Pugged!

What can I say? My husband has a tender heart, and I do love him for it. He got a call from a elderly woman referred to him by a client. Her life has been upended – her husband died last winter leaving her in financial straits; she's gotten hurt trying to manage their rural property and dogs by herself; needs to sell the place and move.... She wanted her vet to put her two pugs to sleep but he demurred, offering instead to help rehome them. She said no one would take care of them like she has; she said they missed their daddy and want to go be with him. The vet wouldn't budge, so she called Rick and asked him to put them down. He has been stalling while trying to talk her down from her position, and yesterday she finally relented and said he could pick them up, take them home, and perhaps find them a new home.

Eight-year-old litter mates Woody and Rosie arrived last night. Oh, how I wish you lived within driving distance, Mary Ann! These little puggles need you, and I think you need them! They may look happy and well settled in my photos, but believe me, they are very unsure of their world right now. When Rick and Brian took them outside this morning, Woody ran off, causing great consternation among the humans and his sister. Fortunately, Rick was able to track him down (in the trees in our lower pasture!) and lure him in close enough to catch with treats and his sister as bait. Whew!

The pugs have taken over the living room for now. Our dogs are banished to the laundry room or outside to reduce the newcomers' stress, which causes our dogs much stress; it is a stressful situation all the way around! Brian, ever the acquisition baron, is campaigning to keep them, of course. I'm teetering on the edge, not desiring to stress them more with yet another move, but not at all sure they would incorporate well here. Besides, I was having trouble keeping all my plates spinning as it was....

To be continued, at . . .