Erin Shaw Street

F. Scott Fitzpug

F. Scott Fitzpug, 2001-2010

We lost our beloved pug today. It was peaceful, but we're devastated. I wrote this beforehand, knowing that this might be coming. Writing is how I deal with grief. I can barely talk but do want to share our story.

This is the story of a girl and her pug, and it's one of the hardest I've ever written.

In June of 2001, I had just moved back to Birmingham and was a single girl living in an apartment on Southside. I'd become fixated with getting a pug since first seeing one in a pet store window in Sarasota. At the time, I wasn't ready to commit to a dog -- I was working long hours at a newspaper, a life not really conducive to animals -- or much else really.

So when I moved back to the Magic City and got a job with more normal hours, I combed the classifieds looking for pug puppies. One Sunday I found a listing for a litter in Cullman. I got in my car and drove up there "just to look."

 That's where I found him and fell in love with those huge eyes and loud pant. Next thing I knew he was strapped into the passenger seat, and our adventure began.

I called my parents from the road to tell them. "You did what?" But he quickly became a member of the family, F. Scott Fitzpuppy/ F. Scott Fitzpug.

Three months later, on my second date with a chemistry professor, he came to the door with a nylabone. With the girl came the dog -- in fact by then I had a license plate that said "GRLNPUG." When I drove back and forth to Tuscaloosa to visit him, F. Scott came with me. When I went to Japan with my parents to visit my brother, Shane kept F. Scott and housebroke him. It was a feat I could never do on my own, and those poor hardwood floors on 31st Street took a beating. (Now that apartment is an upscale loft -- hope that they refinished the hardwoods.)

When we got married three years later, we had our photos made with F. Scott, who was wearing a beautiful collar of white roses. He stood so proud in the pictures, even if he couldn't be at the ceremony (pugs and heat don't go well together). That was the photo that ran in the paper.

In our vows, which we wrote, we both committed to a house full of books and dogs -- pugs specifically. We made that vow come true a few months later, with money from the wedding, when we drove to Florida to pick up his pug sister, Lolita.

The two became best buddies, even if her crazy pug puppy energy drove him nuts from time to time.

A year and a half later we welcomed our third "pug" into the house -- baby Nate. Although we worried how the dogs would react, they were so gentle with him. F. Scott would curl up protectively over his bassinet, and Lola thought he was her baby.

A girl and her pug became two pugs and a girl, and a baby, and a husband. And we've spent the past four years together. F. Scott started having his challenges the past year or so, going blind because of a genetic retina condition, probably due to overbreeding. He (and Lola) had a bad bout of pancreatitis last year, and we thought we might lose him. We had another year.

Although he slowed down and bumped into walls, he still was our faithful companion, curling up in our lap, giving unconditional kisses, and getting excited over the prospect of Cheerios.

I love him so much I can barely put it into words. For nearly nine years he's been my sidekick, and a piece of my heart walks around in that fawn, snorting little creature.

I remember right before I got him thinking, "if you get a dog, you're going to fall in love, and someday, it's going to break your heart to say goodbye."

  

But there's been a lot of love in between.We love you F. Scott, now and forever.

Earth Day: Hands In the Earth, A Dog on My Mind

The only break in worrying I had today was time spent in my yard.

With F. Scott Fitzpug hospitalized with serious pancreas/gallbladder issues, I spent much of the day trying to figure out what's going on with him.

Exhausted, I don't want to write much about that now except to say he's been my best buddy for nearly nine years. The rest is too painful to write about, and I need to know more before I can put any words down.

Once I knew that he was being cared for at our wonderful vet's, I headed home to pick up Nate for his 4-year check up, only to discover the garden fairy had visited, aka, Rebecca Reed, my colleague in the Gardens Department.

Rebecca was preparing to plant in the yard tomorrow and I was glad to join in and get my hands dirty.

She showed me how to water plants properly (I'd been under-watering) and shared how her vision is shaping up: beautifully.

With my hands in the dirt and cool water, I felt a little better. It is Earth Day after all, so having earth in my hands and animals on my mind made sense I guess.

When we returned from Nate's 4-year check Rebecca and colleague Rex Perry were hard at work with the preparations. Rex installed a beautiful arbor, which ties the whole project together.

Tomorrow the Gardens crew will be back to finish the planting, with a troop of Girl Scouts in tow -- they're learning about gardening for a badge.

I'm learning ... something.

Related Links:

Grumpy Gardener: Pink Flamingo Saves The Day (Yard Makeover)

Alabama Pug Rescue

The Easter Flamingo Visits

Had a great Easter, especially because we were visited for the first time by the mythical Easter Flamingo. Though lesser known than the Easter Bunny, The Easter Flamingo, or 'Mingo for short, is just as generous.

Nate was thrilled to find that Easter Mingo left, what else, plastic eggs.

"The Easter Flamingo left eggs in our dirt," he said. (Next year the Mingo won't have that wide patch of dirt upon which to deposit treat-filled eggs because it will be landscaped, but it did add to the effect.)

N. then explained that the Easter Flamingo works in tandem with the Easter Bunny.

Apparently they pass the eggs back and forth in their mouths and then divvy up the duties of egg distribution. Sweet.

It was a great day, filled with ham biscuits and the first sightings of seersucker suits of the season.

F. Scott Fitzpug, on the mend, even joined in on the fun.

Wordless Wednesday: My First Baby

For Wordless Wednesday (yeah, just a few words) I'm posting one of my favorite pictures of F. Scott Fitzpug. He's going through a tough time these days, but is still giving it his all.

This picture was taken the day that we brought Nate home from the hospital. 

He's been dealt some tough hands but still embodies that loveable pug spirit.

Snuggies and Suitcases

A usual dilemma:

I'm sitting at my desk after a long day of work, full of energy and words, as well as lack of energy and words. I write all day long, and meet, and make phone calls, and plan. I drink coffee in the morning and green tea in the afternoon, and if I'm lucky, write a few good sentences. That's what writers do.

But there's always something fantastic to experience in Birmingham, or wherever I am that day, and I'm torn: do I push it just a little more and see what unfolds, or go on back home to my house or hotel room for sleep?

Last night I kept going, joining friends at Bottletree to see DJ Spooky, whose name doesn't do justice for his music, magical virtual turntables accompanied by carefully cultivated visual statements of war.

I was exhausted. But bobbing my head to the rhythm, talking with old and new friends about music and politics and our city, I was also happy. At 11:30 I called it a night, equally pleased to drive on the silent Birmingham streets, turn the key to my house and discover this surprise from my parents:

Busting open the box, I put aside the *bonus* reading light, and climbed into my leopard print Snuggie (actually called "Wild Side.")

Oh universe, you are such a scamp.

Yeah, I get your message.

So tonight I'm curled up, warm with a Snuggie and a wet pug by my side. The rain is falling and the laundry's on and a suitcase is open. Nate's playing Candy Land and talking about our visit to the McWane Center to meet Curious George. Grape juice and Thomas the Train, dogs and familiar sofa positions.

Tomorrow at this time I'll be in the air, flying to a photo shoot. Telling another story, one that I've been cultivating for a long time, that makes my heart sing when I talk about it. (It's in my home state, in my favorite city, and a story about redemption, with a dash of powdery sand sprinkled in. For the rest you'll have to buy the issue.)

For now I'm in a blanket with sleeves. It's not going in the suitcase. But it will be here when I get home.

Day Four On The Magic Mountain

Day Four At Home:

I hate being at home for long periods of time. Not home as in Birmingham. My house. I am antsy, more comfortable with endless to-do lists and places to go, from office to airport to cities, back to school parties. So I don't do well with long stretches of time being at home, even when surrounded by my books and pugs and comforts.

The good news is that I am starting to feel a little better, which means I should stay close to home and not push myself like usual, like "I am all better! I am a super achiever of a sick person!" Typical.

My attention span is a little short, so it is a bit challenging to read my usual or even keep up with "Extra." How sad is that?

So far, I've done the following:

• lined up doctor appointments
• made arrangements to meet with acupuncturist
•  ate a good Cuban sandwich  from the new Kool Korners          Restaurant (not Miami but the closest thing in Birmingham
  
• dreamed of going to sunny place for real relaxation
• inquired at local yoga studios about practices to ease myself back in
• called my friendly convent (not to join but to inquire about a retreat)

I could do other things, productive things, but I swear I'm trying to be good and not over commit. Plus everyone thinks that I am a delicate flower that might shed pedals if I do too much, so here I am.

Went to a doggie party

It's tough to believe that last week we had a yard full of snow, and this weekend we've spent much of it running around in 72 degree weather. Sweet. Yesterday Nate and I took a long jog/walk (OK I'll be honest - there was more walking than jogging but I haven't been working out with a stroller all winter).

Today I turned my attention to getting ready for upcoming travel, but did take a break to enjoy the sunshine with Lolita. Lola and I piled in the car (by the way, it's much easier to transport a toddler than a crazed snorting pug) and drove to our friend Max's house. Max just turned 10 years old. He is also a dog.

Lola completely worked the room. Here she is charming a party guest. Several people asked what was wrong with her breathing (one person asked if she had asthma). Um, no -- she's a pug! And that's the signature snort. Love it or leave it.

So the girls had a fun afternoon out.

And it reminded me of how much fun I used to have taking the dogs to the park BN (Before Nate). No reason why we can't do it again. Or maybe we'll have a party to celebrate F. Scott and Lola's birthdays -- F.S. will be eight and Lola five this summer. They have gotten a bit of the short end of the stick since little dude entered our lives.  I know I'm not the only one whose family dogs have fallen on the priority list but still ... they're still a part of our family.

Pugs, we salute you! Now once I get past planning a big three year birthday party the pug party will be in the works ...