug snored in his carrier, oblivious to the freak accident and my stress.

That was the final straw. There have been a few others, like my husband being stuck on the 91 freeway, right before the 241 toll road, when the car broke down. Triple A had a tough time sending out a tow truck, because drivers refused due to the recent death of a tow truck driver in the same spot.

In the later years of owning a car, sometimes it’s tough to make the call when enough is enough. Car buying is almost as painful as anything and expensive, so it’s easy to put it off for a few years.

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Laguna Beach with kids and dog.

Especially with this car. There were so many memories with the beastly Sequoia. Hauling pop-up tents and kids to meets stand out the most. We could put six kids comfortably in our car and often did.  Summer vacation with the car packed to the hilt, complete with 108-pound Angus, our faithful yellow lab (RIP), camping trips, driving a carful to the Getty for a Latin field trip—the list goes on and on.

We have no need for an eight seater. We aren’t hauling pop up tents or children to meets. We’re now in the phase of life where a two-door would be fine. But it’s like closing the door on one part of our lives. When we finally say goodbye to this old car, it’s like we’re saying goodbye to days filled with so much fun and laughter.

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Carpinteria camping trip with Angus.

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This old car is filled with memories.