THE PASSION STROLL...
a blog by author Ashavan Doyon
In November I lost the younger of my pugs, Miss Piggy. We got Piggy from a shelter when she was three years old. We were feeling guilty that our other pug, Dulcy (who was also three at the time), was feeling lonely in the world, and we wanted a friend for her, since we both work during the day.
We applied through several rescue organizations, but we could tell from the applications and the questions that we got that we weren't being seriously considered. Among the demands of some of the rescue organizations was that someone be home 24 hours a day, that we have a fenced in yard (we have eagles where we live, so a fenced in yard would have been a deceptively safe thing, especially on a remote side street like the one we lived on). It was so frustrating knowing we could have given a puppy a good home and being so blithely passed over. It went on like this for months.
Then Piggy showed up on a rescue site. We took one look and knew we had to see her. The rescue organization wanted to see her interact with Dulcy, so we packed ourselves up and went down to see her. She was such skin and bones at the time, every rib showing. And her tail! Unlike Dulcy, who has a proper pug curl, Piggy's wagged. Actually her whole butt wagged. After meeting us and speaking with our vet, we were a go to adopt her. It was so exciting. Dulcy, ever the princess, was not amused.
While I don't doubt that Piggy loved us both, it's hard to deny that she was particularly attached to me. She got desperately unhappy and upset unless we were together in the same room. She didn't want to snuggle or cuddle as Dulcy does, but she insisted on being on a cozy blanket or pillow nearby. Piggy's breathing was loud even for a pug, as she had a deviated septum. So I grew eventually very used to the cozy and very loud snoring of my Piggy keeping me company.
I've struggled for some months writing without that sound. I miss my Piggy girl. So today I'm remembering her.
The picture is the very last picture we have of her, taken at the hospital before she passed.
Writer of the mysterious, fantastic, and the romantic. Sometimes sappy. Often angsty. Always searching for the sexy. Stories about men who love men.