The Brain-Dead Pug a.k.a. BDP

"Well, how brain-dead do you mean?" That is the question we get all the time. So I ask you, "Are there degrees of brain-dead?" I guess if you think about it there is "kinda", "kinda-sorta" (with a shrug), "yep, brain-dead" (with a solid nod), "uuuhh, yeahhh...like so brain-dead" (with a teeny-bopper roll of the eyes) and "ab-so-freakin'-lutely!" (with manic head bobbing).

So how brain-dead? Um, I'd give it the "Yep. Brain-dead." if I had to pick one.

We get a couple kinds of responses. They either laugh out right or they smile an almost knowing little grin... or we get the dog lovers response: "What?! How, how...how could you say that about him? He's part of your family!" Our response: "Yep. He sure is. And we love him just the way he is... (say it with me) Brain-dead." (As a side-note, there is something extremely freeing about being able to say the words, "He's brain-dead.") Now please don't get me wrong. We are dog lovers. We just aren't (shall we actually say the word - why of course this is shootin' it to ya straight)... zealot dog lovers. We draw the line with the BDP. We'd let him drink from the royal porcelain vessel if he could reach it okay. But since he's too short I'd be afraid he could drown if he fell in cause he's...brain-dead. He gets good, hearty non-ground up mystery substance dog food because we really do want him to be with us as long as possible, but we don't special order his food from India because they don't butcher animals so there's no possibilities it will have some trace amount of some radical ingredient in it like cow hide or pig snout or chicken feathers. He has to stay home in his crate when we are running human errands. Some times it is a rather long time. We read some where dogs long ago felt safe in their natural habitats of caves and dens, so we figure BDP is working up his tolerance in case one day he mysteriously finds himself feral and in search of a nice warm cave(ish) dwelling place. We leave the tv on for him so he won't be "lonely". We have wrestled with the fact we can't afford Doggie Daycare so he gets left unsupervised, but we have made the Tough Love choice to use those monies to feed our human crumb snatchers instead. All these choices and decisions have weighed heavily on our hearts and minds because of course as any parent of a child with any sort of vegetative mental state will tell you it's tough caring for a family member who at times seems... well, brain-dead.

Look at that face! How could we have known? This was before the symptoms were undeniable.

...and we were thinking, "ooooh, how cute he's smiling."

Little did we know the harsh reality was just around the bend.




Our beloved family member, Olliver the Brain Dead Pug