My Three Babies

Chubby Sue

In 2007 my biological mother acquired a chug (pug chihuahua mix) and named her Chubby. Months later I moved in with her and started helping take care of the dog. Mind you, my mother is a drunk and a hateful one at that. After a few months of living with her, the drinking became worse than it had been in a while, her excuse was that she was lonely - either way, I became primary caregiver to the dog. As time went on Chubby and I became best friends, and we were rather inseparable. 

On February 23rd I got back together with my high school boyfriend, Sam and our relationship got pretty serious. I started staying with his family a lot and since Chubby was technically my mother's dog, I left her home when I would leave. When I would come home the dogs cage would be covered in her own filth and she wouldn't have food or water so I started staying home and he would come to stay with me. Sam would help me take care of Chubby, and it worked out for a while until my mother's drinking started worsening after she started dating my boyfriend's friend Chris. Her excuse then was that she was "depressed".

After a month of her heavy drinking and abusive ways, I fell into a depression and just couldn't take her anymore. When she was awake, I would sleep to avoid her. Sam would try to take care of Chubby for me, but sometimes he had to go home (plus he went job hunting everyday in hopes of getting money for us so we could move out) which left my mother to care for the dog (meaning it never happened). One morning I woke up and heard Chubby shrieking and I walked out into the living room to see what was going on.

My mother had laid out drunk all night and no one had let Chubby outside to potty so she had used the bathroom in her cage. My mother found it unacceptable and started to beat the dog. She beat poor little Chubby until she peed on herself, then beat her harder for that! After witnessing that, Sam and I made arrangements to move in with his parents and we were taking Chubby with us. Shortly after we got married, that's what we did.

Now here we are in 2012 and I still have Chubby. She's a happy, healthy 11 year old and she never has to worry about being beat (or putS in a cage) again.

Squeaker Rue

In 2008 Sam and I heard that a friend had a chihuahua that had mated with a dachshund and they were giving puppies away. I already had Chubby and a cat named Muffin that I had rescued around the same time. Once the puppies were weaned I went to see them. The mother chihuahua pranced back to a laundry basket down the hallway and showed me her babies as if to say, "Aren't they cute! Look what I did!" I looked over the puppies and instantly picked up the little chunky one that was hiding in the corner.

At first I considered putting her back in the basket and looking through the other three, but for some reason I couldn't. The little puppy looked up at me and yawned and I was in love. I walked over to Tomas (the man giving away the puppies) and asked him if I could have her. He told me yes and that if I couldn't get her to eat to just bring her back for a while. On the way home I kept her in my shirt. We stopped by the store long enough to get some formula and soft dog food so that I could get her use to eating on her own. After that first day I never had to take her back. She ate fine and was full of life.

She seemed to take a particular liking to Chubby right off and would follow her everywhere. At first Chubby wanted no part of raising the puppy but as time went on they became great friends. Soon after I got Squeaker, Sam and I split up for a while and I went to live with my Granny, Grandpa, little brother, and little sister. Squeaker also formed an attachment to their dachshund, Tina. Tina, being an older, set in her way type of dog really wasn't thrilled to have a new puppy in the house, but she learned to adjust. Squeaker would chase her, pull her ears, and bite on her tail and Tina would just lay there and take it as if to say she understood what it was like to be little once.

April of 2009 Tina passed away and it hit Squeaker hard. She use to lay under the bed in my Granny's room with Tina, and after her passing away Squeaker would lay under the bed like she was waiting for Tina to come back. Chubby assumed her position as the new alpha in the house and she and Squeaker became much closer than they previously had been.

Now that I've had Squeaker for almost four years, she and Chubby have become best friends and I couldn't imagine them being separated.

Sammy Chu

In 2010 my Granny wanted a pug puppy for whatever reason, but she had just recently adopted a new dachshund plus her friend had dumped a Jack-chi (jack russel chihuahua) off on us. Granny's two new dogs were really aggressive and constantly started fights among themselves and my dogs, so I found the idea of bringing a small puppy into that terrifying. Every time it was mentioned I threw a fit and would have nothing more to do with the conversation. Finally, I got my Grandparents to give up on the idea all together. 

Then one day my little sister and my Granny had taken Dot, the jack-chi to the vet to have her nails clipped and when they came back they said they had found an adult pug that they thought I would love and wanted me to go have a look at it. I wasn't thrilled, but they called and made arrangements anyway. The next day we went and they brought the pug around the corner of the desk to let me see. 

He was mangy, stinky, skinny, and looked so sad. He walked up to me and sniffed, then instantly began to wag his tail and jumped up on me. I reached down to pet him and he plastered himself to the floor and began to tremble. The woman holding his leash explained to me that he had been abused and that someone just brought him and never came back to get him. As I stared at the little shaking furball on the ground, my heart melted, and I agreed to take him home. We made an appointment to bring him back in two days and have him neutered and then off we went to my house.

As soon as I got him home I took him out to potty and get familiar with the yard, then I brought him in and gave him a much needed bath. The poor little boy was so dirty that I had to empty the tub twice and run clean water to finish his bath. He didn't seem to mind though. After I was done, I dried him off and he began running frantically all over the house. That day was the start of a strong loving bond for he and I.

After taking him for his neutering, we discovered that he had a staph infection in his skin, double ear infection, worms, rotting teeth, and an abscess on his left eye. We dished out over $400 within the first month on his vet bills and finally though we had him healthy. Then on black Friday he woke me up at about 5am panting and having difficulty holding his head up. I put some vapor rub under his nose to open his airways and then cleared his nose out the best I could. I held him up and rubbed his chest to try and sooth him some. He seemed a little better, so I told my Granny to watch him while I went out shopping for about two hours.

By the time I came home, my little boy was much, much worse. I began to suspect that he had suffered a stroke, and upon giving him a basic at home neurological response test I was sure that's what it was. I rushed him to the vet and had it confirmed. They gave me a lot of medications for him, and sent me home with specific instructions for his care. Unfortunately, the stroke had left him paralyzed slightly on his right side, so he couldn't blink his "good" eye. I had to put drops and ointment in it to keep it moisturized for him.

He slept in a doggy bed beside me for a few nights, and Sam opted to sleep on the couch so they dog could stay with me in case he needed me. One morning Sammy woke me up patting my arm with his paw and making odd gurgling noises. I got up and turned on the light to see that his right eye had busted and the pupil was exposed. Days before I had noticed an ulcer forming on it, and had called the vet, and all they told me to do was keep ointment on it. I rushed him to the vet again and once there told them I believed he had suffered a herniated ulcer. It was confirmed and we began discussing options for my little man.

Unfortunately it all came down to him losing the eye, so now he only has minimal sight. Imagine covering your right eye and then squinting the left - that's about as well as my little boy can see now. I felt a lot of guilt for a long time and felt like I shouldn't have made the decision to take the eye, but in the end, it couldn't be repaired. The surgery was another $300.

Now in 2012 Sammy has adjusted to only having one eye, and I'm happy to say that he's very healthy and still just as loveable now. :] The nickname The One Eyed Wonder Pug has stuck to him, and he gets excited every time he hears it.

In some way, each one of these dogs has worked its way into my heart, and they're always there for me. No matter what mood I'm in, they're always there to love me and make it better and I am so thankful for those three instances that resulted in me adopting my best friends. :]

gorejussxpsycho gorejussxpsycho
22-25, F
May 21, 2012