I lost my little friend today. Gabby, our little rescue pug, gave up this mortal coil this afternoon. She might have been 12, she might have been 16. The folks at the shelter really weren’t sure of how old she was when she came to the shelter.
I called her “The Grumbler” because her snorty, raspy breathing always sounded like she was pissed off and complaining about something. She wasn’t conventionally affectionate, just demanded to know I was there– she would come into a room I was in, walk over, stare at me, then grumble a bit and tuck in next to my feet and snore. I’ll miss that.
She used to sit by my feet when I painted miniatures, or on the couch next to me when I was watching TV. There wont’ be another like her. I wish she had lasted longer, but I realize that pugs don’t last forever. Farewell, little Grumbler. May you always have a comfortable couch in Heaven.