If I were a pug with one eye I would tread lightly in this world, understanding that my life is hanging on the fact that my remaining eye, well, remains.

If I were a pug I would have put pen to paper in my journal to detail each gory detail about how, exactly, I lost said eye. I would have made a special note on how it is best to stay in the yard for the love of safety and even though some creatures look fluffy and cuddly and similarly built, looks can be deceiving…and unbearably poky.

I would have written that down for sure. Then I would have underlined it and placed it right next to a sketch of the spiky animal who caused such misery in the first place.

Now I know if I were the pug I wouldn’t have opposable thumbs, but I would find a way. I would talk to someone. I would ask them to remind me every night before I kenneled up or snuggled on the blanket on the couch to tell me the story about how I approached a porcupine for a cordial discussion about politics only to come away with one of those needles he wears as fur poking out of the middle of my eyeball…

My favorite eyeball…

Yes, if I were the pug this traumatic event would be burned into my brain, because what followed was misery, three trips to the vet, stitches, drugs and several desperate attempts to jump out of the cone that was placed over my head to protect me from myself.

If I were the pug I would have not forgotten.

But alas, I am not the pug. I am a me, a woman who puts rolls in the oven to rise at 9 am only to discover that at 7 pm after the oven is adequately pre-heated and ready for the evening casserole, that the rolls I had completely forgotten about are done, saran wrap and all. Surprise!

No, I am not the pug. I am me, a woman who forgets things in her oven, but who will never, under any circumstances, forget how an injury occurred. I’m on my tenth or twelfth diary folks.

But the pug?

Well, the pug is the pug and the pug just happens to:

a. have a short memory
b. have balls of steel (those balls, of course, being metaphorical, because well…)
c. be an idiot
d. all of the above

And after yesterday’s events I believe I have enough information to answer the above multiple-choice question correctly.
Because as I held the stocky, determined, incredibly strong for his size, pathetic pug on the floor of my kitchen while husband worked to remove what I have documented as the third round of porcupine quills the animal has endured in his short lifespan, I grabbed my pencil and circled:
d. all of the above.

Now I admit there should have been signals that this animal’s intelligence is questionable. I admit I should have figured this was bound to happen again after witnessing how much gusto he put into chasing that raccoon off the deck…twice. And the rabbit that showed up, umm, not living, to my doorstep? Well, I’m pretty sure he didn’t commit suicide. 

So you see, I could blame last night’s incident on the lack of an eye, like maybe the pirate pug couldn’t properly assess the situation he was getting himself into. Like maybe he was blindsided… But as Pops pointed out, the fact that quills were poking out of his squishy nose right below the good eye, indicates, well he at least saw it coming. The quills inside his mouth finish the story.

The story that ends with the pug being labeled not only “idiot” but “instigator.”





Because even now as I type this I hear that shithead barking ferociously at some poor creature up in a tree or down in a coulee somewhere…

Yup, now he’s running around in circles down below the corrals, the lab on his tail, following the scent of some threatening vermin.

I just got in from screaming at him to come back, but he must have lost his hearing in that last porcupine fight. I swear to Martha, if I find myself pulling quills from that snorty snout again tonight he’s up for grabs.


A pug orphan.

Because even after a half-hour, four-way fight between me, husband, the pug and those damn porcupine quills, a fight the pug was sure was going to be the death of him; a fight that found him whimpering, bleeding, shaking, and begging us to unhand him; a fight that ended with a gallant victory by a strong man with pliers and a stunned and feeling-much-better-already-thank-you-very- much black lap dog curled up on the foot of the couch sighing deep, grateful, breaths of relief, it is quite clear that the third time is not going to be a charm.

When the pug gets in from his latest life-threatening chase, I’ll let you know what I think about the forth. And then I’ll give you the number of the mile marker where you can pick him up if you would like to take on the task of saving his life…day after day…

Cause I tell you, it would be my luck that this is the only dog in the history of the universe that has the potential to live forever… Despite the tiny brain, big balls, and all the odds.

Now, where did I put his safety goggles?

28 thoughts on “Instigator…Idiot…Pug…

  1. It has been my experience that they either learn the first time, or they eternally believe they will “get the sonofabitfch next time”.

  2. This really made me laugh. God bless dogs, and their tiny, tiny brains. Mine can’t remember anything-except the word ‘walk’. That he remembers

  3. Jessie:

    This story has childrens book written all over it! “Pirate Pug Adventure Tales (or is that Tails)–minus a few adult references and add a happy ending, or at least a lessin learned!

  4. You could send him down south to Brock Ranch in Oklahoma where he can chase armadillos for a change. We help with wildlife rehabilitation but sadly, we do not rehab pugs with a penchant for porcupine!

  5. I agree that Pug needs his own mini-series…however, when you include his macho violence, bad listening skills, provoking personality and big balls…I think HBO would be more appropriate than abcfamily

  6. You always make me laugh. I would take that bad boy in a second, but, with the coyotes, owls and red foxes that populate this place at night, he’d be no better off here. He is the cutest thing and I laugh at your pics regarding him–ole one eye (a name we use for our cat). He will never learn. Just keep loving him –the dog.

  7. Jess I think you may have missed soemething. The lab.
    I know that it may be hard to imagine but could the Pug be like the King’s “taster”? Or in this case the Lab’s “taster”. You know the guy who dies if the food is poisoned.
    I have known a few Labs and they have had a tendency to “loose” the little dog…if you know what I mean.
    Just look out for the brown dog and if you see him hangin on Pug’s blind side well…Id watch him even closer.
    Im just sayin…..

    • hmmmmm…you have a very good point. The only time the lab ever got in a porcupine he came out with one, tiny, barley implanted quill dangling from his nose and he was pretty sure it was the end of him. Yes, yes, you may be on to something. The lab is a wuss, the pug is fearless. Send the pug in first.

  8. So funny! He has such an expressive face, even with only one eye – it looks as if he’s winking knowingly. I really hope he stays away from porcupines, but I fear that’s a forlorn hope! He needs a riot shield strapped to a harness, or a coat of chain mail.

  9. But no one ever told him he couldn’t; his heart told him he must!

    OH brave, clueless Pug. Going down in a blaze of glory.

    In his previous life, I’m thinking he was a Gladiator!

  10. How did you remove the quills? A veterinarian told me to cut the ends (the ones that aren’t inside the pug) off and that makes them easier to remove. Apparently, allowing air to enter the quills makes them easier to remove.
    Not speaking from experience, mind you..
    My dogs…Samoyeds…would never tackle a porcupine. No, their favorite bark at was skunks. Many times. So often they’d immediately head for the basement and went for Mom to bathe them.

  11. Pingback: About the pug (I apologize in advance for this) | Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

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