Dog Story

Batman's Last Photoshoot 8-23-12

I used to think the perfect dog story would be one where the dog did not die in the end. That would be a wonderful story, but it is not the story of dogs. Their lives are brief, way too brief for our liking. Even those that live to a ripe old age in dog years are here only for a fraction of ours. Little Batman did not live to a ripe old age. He died today, only five weeks old.

Anyone who has puppies knows that this is not uncommon. Some die during birth, others a few days or few weeks later. Some fail to thrive, others may be squished by their mothers or do not come out of their sacs fast enough. There are many things that lead to early deaths and one could easily harden their hearts to it, recognize that's just the way it is. If you deal with puppies often enough there has to be some acceptance of this. None of us did this with Batman.

I named him because from the get go he looked even more Bat-like than the other pug puppies, something about his head and the way his hair stood up in the middle almost in a Wolfman fashion. His tiny upright ears also gave him that Bat-like appearance. He was the smallest of the litter of six -- one of his siblings, a big girl died at birth, but he lived and was precocious -- the first to open his eyes, the first to walk. But, from the beginning he had trouble nursing, continually being pushed out of the way by his bigger brothers and sister.

His breeder, my friend Joan, helped him out by subsidizing his nursing with goat's milk fed from an eyedropper and by placing him back on his Mommy's breast. He seemed to grow, but not as rapidly as his siblings. Then a little over a week ago, when I was visiting Joan, I realized that Batman was having trouble breathing and that his Mommy and siblings were now ignoring him all together as if he were invisible. Not a good sign. Did his siblings reject him because they knew something was wrong? Maybe, because something was.

Joan separated from the pack and began caring for him round the clock. I gave her my puppy crate, lined with sheepskin and we created a warm bed for him there, taking him out occasionally to be with his mom and siblings who seemed to allow him to snuggle with them when they were tired enough. Still, his little body seemed to heave in and out in a funny fashion each time he took a breath and Joan brought him to the vet.

The prognosis did not look good. The vet did not see any congestion and said that while it could be an infection of some kind it was more likely that the little guy's breathing passages were not developing properly and that he was only getting about 20% of the air he was breathing. Joan feared she would have to make a decision to put him down, but wanted to give him a chance to see if he could develop and also, to make sure it was not an infection. Last night when I called her, he was snuggling with her on the sofa. He became excited when she brought his plate of food out and had one final big meal before he died. "You could tell how happy he was," Joan said, "he loved to eat, but he would tire quickly."

He didn't seem to visibly worsen, one moment he was alive, the next he wasn't. Joan went to pick him up and realized what had happened. She told me this morning when we spoke. This was not the first puppy that had died since I had known Joan, each time I call her I ask for an inventory to make sure everyone of her many pugs is alive and well, but Batman is one of the hard ones.

For such a little guy, with such a very short life, he won the love of many hearts. I had almost taken him home. Joan had decided to keep him or give him to our friend Norma, her pugsitter, who had already bought him a nametag. People loved to hear his story. His bigger, gorgeous siblings almost faded into the background when we spoke of him. So much charisma for such a small pug, so much love for such a brief life. One shouldn't grieve a puppy that shone so brightly. Life is precious, fragile and brief, it both breaks the heart and gives it shape. Batman was here and now he's gone, but he mattered, he lived and in five quick weeks, he charmed us all.

Fairies on the Prowl

My niece Tori visited this evening and played with the puppies. All donned their wings and there were fairies on the prowl.

Under the Weather

Batman, the tiniest puppy in my friend Joan's litter, is under the weather tonight. His brothers and sisters, who are bigger than him have practically given up on nursing and are chasing all the adult pugs away to get their dinner at night. Poor Batman wants to nurse. His siblings walk right over him as if he isn't there. Joan is giving him TLC and feeding him goat's milk. He remains significantly smaller than his siblings. Joan says she is lighting a candle for him. I am saying prayers.

Making Friends

Waffles and Maria Wulf bond after our writers' luncheon at Bedlam Farm.

Monkey Girl

Waffles on the Porch of Bedlam Farm

Like I said before, I know a pug isn't a child, but sometimes they have a way of filling us owners with a parent's sense of pride or shame. Today, my new pug, Waffles, should have filled me with pride. We attended a three-hour luncheon and writers' meeting at Bedlam Farm, home of writer Jon Katz and his wife, artist Maria Wulf, where she was the epitome of decorum.

Waffles has not had much opportunity to get out and about, so I was a little nervous about her behavior. I needn't have been. She sat at my feet throughout the whole meal only stirring occasionally. "She's so good," everyone murmured throughout the afternoon and she was.
"She is," I replied, "as long as I'm here with her, but leave her alone..."

I don't think anyone believed me. They had been reading on my blog about the Great Pugdini, the escape artist and the Devil Dog, and here sat a perfect angel, tolerant even of the denim dress I mad her wear.

So instead of being proud that my little girl impressed my colleagues, I was ashamed she wasn't putting on more of a show. I tried to explain to them that only moments before our arrival she had been swinging around the backseat of the car like a monkey. I have two doggie car seats in the rear of the car -- one for Alfie and one for Waffles. The car seats are designed to allow the tiny pugs to see out the windows while also securing them in place by a hook attached to their harnesses. Waffles has learned that if she flings herself in the air and hangs she has a chance of freeing herself. Thus, I had to stop three times on the trip to lift her back in place. After the last try, I finally let her loose to sit on the front seat, not safe for her if there were to be an accident and the airbag deployed, but it kept me from slipping into the wrong lane as I tried to monitor her in the back seat.

Waffles, however, was not content with that solution and kept jumping to the floor and slipping under the gas pedal and brake. A really bad idea, so I had to pull over a fourth time, take the hook from the back seat nad hook her to the front, where she sat until we arrived at Bedlam Farm.

On the way home, she started the procedure again. My little Monkey began swinging from seat to seat like a chimpanzee on a trapeze. I sighed, wishing that Jon Katz and the crew were in the car to witness the true nature of my dog. Then again, it probably wouldn't have mattered, she had already done her work and charmed them. Come to think of it, charming is the true nature of a pug, so I guess the little girl did me proud after all, but please believe me when I say, she doesn't always wear that face.

***For Jon Katz's version of today's events and to see a pic he took of Waffles and me check out his blog at www.bedlamfarm.com

A view of the interior of my car. Waffles hanging from her harness.

Pug Rescue

Yesterday I met in White River Junction, VT with Green Mountain Pug Rescue to photograph a transport of 10 pugs and two Yorkies coming into the rescue from Missouri and Arkansas. GMPR wanted pictures taken quickly to put up on their web site to help get the word out about them.
I had never done this before and was unsure what to expect. Yes, I was nervous, but also excited and curious.
I arrived at McDonald's early, at 5:45 p.m. for the 6:30 p.m. delivery and decided it made more sense to go across the street and grab a bite to eat rather than sitting in the hot parking lot waiting. When I returned at 6:27 p.m. there were no pugs in sight. I checked my phone and discovered that the transport time had changed to 6:00 p.m. and I worried I had missed it. Fortunately, I hadn't. After some worried Facebook messaging and phone calls I discovered that the transport had arrived at the nearby Comfort Inn instead. Directed to the back of the parking lot, I arrived to controlled chaos. The first thing I spotted was the huge transport truck. One of the volunteers informed me that a retired couple had renovated a large horse trailer and were spending their time transporting dogs across the country to rescues.
Volunteers milled around several x-pens of whirling pugs most of which were scratching away at sore, balding bodies. It seems most of the rescues have either mange or a severe flea allergies. Several also had eye problems. The head of the rescue was teary-eyed and said that this was one of the worst groups she had seen in her 10 years of rescue. I quickly went to work shooting photos of the little ones while the foster families moaned over them, shocked and worried over their condition.
I understand how they felt. The poor little creatures were unable to stand still, they were scratching so hard, and yet, there was something else I noticed. In spite of their conditions and skittishness, these were still pugs and many were demonstrating such "pugish" characteristics as friendliness, gregariousness, curiosity. Some, if not all, might have been nervous, but they also seemed happy, doggy, with tails a waggin'. I know it was hard for the rescuers and foster families concerned with vet bills, logistics and the plight of all the other pugs who go unrescued to see, but my distance behind the camera gave me the vantage point to see the the potential of the dogs in front of me, many of which seemed friendly, happy even. Yes, they may have some rough days ahead as they heal and certainly the rescue faces financial challenges in caring for them, but these pugs will be pugs and it made me think a bit about resilience and survival and how personalities and souls can remain intact and thrive even when bodies don't.
Green Mountain Pug Rescue http://www.greenmtnpugrescue.com is taking donations toward the care of these pugs and it is much needed. I respect the work this group does, the long hours they put in and the tears shed. These dogs are lucky dogs for their effort. As dogs they know how to wag their tails in the face of adversity and enjoy themselves when they sense the opportunity. They do not live as victims. They may hurt and itch, but they also lick and love and I am happy I got to witness that.

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Where Does that Path Lead

I've been asked by Green Mountain Pug Rescue to come photograph a transport of pugs coming into Vermont tonight. They are getting 12 in at this location and another three in at Troy and since it is such a big group they want individual shots and to get photos up as soon as possible in order to find homes for them.

 Green Mountain Pug Rescue is a wonderful organization and very efficient, so I'm sure they will have everything under control, but a friend already wrote me on Facebook that she pictures me with a catcher's mask and mitt and I hope that won't be the case. I'm still a little nervous when it comes to photographing on assignment. I know when its for a show or my own creative projects I can capture a picture that I can use, but I'm still not confident in getting the right shot everytime that I feel I need to do this type of work. Still, I'm eager to grow and this sounds like an opportunity to do so.

I first started taking photography classes with Jim Block in Enfield, NH because I was nervous about perhaps having to take photos while on assignment. That was a few years ago and since then I have been showing and selling my work, making photo collages and having so much fun. A friend once told me that some anxiety can be good for you, it helps motivate you and I have found that to be true. I'm also excited to see the pugs and help in this endeavor. My friend Joan is coming along for moral support. When you start down a road you never know where it might lead and what you see as obstacles sometimes are the very building blocks of creativity.

Doggie Duds

Weddings, showers, dinners, proms. As any girl knows special occasions require special attire, which is why Waffles and I spent this afternoon preparing for the weekend. Writer Jon Katz and artist Maria Wulf have invited Waffles to accompany me to a writers' luncheon on Sunday.
A country girl, Waffles has not had much opportunity to socialize or be socialized, so I thought perhaps some new duds might help boost her confidence and perhaps mask any poor manners. Today we explored some options. Sure, she could go au naturale and fit in nicely with the working dogs of the couple's Bedlam Farm. Although the invitation did not specify attire, au naturale is probably what our hosts are expecting. Yet, if you are going to be hobnobbing with artists and writers it seems best to make a splash. Besides, Waffles is a toy dog not a border collie and it could be argued that the work of any toy dog and especially a pug is to be cute and attract attention, which Waffles' wardrobe is certain to help her do.

Actually, Waffles did not have a wardrobe until yesterday. I went shopping with my friend and Waffles' former owner Joan and brought back a few choices, and today I raided Alfie's outgrown castoffs.

"You're turning her into a powderpuff," Joan moaned, but truth be told, Waffles' loved her modeling experience.

Unlike Alfie, who usually barks and twists in circles when I try to dress her, Waffles actually helped pick up her paws and slip them into the armholes of the dress. She wore a hat without shaking it off and trotted outside to parade around the backyard and showoff to the neighbors. We modeled a few styles -- whimsical, casual and formal. For a fun, ethereal look, Waffles donned her rainbow butterfly wings and tutu, which, while certainly cute, might be a little too playful for lunch. Her formal wear consisted of a black velvet gown accented with rhinestones, still comfortable enough for her to lounge in. Her casual option stuck close to her down home roots, featuring a denim skirt, kerchief and cowboy hat.

We have yet to make a final decision, but I think we may need to consider which outfits are available in big dog sizes because Lenore and Frieda, Jon and Maria's female dogs, may just want some fashion advice and their own full closets after this. Alas, I doubt Maria and Jon will be running out to outfit them anytime soon -- doggie wardrobes are a far cry from the topics Jon usually addresses when writing about dogs (the over emotionalizing and anthropomorphizing of animals, for example), but they do tend to play a part in the life of many toy dogs and their owners and I have been buying them for mine from the get go.

I know some people may find it silly and I am aware that my pugs are not children or dolls, but it is fun to dress them up and it brings a smile to the faces of most people we encounter. If anyone knows pugs they know there is nothing, except perhaps food, that they like better than playing the clown -- it is their work to win that smile.

I'm pretty sure that whatever outfit we choose for Sunday it will spark some conversation and some laughter and that Waffles will be in the throes of it, eating up the attention with a gusto usually reserved for chicken livers.

Peek-a-Boo Pugs

"Mama Joan" plays Peek-A-Boo with one of her five new puppies. They are growing fast. Visiting Pugdom, Joan's house, is always a treat and an unique experience. I love it there. It is as if time disappears and you are caught up in a different world where dogs rule.

Joan has anywhere between 14 and 18 pugs at any given time. Tonight, one of the puppies, Batman, was not feeling well. He is a bit congested and not nursing, so Joan and I fed him goat's milk from an eyedropper and Joan is keeping watch over him tonight.

Waffles did not seem phased by being back at Pugdom. She bounded up the stairs to greet her sister, mother and grandmother in the bedroom and checked on all the puppies, but when it came time to go home, she just as eagerly trotted down the stairs to jump in my car. "You will always have two homes," I told her.

Best Friends

Taken with my I-pad

I've written about it already, but each time I see Alfie and Waffles on Vader's bed I can't help but smile. Seeing them curled up like best friends on the bed that bears my previous dog's name completes a circle for me -- the pack is complete, my human heart is warmed.And, then I am reminded that dogs are very different. Tonight sitting on the sofa, beaming with pride at my two girls curled up beside me, my peace is shattered when Waffles suddenly leaps at Alfie sending her into frantic yips and yelps. It seems the object of contention is the bone Alfie is holding between her paws. Alfie may be putting on a brave front and she definitely seems outraged, but she quickly jumps off the couch and sits on the floor puzzled. Doggie signals are flying and she will not return to her rightful place by my side.

I am at a loss as to what to do. I try to pick Alfie up and place her on the other side of me away from Waffles, but she jumps back down. She is panting and looks upset. I get another bone so they each have one. Waffles continues to give Alfie the evil eye. I can feel the tension between them, the air is taunt as if a physical bond like a rope or chain holds them in place. There is no rope or chain, but there is something I cannot see or understand -- an unspoken language that each dog clearly understands. They are establishing pack rules, their pecking order, although I am hurt and want to intervene. I want to explain to Waffles that this is Alfie's house, she was here first and while I love them both she belongs on the sofa, too. I want to say this, but even if they understood my words it would do no good, my language is not theirs.

I watch and wait, and soon the tension dissappates. I am not sure what they have worked out. Have they forgotten their squabble? Is it settled? From previous experience with dogs I know that it is not the end for good, but it is for now. It is the first step in the two establishing a relationship that will work for them.

A couple of hours later Alfie is back on the sofa. Waffles is curled up asleep on its arm and Alfie is eating the coveted bone. Who won? I wonder, but I realize it is not about winning. It is difficult to understand any family from the outside, to understand its unspoken rules. This family is forming and although it may at times leave this human heart perplexed, I can feel the unspoken bond -- the pack is complete.