So, if you’ve been following the blog for a while, you know that Sid has an uncanny ability to disrupt America’s most thankful of holidays with absurdly gross health emergencies.

First there was the great kennel cough eruption of Thanksgiving 2009, during which he literally came down with kennel cough on Thanksgiving afternoon as Brian and I were preparing to head out for a feast at a friend’s house in LA.  We had to ditch our plans and spend the entire day at the emergency vet’s, quarantined while Sid coughed up yellow watery goo.  Keep in mind that Sid has NEVER been to a kennel.  We’re assuming the “pug in the plastic bubble” caught kennel cough from a communal water bowl at the snack shack in Griffith Park.

Then there was the great Atopica eruption of Thanksgiving 2010, in which Sid re-developed his blergy, vom-tastic reaction to the only effective non-steroidal medication available for his allergies.  This was a day or two before Thanksgiving, but the nastiness of this event stayed with us throughout the holiday weekend, much like the hydrating bubble of saline that the emergency vet injected under the skin on Sid’s back.

Well, this year’s Thanksgiving started off without a hitch.  Sid was extra healthy in the days leading up to the holiday – Brian had been waking up every morning to take him to off-leash hours, and Sid was being extra sweet and cuddly throughout the day – perhaps that should’ve been our first indication that something was wrong.  We had Thanksgiving dinner at my brother and sister-in-law’s apartment in Crown Heights, just north of Prospect Park, and Sid’s Grammy Grace was there to give him extra lovin’ and treats.  As a holiday surprise, Sid got an extra-large Kong bone filled with peanut butter and venison sausage, and we let Grammy Grace feed him a dollop of whipped cream.

That night, we let a very contented Sid sleep in the big bed and he purred / snored all night long.  The next morning, he had extra snuggle time with Brian on the sofa, before Brian and I headed out at noon for a nerd-errific afternoon at the American Museum of Natural History.  We had plans to bring Sid over to the home of Miss Timothy Buttons later that evening – her grandparents were in town, so it was going to be an excellent photo-op for the blog.

Totally unrelated yet totally amazing photo of Timothy Buttons

We got home at six pm, with a half an hour to feed Sid his dinner before bringing him over to see T-Buttz and her fam.

Now, bear in mind that we have a live web-cam that streams to our iPhones so we can check on Sid while we’re out of the house. We’d literally just checked the Sid-Cam fifteen minutes before we returned to our apartment, as the F-train passed through the short elevated portion of it’s route, just before our stop.  All was fine.  Or so we thought…

What follows is not an exaggeration.

The pungent odor of regurgitated sausage that hit our olfactory nerves as we opened the door was our first indication that something was wrong.

We noticed a small pile of “business” on the hardwood floor.

Then we turned on the overhead light…

Our ENTIRE apartment was like a cross between a MURDER SCENE, a SEWER EXPLOSION, and the FLOOR OF THE GRAVITRON AFTER A HOT DAY AT THE STATE FAIR.

Blood, diarrhea, vomit – EVERYWHERE.

And by everywhere, I mean, everywhere in our apartment that is NOT viewable on the Sid-Cam.  It’s like he knows the boundaries of the frame that the camera is filming.

Our bed, for instance, is not viewable on the Sid-Cam.  That’s right.  Our bed.

But the mess in our apartment didn’t matter, because Sid was SICK.  He was shaking so much he was vibrating, and he looked gaunt and lethargic.

I called our vet in a panic.  Our non-emergency vet normally closes at 6:30pm on Fridays, but they said they’d stay open until we could get Sid down there.  They’re amazing.

Now, one of the fun things about living in Brooklyn is that everything’s walkable!  You don’t need a car!

Which means, of course, in an emergency, everything is “runnable” because you don’t have time to wait for a car service to come pick you up.

So, we wrapped Sid in a flannel housecoat, scooped him up, and RAN seven blocks to our vet.

He was still vibrating when we got to the vet’s.  They gave him an IV of saline and an anti-nausea injection and some anti-biotics.  Sid, who normally squirms and flails like a bull at a rodeo when the vet tries to touch him, didn’t even try to fight.  They took some blood and stool samples to test, and then sent us home with our raggedy little guy with instructions to keep an eye on him and keep him hydrated.

When we got home, we set up his crate, lined it with wee-wee pads that we had bought for our hurricane preparedness kit, and popped him inside with his water bowl and an old potato toy.  Then we got to cleaning.  (Er, Brian got to cleaning… I got to ordering pizza delivery and then I got to Googling keywords like “Dog Bloody Diarrhea” and “Dog Bowel Explosion Vomit Leaky Anus.” We all have our specific roles that we fill).  Our floors were due for a good scrubbing, I guess, and every rug and linen in our apartment got a good soaking, as well.  Apparently Brian did an amazing job, because later that evening Timothy’s family popped over so that her grandparents could finally meet their grandpug’s much-older boyfriend, and they said the place didn’t smell at all like regurgitated sausage (of course, they could’ve just been trying to be polite – they’re mid-westerners). Timothy stayed at home, just in case Sid was contagious, and also because I don’t think Sid could’ve dealt with the excitement of having his lady love around.   Sid slept in his crate through most of their visit – I pulled him out for a quick hello, but he was still vibrating a bit, poor guy.

He slept in his crate all night long, and when I opened the door to his crate the following morning, he just looked at me and then laid his head back down on his potato.

The vet called later that morning with the lab results – no parasites, nothing serious. Probably just a stomach bug that he picked up at the park.  Thankfully he’d be back to normal in due time.

And by noon, Sid was back to his old ways, trying to steal Brian’s pretzels with a total disregard for authority.

Just another whirlwind 24-hours of holiday fun here at the Pug Slope Headquarters!

Thank you again to Dr. Quim and his staff at the Prospect Park Animal Clinic for taking such great care of our little guy!

Sid was a shark.

Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking.  Does a shark hoodie that Sid already wears all the time really count as a Halloween costume?  Shouldn’t Brian and I, two seemingly creative people with endless time on our hands, be able to put together something a little more special?  Pug Vigoda, say?  Or Pugs Moleman?  Or Pugs Moleman dressed as Bart Simpson?

Well, what if we told you there was a matching PENGUIN in the house?

And what if we told you that Penguin’s name was TIMOTHY BUTTONS?!

That’s right.  A few weeks ago, we discovered that Timothy has a Penguin hoodie made by the same brand that makes Sid’s shark’s hoodie.  When fate presents you with a perfect marine-based halloween theme for your pug and his girlfriend, a theme which requires no output of money or effort, you listen to fate:

True, penguins and sharks don’t exactly get along in the wild:

File photo illustrating the universally-feared Great White Shark’s feelings of mild annoyance toward the universally-loved Emperor Penguin.

But Sid and Timothy used this opportunity to present an alternate reality – an aquatic utopia in which penguin and shark coexist harmoniously, like the yin and the yang of the sea:

In this utopia, when the shark licks the penguin, the penguin licks him right back:

In this utopia, sharks and penguins spend their evenings slow-dancing to the operatic wailing of the humpback whale:

In this utopia, sharks and penguins have mutually-beneficial, symbiotic goals; by working together to conquer the humans, the shark hopes to gain control of the treat supply while the penguin hopes to gain a better vantage point from which she can lick sharks:

But just when our aquatic utopia was becoming a reality, Sid overheard a small child on the street say “TRICK OR TREAT.” It was then that Sid put two and two together and realized that today was THE DAY when all of our neighbors were HANDING OUT TREATS.  FOR FREE.  And all that you needed to do to get these treats was WEAR A COSTUME.

The flap-flip of stubborn indignation was immediately deployed:

To be continued…

“Hey, sugar-tongue, wanna see somethin’ real neat?”

“Oh, here we go again with the ‘somethin’ neats.’  Sid, you spent all last night showin’ me somethin’ real neat, and, you know what? That raccoon toy you got was pretty neat and all, and, sure, you look real handsome when you was playin’ with it, but I spent ALL NIGHT watchin’ you play with that thing and now I want to go out DANCIN’ at the SAVOY like you PROMISED ME back when you first asked me out!”

“Aw, come on, trust me, baby.  I’m gonna show you something that’s gonna make TREATS fall from the SKY – metaphorically speakin’, of course.”

“Ooooh?  That does sound neat.  What’s the treats gonna metamorphse into?  Some dancin’ shoes?”

“Ain’t you lucky you’re nice to look at.”

“Awww, Sid, you’re the sweetest…LET’S GO DANCIN’!”

“Just- Would you just hold your horses?  We’re gonna go dancin’, alright?  But first you gotta see this.  You’re really gonna be really impressed.  Cross my heart, okay?”

“Whateva.”

“Okay, now, here’s how it works.  My folks are gonna come in here, and we’re gonna sit, you know, like good pugs sit.”

“Sure.”

“Then, see, my folks are gonna do this dumb thing where they ask us the same question over and over again.”

“Sounds like a blast.”

“Would you let me finish? See, each time they ask a question, alls you gotta do is tilt your head!  Left, right, left, right.  They’re easily amused, you see, so they think it’s HYSTERICAL and then they give you tons of treats!”

“How long do we sit there tiltin’ our heads before we get to go out dancin’?”

“AS LONG AS IT TAKES!  Shhhh!  Here they come!”

“Sigh.  I bet Eddie woulda taken me dancin’ at the Savoy, no problem.”

“Alright, baby, START TILTIN’!”

You work hard all day long to bring home the bacon.  You spend eight long hours in that rat race, and when you’re finally off the clock, you just want to sit back with your newspaper, spend some time alone, and unwind.

But your impossibly young and adoring wife has spent all day home, alone, watching the soaps and folding the laundry, dying for a chance to talk to somebody – anybody – about all of the thoughts and ideas and dreams that run through her pretty little head and she just wants to play, just for a little bit – why can’t she play, huh?  Why can’t she have a little excitement in her day?

But you work so hard. All you want is some peace and quiet, a hot home-cooked meal and just some time to relax, take your mind off things, perhaps chew on your favorite potato. But there she is.  This beautiful, needy, exquisite young woman for whom you have to keep working so dang hard to keep happy. Because, really, would this hot little lady be with an old curmudgeon like you if you weren’t bringing home that bacon?

You could’ve settled down with a woman your own age, a more mature woman with an established sense of self and a little less energy.  But, more than silence, more than serenity, you want to be able to look up from your newspaper at night and see that face – those perky ears, those big, black, beady eyes, that tongue that seems to go on for miles and miles. And so you give in. You roll over.  You play.  She wins.

Although Sid is a bit of an aloof tough guy most of the time, his softer side does occasionally come out. Nice work, Miss Timothy Buttons.

Hope you all have a great weekend!

Today is Sid’s big day and we kicked off the celebration with a pug cake. Well, it wasn’t technically a cake but rather a combination of some of his favorite treats.

We started with one de-cored apple, slathered on some chunky all-natural peanut butter, and topped the whole thing with carrot slivers to serve as the candles (he’s six this year). We set up a towel for him to eat this goopy mega-treat on but he immediately plucked it up and toted it over to his bed where he started going to town.

In order to try and encourage him to slow down a little and savor the experience, we took the cake away for a moment…

…and of course his little pug face immediately dropped. It’s Okay, buddy, you can have the cake back now.

Timothy Buttons, who was over for the party, made sure no peanut butter drippings got left behind. She’s a smart girl and knew better than to get between an obsessive Birthday Pug and his cake!

In addition to the cake and Sid’s Secret Toy (which we’ll reveal tomorrow) he also got a flat plush rabbit raccoon (You were right, Payton!).

Like the Secret Toy, the flat rabbit raccoon also brought out the wild animal in him!

Sid, let’s calm down a little. We don’t want that cake to come back up!

 All in all it was one excellent Birthday. Sid is one happy (and spoiled) 6-year-old!

So, Sid has never, ever, shown any interest in fetching a stick.  Timothy, however, is a stick aficionado, and the other morning while we were at Prospect Park, something amazing happened…

Timothy found herself a comically large stick.  It’s right there, in the grass.

We began playing fetch with Timothy.  Sid, mildly confused by Timothy’s excitement, began chasing her each time we threw the stick to see what she was so excited about.

After about five throws, something clicked in Sid’s brain – there must be something delicious about that stick!

So, Sid, for the first time ever, began playing fetch with a stick.

And, in typical Sid fashion, our game of stick-fetch instantly went from “lighthearted fun” to OBSESSION.

Struggles commenced.

Hilarious struggles.

But Sid would not let go.

He wouldn’t even drop the stick so Brian could throw it again!

Had we created A MONSTER??!!

Only time will tell…