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.

Fire on the water

A good friend calls you to offer their condolences that your great-grandmother's home – the birthplace of my creativity – has burned to the ground.

A great friend – the ultimate friend – tells you: STAY OFF FACEBOOK, DUDE. YOU ARE TOO SAD AND MOPEY FOR THIS. PEOPLE ARE SHOWING THEIR CONCERN, BUT YOU ARE TOO UPSET TO DISCUSS IT…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I SEE YOU LOGGING ONTO FACEBOOK. STOP. IT. OR I'LL CALL YOUR HUSBAND.

I have the best friend in the entire world. I love her so much it hurts. We are codependent, ridiculously self-entertained creatures and she means more to me than she will ever know. And last night she didn't handle me like I'd break. She reassured me that this did in fact sucks, that I should cry some and then let it go.

So I did. Or so I'm trying to.

Can't tell you how many people have written to me and said kind things or shared humorous stories about my Nene. She was that kind of person – the sort of lady you don't forget.

A friend from college offered to drive out to my parent's home and see if they needed anything. The house that burned was in their side yard and we are blessed it didn't spread. I told her the only thing that affected Mama and Daddy directly was the loss of electricity since the fire blew out a transformer.

Then, during the middle of my update, she goes: WAIT. THAT REMINDS ME… DIDN'T NENE USED TO TOTE A CORDLESS PHONE AROUND IN HER POCKET? IN CASE SHE FELL?

That was something I'd forgotten that she did. She liked to have her phone on her at all times. Mostly it was because she was better than the ticker on CNN for giving the latest update or news. If you drove by her house slowly or fast or swerved she knew it. She was plugged in. I can't believe I had forgotten all about her superior snooping skills.

I think that's why I'm so sad about her little, worthless house burning. It feels like all those moments we shared in it are gone too. Makes me wonder how many other things have I forgotten?

And so my night of depression began!

You can't imagine what a GIRL I was being. My extremely tolerant aunt was even rolling her eyes. I know because the eye roll was so loud I could hear it in Texas. Her daughter – my only first cousin on that side of the family – was weepy too. We were the oldest and had spent the most time with Nene. As my cousin and I cried and acted like the pussies we are, my aunt says: NENE WAS A PIONEER WOMAN. SHE'D SAY TO NUT UP, YOU PANSIES.

Which is totally true. Weak pansies never made it to the homestead. They died on the wagon train like Tom. So we sucked it up. Somewhat. I only teared up once today and that was when my dad sent the pictures.





Guys, I know I don't live there anymore or get home to visit enough, but truly thank you for all yall did. From what I gather, the volunteer fire department kept it from spreading to my parents' or aunt's homes. I just wanted to thank all you guys who serve our community. Sometimes I think people forget that you're not paid to do it. Most of you guys volunteer to go into CLEARLY dangerous situations to help your neighbors. The older I get, the more I appreciate the grit and determination of the hardworking folks I come from.