Phinneas Charles Dragoon

On Tuesday March 20th, 2012 we laid to rest our loving old pug, Phinneas.  Most knew him simply as Finn.  We adopted him on July 24th, 2010 from a local animal shelter.  I was looking for beagles on their website (my husband really wanted another dog, and preferably a beagle).  I wasn't telling anyone I was looking...because I really was just "looking" with no real intention of adopting anytime soon.  Silly me, I know.

Shelter Photo

What I found was a small pic of a funny looking pug with no name.  He had this huge grin on his face and his tongue was hanging out.  The pic was a bit blurry, but something really drew me to him.  I decided to check him out.  I called the shelter and they said he was found wandering a park in Stockton with no tags and no chip.  No one had yet to claim him. 

I took my friend and coworker, Linda, with me to see him in person one day during our lunch break.  The shelter attendant put him on a little blue rope leash and led him outside for me to say hi to him.  He was friendly, but not too friendly.  He looked more confused by what was going on than anything.  He also made this weird honking noise that I have never heard another dog make in my life.  The attendant said that all pugs make that noise due to their short snouts.  The attendant also said he looked about 2 to 3 years old based on his teeth.  What a joke that turned out to be.  But I'll explain that more later.  I noticed his nose was ragged and torn and the attendant stated it was from rubbing on the shelter floor after being fed.  Overall, he was a sweet thing.  He approached me with no hesitation and let me pet him and talk to him.  He wasn't overly enthused or bouncing off the walls...which I took to mean he was mellow and relaxed.  Which was perfect for our family.

I went home and pondered this pug.  I showed my husband the photo online.  My husband was, of course, thrilled at getting another dog.  And since our current dog, Spike, was "technically" his dog...this one would be mine to choose.  Now, we have had issues with adopting a dog in the past.  I wanted my "own" dog and my husband found a spunky little mutt at the pound that we named Buffy.  She was a ball of energy and I loved her.  But she was also extremely dominant and downright mean to Spike as she grew older.  She wouldn't allow Spike to eat, she would attack him, and she would destroy everything in her path.  Fences, gates, metal enclosures, shoes, food, walls, anything.  After years of trying to reverse her behaviour, I broke down and returned her to the pound.  It was heartbreaking and awful.  I still feel extreme guilt over it.  But it was best for our sanity, our home, and definitely best for Spike.  He really blossomed into such a great dog after that.

Spike

So, naturally I was apprehensive about bringing yet another dog into our lives.  But pugs are known to get along with everyone and anything, so I decided to give him a try.  I called the shelter and asked when I could pick him up.  We chose a Saturday to pick him up, so that I would have time with him at home before having to return to work.  I was to pick him up at 11:45am, after Spike's wellness vet appointment that morning.

I arrived at the shelter a bit early, around 11:15am, since I was so anxious to take the pug home with me.  I had bought a bed for him to sit in for the car ride home and to sleep in.  I also bought a collar which turned out a bit too small.  He was a small dog compared to our 100 lb Spike, but a larger pug apparently.  No matter, he followed along on that little blue rope leash the shelter attendant had.  I filled out papers and payed his adoption fee.  The woman at the front desk told me that they think he contracted a cold while in the shelter as he was coughing/honking a lot.  They explained that I could take him to a vet if I wanted and had 24 hours to return him if he was sick.  The pug also pee'd in the entryway while he waited for me to complete papers.  This worried me slightly as I hope he was potty trained, but had no real way of knowing.

I led him to my car and let him sniff around a bit and do some more pee'ing.  Then I hoisted him up into my car onto his new bed.  He settled right into the bed and laid down.  He stared at me the entire car ride home...making a few honking noises here and there.  I talked to him on the car ride and let him know I was very excited to bring him home and let him meet Spike and the cats.  I told him that my husband was really bummed he didn't get to meet him the same time I did, but he had to work an extra shift that day.  I let him know that we would be calling him Phinneas, or Finn for short.  I also explained that our air conditioner had picked the absolute worst time to break down and we would be facing a hot day, but that I would give him a bath to cool him down and we could chill in the backyard in the shade and get to know each other.

Once we got home, I let him sniff around the front yard while Spike watched from the screen door/window.  Spike was definitely excited as he whined the entire time.  Finn and Spike met for the first time through the screen door.  Finn walked right up to the door and sniffed at the 100 lb Rottweiler/Shepard mutt on the other side.  Spike was ecstatic at another dog being so close.  Plus it was a small dog, and Spike had always taken a liking to small dogs.  I think because they are too small to boss him around.  He is a very gentle soul and does not like confrontations.  I put Spike into the backyard and let Finn into the house.  He wandered around a bit, but mainly kept close to wherever I was.  So I led him through the house showing him each room.  I then led him to the backyard where he got to meet Spike fur to fur.  Spike sniffed him up and down, and then brought him a toy.  Finn could really care less about the toy, or playing with Spike.  He just watched me and followed me.  I laid out a big blanket in a shady spot in our backyard and put Finn's new bed on it.  He curled up into it.

Finn's first day at home

It was very early afternoon and already getting hot, so I decided it was best to get Finn's first bath over with.  I scrubbed him up and down to get that shelter smell off of him and cool him down a bit.  I also cursed the air conditioner for going out during one of the hottest weeks of the year.  I knew from researching that pugs are not so good in the heat due to their shorter snouts.  They can't breathe as well and overheat.  So I was worried about our first day together being a disaster.  After bathing, Finn went through a honking episode and decided to lay back down under the shady tree.  But a little further from me than before...due to me just forcing him to bathe and all.

We all laid out in the shade; me, Spike, Finn, and occasionally a cat would be brave enough to wander over and check things out.  We have three cats; Loki, Bartelby and Elias.  I figured Elias would be the brave one and meet Finn first, but no, it was Loki.  The cat with no claws, who barely tolerates anyone, was the bravest.  She walked right up to the sleeping Finn and sniffed him up and down.  Finn could care less about the cats.  He could really care less about anything except watching me and honking. 

Finn's first day at home

After a few hours of laying in the backyard, it kept getting hotter.  So I "bathed" Finn a few more times, mainly just keeping him cool.  I also bathed Spike, which he disliked greatly.  Finn kept with the honking, which started to worry me.  Plus he had a lot of snot bubbling out when he would cough.  I was afraid he was overheating or had caught a kennel cough.  It was such a nasty honking sound.  Plus his breathing definitely didn't sound normal.  And his breath!!  Oh his breath was rancid!!  I had already scheduled him for a checkup with our vet for late that afternoon, but I called them to let them know he was coughing and honking so much.  They advised me to bring him through the back, in case he did have kennel cough. 

At the vet appointment, they assured me he did not have kennel cough and that it was most likely stress causing him to honk so much.  They did remind me that pugs make funny noises, and honking is one of them.  They stated it would probably calm down once he got used to his new surroundings.  The vet also stated his teeth were decayed pretty badly and he appeared to be about 10 years old.  10 YEARS OLD!  Yeah, that's a big difference from 2-3 years old.  I knew that pugs only live to be about 13 years old if healthy, and Finn's mouth was not healthy at this point. 

We decided to be the best damn "retirement home" we could possibly be for this new member of our family.  I made a follow up appointment to clean his teeth, get x-ray of his mouth, and generally find out the full extent of his mouth issues.  Finn also got his first round of "puppy shots" as the shelter had no history on him.  I also tagged him, in case he ever wandered away from home.  He was already nuetered, so at least he wouldn't need to go through that.

Over the next few weeks, Finn's honking did mellow out.  It still came and went, but it was not the extreme honking he had that first weekend.  My husband met him and fell in love.  Whenever Finn would begin honking, my husband would announce "the goose is loose!"  My Mom met him and we laughed about how awful poor Finn's breathe was due to his teeth.  We started calling him "Phinneas Dragoon"...since he had such toxic dragon's breath.  My sister was in school in LA, and very annoyed that she was not consulted on the whole adopting a dog thing.  She felt the photos I sent of Finn made him look angry.  She also said he looked more like a "Charles", so his name grew to be "Phinneas Charles Dragoon."  When my sister finally did get to meet him, she fell in love with him too.  It was hard not to. 

Finn, my Sister, and my Mother

We discovered that all of Finn's teeth were beyond repair and would need to be removed if he was to get healthy again.  The vet assured us that Finn would be perfectly fine without teeth and his gums would eventually harden up so that he could eat dry dog food again.  The vet stated Finn would be much happier without the teeth also, as it was extremely painful for him to eat right now.  My husband and I discussed it, as it was a huge amount of money that was not initially budgeted into the "healthy new 2 year old dog" fund.  But we both knew it was best for Finn and decided to get his teeth yanked out.  After the surgery, the vet showed me a few of the teeth that were pulled...and it was awful.  They were green down to the roots, cracked throughout, and just horrible.  Poor Finn, to have had to deal with that for who knows how long.  Clearly, someone was not taking very good care of him in his life before us.

Chistmas Finn

Finn loved that he was on nothing but wet food for a few months after that while his mouth fully healed and his gums hardened up.  Spike loved it too, because we are pushovers and can't give wet food to just one dog.  So we sprinkled some of the gravy on Spike's food too.  Finn's toxic dragon breath was gone!  He was also more playful.  Not super playful like Spike, but he had his moments of running around the backyard like he wanted to play.  He still never liked chew toys, which I don't blame him.  What he did love, was burying his face into a blanket.  We called him a truffle hunter or a little rogue hippo.  He would make these grunting noises, smash his face into a blanket, and start pushing it around.  It was too cute.  His honking also disappeared.  The "goose" was no longer loose.  The only thing that never fully healed was his nose.  It still looked a little ragged from his time before us, but at least it no longer produced bubbly not.

Snuggly Finn

Months went by and we fell in even deeper love with our new dog.  And I really feel he fell in love with us.  He was my little shadow.  Following me from room to room, always wanting to be within eye contact of me.  He loved that my husband would hoist him up onto the couch and snuggle with him while watching ESPN.  Many Sundays I would come into the living room to find my husband napping while watching football, and Finn happily snuggled under a blanket next to him. 

As time passed, Finn's age began to really come out.  His back legs just weren't what they used to be.  He had a waddle.  The vet stated he had arthritis in his back legs and back and may even have issues with his spine.  We started him on steroids and other pain relievers.  This little dog basically had his own medicine cabinet.  The vet told us that since we didn't really know Finn's age, he may be older than we predict and may not "make it through the fall." Then he predicted he may not "make it through the winter."  Then the spring.  Then the summer.

Finn and Elias

Well, he did make it through.  He stumbled along happily and planted himself firmly into our family and hearts.  Even though his legs and back slowly got worse, he still had such spunk in him.  He still greeted us with little barks when we got home from work, still loved to cuddle and still loved to bury his face into a good blanket (or a nice clean t-shirt). 

Then it got worse.  At first, I think it may have been a bit of laziness on Finn's part.  He was old, stumbly, and his bed was warm.  I think he'd rather wait until the last possible minute before attempting to make it outside to poo.  Unfortunately, his body would let it all go as soon as he stood up and he wouldn't make it outside.  This we could handle.  It's not like it was diarreah.  It was firm little pellets, usually found in his bed after he got up.  But then it was urine too.  He would stand up, stumble a little ways, pee, and then get back into bed.  We just started cleaning it up whenever he did it.  I didn't want to talk about him getting too old or what that meant. 

I was also pregnant now.  So the smell of poo and pee really hit me hard.  And as my growing stomach got bigger and bigger, I could no longer bend over to clean up the messes.  And the messes grew in frequency.  Finn rarely made it outside to potty.  We decided to start blocking the dog doors when we weren't home and start making Finn go outside after eating/drinking and periodically when we knew he had been sleeping too long.  This worked for awhile.  As soon as Finn took a long drink of water, there was my husband or I scooting him outside.  And almost instantly he would pee.  Several times.  It seemed like water and food went right through him. 

He adored a good chin scratch

Then I was put out on pregnancy disability and was able to stay home from work.  This is when I really started to see how old Finn had become.  He slept 95% of the day, only wanting to get up to eat or greet my husband when he came home from work.  He would sleep right through pooping or peeing in his bed.  The times that he would get up to go potty, he would make it maybe a foot from his bed before going on the carpet.  And you can't get mad at an old dog for going in the house.  It's not his fault.  He can't help it.  But it is frustrating.  Especially when you are 8 months pregnant, nauseous over the smell of poo/pee and can't bend over to clean.  I would cry, because I just didn't know what to do.  I loved Finn so much, but I didn't know how to handle his deteriorating state.  I didn't want to make a decision about his life too soon.  What if he still had time left?  He still was the loving pug I adopted just a few short years ago.  He would still bury his face into your shirt when you picked him up to cuddle.  He still looked at us with such admiration and love.  But he was not all there anymore...not all the time anyway.  Sometimes after I would put him in the backyard to try and get him to pee, I would check on him a few moments later and find him howling at the sky.  Then when I would approach him, he would look at me like he wasn't quite sure who I was at first.  He would always eventually see it was me and get excited.  But I think his eyesight was starting to go...and his hearing too.

"Whatever's comfy, buddy."

I wrestled with even bringing the conversation of Finn getting old up to my husband.  We were both so attached to Finn.  And I really didn't want to be the one to make the decision.  I was afraid that my pregnancy hormones were affecting how I was seeing things and I didn't want to make a decision on Finn's life just because a baby was coming soon.  I wrestled with it for days before actually bringing it up to my husband.  He listened as I explained what I had noticed, what I know we both noticed, about Finn's age and welfare.  I cried, of course.  I explained that I thought it was time to make the decision and that my opinion was that it was time to put Finn down.  After I said those words, I lost it.  I cried so hard.  I couldn't believe that I was saying it.  I wished it weren't true.  But I knew in my heart that it was time and it was right.  My husband agreed, though I think he would have agreed with any decision I made.  He is such a good man and I know he worries so much for me now that I am pregnant.  I know he saw how stressful and hard the decision was for me.  I just hoped that he really understood why and wouldn't blame me for the heartache we were about to face.

The decision was made on a Friday night.  We had a Labor & Delivery class all day Saturday, so I knew we couldn't make the call to the vet until Monday.  I didn't want to think about it.  I focused on the class all day.  When we were home Saturday night and Sunday, I tried to act no differently.  I didn't know what the next steps were.  I didn't know how it all worked with the vet.  I had never been through the end of a dog's life before.  So I tried not to dwell on it.

Monday came and I called the vet and let them know what was going on.  All the front desk clerks, the techs and both Vets know us and Finn.  They all adore him.  And they were very understanding and helpful on the phone.  The clerk explained that we would make an appointment with the vet of our choosing.  She explained that the vet would explain the process at the appointment.  She also explained that we did not have to put Finn down at the appointment if we chose not to, that we could always take him home and talk about it more if we needed to.  She explained that when we did put him down, she would need to know if we wanted Finn's body released back to us for burial, if we wanted the office to take care of his remains, or if we wanted information on cremation.  She said to talk about it with my husband and she set the appointment with the vet for the following day at 9am.  I talked about it with my husband and decided to let the office take care of Finn's body once it was all done.

My husband went to work that day and I stayed home and cried.  I cried all damn day.  I put towels down in the bed and let Finn lay with me.  I cried into his pudgy little neck for hours.  He just watched me or slept...content that he was allowed in the bed again for awhile.  I slept awful that night.  Partly because I had cried myself into many naps the day before, and partly because I kept thinking about our appointment the following morning.  Was I making the right decision?  Was it really time?  What if Finn had months left and would eventually just pass away peacefully in his sleep in his own bed?  Wouldn't that be better?  Plus didn't I want Finn to meet the baby that would be here in just a few short weeks?  It was horrible and I was exhausted in the morning. 

The morning went terribly for me too.  My husband had put Finn out to pee.  I was all done getting ready and wanted a little more time to cuddle Finn, so I let him in.  After walking about a foot into the house, Finn pee'd on the carpet.  I put him back out and struggled with bending over to clean it up.  I waited about 5 minutes, saw that Finn had also pee'd outside, and let him back in.  He did it again...this time a few more feet into the house.  I put him back out and cleaned again.  10 minutes went by and I again tried to let Finn back into the house so that we could have some time together before the appointment.  He pee'd again.  I put him out and again started cleaning.  I started crying so hard while cleaning that I toppled over and ended up sitting on the floor with a rag and cleanser in my hands.  My husband found me stuck on the floor crying my eyes out.  He had to help me up because I couldn't push myself up off the floor.  I knew I was going to be a wreck at the appointment.

My husband laid down a blanket in the backseat of our car for Finn.  I decided to ride in the back with Finn, so that he wouldn't stumble around and fall on the floor.  I also wanted to just cuddle with him.  Finn snuggled right up to me and buried his face into my shirt.  Then he just watched me the whole car ride.

The vet office was fairly quite, as they usually are in the early morning weekdays.  I am glad the front desk clerk knew why we were there and didn't greet me with the usual chipper "Hi....how's Mr. Finn doing today?"  She had me sign the form stating that we wanted the office to take care of his remains.  I wasn't expecting that so soon, but I suppose it is best to get all of that done before hand.  We sat for just a few minutes before a tech called us into one of the back rooms.  She told us that she would be back to place a catheter in a few moments to place a catheter in Finn's leg and that the vet would then be in to talk with us and administer the medicine.  She then left us alone in the room.  I think they must do this to give you a few moments alone to talk and be with your pet.  I think I was in a fog.  I still wasn't fully aware that it would be happening.  That we would be putting Finn down in a few moments.  That time between is hazy to me.  I honestly don't know if I was crying or what I said.  I know my husband was holding Finn and I was petting him.  But besides that, I have no idea.  When the tech came and took him to the back for the catheter it felt like it took forever.  And again, it's all foggy.  I think my husband was talking about the good life Finn had and trying to keep me calm.  He was so strong.  I remember joking that Finn had already cleared a spot for the catheter with his incessant cleaning of his leg.  Finn could not really reach his body for cleaning anymore, so he spent a good deal of time cleaning his front leg.  He licked it clean of hair practically.

When the tech brought Finn back in she stated that our vet would be in shortly.  And he came in almost immediately.  I love our vet.  He is the nicest person and really seems to love our animals.  Especially Finn.  He is the one who started calling him "Mr. Finn", which some of the techs picked up too.  He asked if we had ever been through this before and I said no.  He explained that the medicine would be injected into the catheter and would put Finn to sleep within seconds.  He explained that then Finn's organs and body would shut down within seconds afterwords and he would be gone.  He also explained that Finn would be gone before he was even done injecting all of the medicine into the catheter, that is how quick it works.  He advised us to wrap Finn in a towel they provided with just his leg sticking out.  We wrapped him up and I held him against my chest above the table.  The vet said to talk to Finn and tell him how much we loved him.  I told Finn how good of a boy he was and I loved him so much.  My husband held me and Finn and also stated how much he loved him.  It was so fast.  One second I could see the vet injecting the medicine and I am saying "I love you, Finn" and the next minute I could feel Finn go heavy and limp.  I kept talking to him, cuddling him and crying until the vet stopped with the medicine.  I layed Finn on the table and the vet check his heart and stated "he's gone."  The vet told us we could take as much time as we needed and he left us.  I bawled.  I don't remember the last time I cried so hard.  My husband held me and let me cry into his chest for what felt like forever.  He talked about how Finn isn't in any pain anymore, how we gave him such a great home, how Finn loved us and how much we loved him.  My husband cried with me and we said our final goodbyes.  My husband kissed Finn on his little domed head and covered him up with the rest of the towel.  We walked out of the vet office and straight to the car.  I think my husband may have said something to one the front desk clerks, but I knew I would lose it if I talked to anyone. 

Once we got to the car, I let it all out again.  I don't even fully remember the car ride home.  Once we got home, my husband fully let it out.  We talked about our memories of Finn and how this was going to hurt for a long time, but that it would get better day by day.  My husband had to go to work, but he managed to only work an hour before getting someone else to cover his shift.  Which I am so grateful for.  Having him with me makes it hurt just a little less.  Knowing there is someone else who understands how much I loved that little dog and how much him being gone hurts.

It's only been a few days since then.  I wasn't fully aware of how much it would hurt not having Finn around.  I wasn't even aware how much of my day really revolved around wondering what Finn was doing or needing.  I wake up, and my first thoughts are usually something to do with checking on Finn.  Randomly throughout the day I want to check on Finn.  I expect to hear his little pug snores below me as I am watching TV.  I expect him to follow me to the bathroom as he doesn't like to be out of my sight.  I catch little whiffs of our ruined carpet, and it reminds me of Finn.  I see people walking little dogs down the street.  I cuddle with Spike and it reminds me that Finn is not here.  It is really heart wrenching.  My eyes are constantly puffy and red.  I'm exhausted from crying.  When my husband gets home from work, I can tell he has been crying too...as he has that same exhausted puffy eyed look.  We just hold each other.

Hopefully the hurt will start to get better day by day.  I know the hurt only means we loved him so much and miss him.  He was a great dog; my little Phinneas.  It is amazing how much he became a part of our family in just a few short years.  He is greatly missed.