Farewell, Sonny the Pug

This is the Aggie, stepping in for Momma Pug for today. Like all of us, she's having a very rough time, so I'm going to go ahead and make this announcement, one we've been dreading for some time.

Sonny the Pug, the inspiration for this site and one of the greatest dogs in the history of the world, has left us. He passed away early Saturday morning after having struggled for quite a little while. But, unlike anyone or anything else I've ever seen in their final stages of life, his personality stayed with him to the very end.

That personality was the thing that made Sonny the Pug so special. You've never met a more dynamic animal in your life. His eyes were vibrant, he could cock his head at you after he'd been caught doing something wrong to give you his trademark, "whu?", and he would never hesitate to tell you what he thought.

If he wanted something to eat, he'd tell you. If he wanted something to drink, you'd know it. If Deuce had pissed him off, he'd stand there like a drill sergeant, six inches away barking like hell, saying, "AND ANOTHER THING". He hated cats, he tolerated his brothers and he loved his hutthy and dadduh.

When we got Sonny, he was already old and had suffered tremendous abuse. He had heartworms, rotting teeth and had pretty much been given up on. As it turned out, all he needed was a little love and affection to get him going. STP was tough as nails; he beat the heartworms, beat cancer and was in the process of beating a bladder infection when he passed away. He was the most resilient animal you'll ever see.

His feats are legendary: scaring the hell out Rippy, a dog three times his size; attacking Roxy the Boston Terrier and putting in her in a death grip around her neck when she dared get near his food, even though he had no teeth (the cheese marks on her neck were quite visible); his unstuffing of pillows; eating 76 methol caugh drops at one time ("Ah have graht mintuh fresh bruth," he said); knocking the hell out of the neighbor's weenie dog when it dared attack Ripken; shaking the hell out of his stinky pilly; chasing a little boy for his bouncy ball at the nearby state park and popping his head up, just high enough so you could see his eyes, if he thought dadduh was nearby.

Momma Pug and I weren't the only people who loved Sonny; virtually everyone who ever met him adored him. My family, Momma Pug's family and all of our friends thought he was something special.

And they were right. He was, in his own words, "graht."

Goodbye, Puggy. We love you and we miss you. Even Gert.