Poppy the Pug has been a completely wonderful little friend for 14 long, happy years. I never meant to have a Pug. I agreed to foster her when her owners took her to a shelter at 5 or 6 weeks of age. They wanted a Boxer, instead. My plan was to find her a wonderful home.
To be honest, she was the homeliest little puppy I had ever seen. But after about 3 days I found myself telling her, "Oh, you are SO beautiful!" Despite her wrinkled face and non-regulation un-curled tail, a sweet spirit emanated forth from her 2 pound body. In no time she had us all under her spell. And the home she found was in my heart.
She has been loved by all the other dogs we shared our hearts and home with over the years. Except Ziva, who has little use for her. Poppy and Flirt are special friends. They snuggle together, and when Flirt had her pups Poppy laid close against her, spine to spine, while Flirt labored.
She's been a sturdy, healthy little dog all this time. Other than surgery to enlarge her nostrils when she was a pup, an infected salivary gland and spay surgery, she's only ever seen the vet for routine shots. Even now she is sleek and shiny and has a sparkle to her eyes.
But Poppy is what Chris likes to call "Wore out!" She has not been able to manage stairs for years, and now is having trouble walking on flat surfaces much of the time. Although she is on heavy duty pain medication for arthritis, she is beginning to have more bad days than good.
I wish with all my might that she might go to sleep and not wake up snuggled in front of the wood stove or even sleeping next to me as she has most every night for all these years. But I will most likely have to choose to have our veterinarian come here and ease her to that final rest. And that is a decision I dread.