What appears here to be a dirty window is in fact a dirty window. And it’s going to stay dirty. Because it’s covered in pug spittle. Peanut’s pug spittle. For years and years, when Joel was close to being back at the house, we’d coordinate the timing of when I’d hold Peanut up to look…
There wasn’t one day in the six months after Peanut had passed that I was not consumed by grief. I didn’t care about anything and had little motivation to do much at all. When I wasn’t working, I’d grab Peanut’s blanket that still held her scent, lie down with it somewhere, and cry myself to…
Joel and I were seconds away from meeting the dog that was advertised for sale in the local paper. As soon as Joel opened the door to the apartment complex, a then two-and-a-half-year-old Peanut* came trotting from around the corner of an open door and down the hall. “CLOSETHEDOORSHE’SESCAPING!” I yelled. Joel replied, “She’s fine, she’s not…
Over the course of several years and trial-and-error, what we called the Potty Tent has evolved into a Potty Shed. Not only is this my most popular post, but people who have been to the house have inquired about it and taken pictures of it because they, or someone they know, has a dog that…
I was supposed to be enjoying a TV show with the mister but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about Peanut, our 11-year-old pug, and our ongoing dilemma of how to make going potty outside in the wintertime easier on all of us. Because our little gal insists on finding the perfect spot on…
The Fickle Feather 