The Pug Who Refused to Give Up

When my kids were younger, we were a pug family.

We loved those snorty, smooshy-faced, stubborn little comedians.

One afternoon my stepson came home and said a friend had a pug they didn't want anymore.

They were planning to take him to the shelter.

Could we take him?

I didn't even think about it.

"Absolutely. Bring him over."

A little while later they pulled into the driveway.

The moment they opened the car door...

I could smell the ear infections.

That's how bad they were.

His nails had grown so long they were beginning to curl.

His coat was greasy.

He smelled awful.

And on the back of his neck was a lump the size of a golf ball.

The couple casually explained that they'd gotten him to breed.

"He just wasn't into it."

I remember thinking...

"Well, buddy...I don't think I'd be into it either."

I thanked them.

Closed the door.

Handed him to my son.

"Please give this poor boy a bath."

That was the day I met Bandit.

I didn't know it then...

But I had just met my soul dog.

The next day we went to the veterinarian.

Double ear infections.

One ear was almost completely closed.

The lump?

Cancer.

We removed it.

Two thousand dollars later, Bandit came home.

Little did I know that surgery would become a familiar part of our lives.

Every year or so another lump would appear.

Back to surgery we'd go.

Nine surgeries altogether.

The wonderful thing about pugs is...

They're basically born with extra skin.

Every surgery removed another wrinkle.

By surgery number nine, Bandit looked years younger.

Honestly...

There are a few Hollywood celebrities who would pay good money for that kind of facelift.

Bandit, on the other hand, earned his the hard way.

When Bandit first came home, he didn't trust anyone.

He kept to himself.

He wasn't interested in becoming part of the family.

Except...

For me.

Little by little he became my shadow.

My gardening buddy.

Every day he'd follow me outside, find the warmest patch of sunshine, and settle in while I worked in the garden.

We spent countless quiet hours together.

No big conversations.

No grand adventures.

Just a woman planting flowers...

...and one very determined little pug soaking up the sunshine.

Looking back, I don't think I was the one rescuing Bandit.

I think we were healing each other.

He slowly learned that people could be kind.

And I slowly learned what perseverance really looks like.

Not dramatic.

Not loud.

Just quietly getting back up...

Again.

And again.

And again.

Bandit never complained.

He never asked,

"Why me?"

He simply accepted each new day exactly as it came.

Some days brought another surgery.

Some days brought another sunny afternoon in the garden.

Both were part of his life.

Both were met with the same gentle heart.

Bandit lived to be eighteen years old.

He left this world exactly the way he lived in it...

Loved.

Even now, when I'm out working in the garden, there are moments when I can still feel him beside me.

I smile every time.

Because I know my little Bubba hasn't gone very far.

I like to think he's still following me around...

Only now he's keeping watch from Spirit instead of the sunshine.

Sometimes people ask me which animal taught me the most.

The truth is...

I don't think it's possible to choose.

But if perseverance had a face...

It would have wrinkles.

Or perhaps...

After nine surgeries...

Almost no wrinkles at all.

You May Be Wondering...

How do our animal companions continue to influence our lives after they're gone?

Love doesn't end when a life ends. The relationships we share with our animal companions continue to shape us long after they leave their physical bodies. Sometimes we find ourselves smiling at an old memory. Sometimes we sense their quiet presence. And sometimes we simply notice that the lessons they taught us have become part of who we are.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.