For Dixie

On January 9th, 2019 we said good-bye to our sweet pug, Dixie. Also affectionately known as Dixie-land and Dum-dum. I’ve never been one to enjoy reading the emotional stories of others when it comes to the loss of a pet (too many tears) so I don’t blame you if you skip right past this post. But I need to tell Dixie’s story and to share the impact she had on our lives. It’s been six months, and losing her has been a big part of the reason that I have a hard time being in the kitchen and struggle with returning to regular posting here. So this post is for her. 

A man answered the door and as we stepped inside a pug-shaped bolt of lightning shot through the room. I can’t remember if she slammed up against our legs or the closed door as she came to a stop, but as it happened the man said – that’s her.

I heard myself say – It is? Followed by something that sounded like a mix between nervous laughter and a gulp of fear. 

Macy was around 8 and the goal was to find a pug just a little younger than her to be a buddy, to keep her company when we traveled, and to keep her active as she aged. Dixie was estimated to be about 6. She was a surrender from a breeder who gave her up when she was done having puppies. We were making our first visit to her foster home to meet her and to see if we wanted to adopt her.

We continued on into the kitchen of the home we were visiting and learned that Dixie lived with 5 or 6 other foster pugs and a big sister chocolate lab. As we talked she came and sat on my feet. I heard her Foster Dad say to Dan – It looks like she’s taken a liking to your wife.

She was so freakin’ cute. We arranged to adopt her and pick her up a few weeks later. 

We took Macy with us to go get her. Macy has always been restricted to the back seat during car rides for her safety and that is where they had their first introduction. 

It’s also when the mayhem began. 

Our new rescue pug was an absolute hell-child in the car. (Something that would last until just a few years ago.) She fought to come up front with a relentless perseverance I have never seen in a dog.

Finally, I put her on my lap. 

The broken-hearted look Macy gave me from the back seat made me burst into tears. She had ALWAYS wanted to come up front. We drove on and I wondered if we’d made the right decision.

So we began the transition to a two-pug household heeding the warnings of the rescue that it would take her time to adjust. But we found comfort in the fact that they assured us that Macy would rub off on her and show her the ropes. 

Once in the house, she took one speed lap around the living area chasing Macy, then  jumped up on our bed and peed in the middle of our white comforter. 

It was quite a memorable start. 

There were moments during that time when law-abiding, well-trained Macy’s face clearly said —

Did you find her on the streets?! How is it possible that you got one with absolutely no manners?!

Days folded into weeks, months, and years. There was irritating each other and chasing in the backyard. Toy tug of war in the living room. The lounging got more intimate as Macy slowly let go of her personal bubble. Mostly due to necessity because Dixie refused to stop sitting on her. 

In their later years, they started to gang up on us. When we installed a sliding barn door to close off our bathroom, Dixie would stand by as Macy nudged the door open and then parade herself into the room. Macy would stand by as Dixie scratched on the patio door alerting us that they wanted to go outside, which was really a play for a fake potty and a free treat. They ended up making a good senior-pug team in their later years. 

Macy had always been a snuggle pug, but it took Dixie a long time to want to curl up on the couch with us. Even then, there were more times when she really just wanted to be on the end of the couch by herself or in the bed on the floor. 

But in the everyday, she was much more attached to me than even Macy. She always had to know where I was and she would pace the house until she found me. I’d pull her bed within eyesight whether I was in the kitchen or in the studio so that she could watch me and know where I was. She’d lay on my yoga mat and right near the spin bike wheel anytime I worked out. 

In fact, it got to the point in the past year that I had to lock them both out when I did a workout simply because it was too dangerous given their elderly clumsiness. I feel such guilt about that now…closing her out of any space.

Dixie never complained about anything. Yes, she was difficult to ride with for a while and she would let you know if you came home after her dinner time, but she took everything else in stride. 

They both slept with us until last summer. Dixie started waking up in the middle of the night and walking around the bed. Despite me waking up two or three times a night to catch her or make sure she was still asleep along with lining the edge of the bed with a make-shift barrier, she would still fall off from time to time. 

One night I realized she wasn’t in bed and shined the flashlight from my phone around the room to find her curled up in the corner on a pillow that was on the floor. It was at that point I knew she needed to sleep on the floor for her safety.

The first night she gave me a heart-breaking look like – Well, why is Macy in the bed? –  as I picked her up and set her in the dog bed which I pulled close to my side. After about two nights, she didn’t think a thing of it – simply walked right to her bed on the floor. Either it was her adaptability or that she simply valued her sleep more than frivolous things like sleeping with mom and dad. Likely the latter. That dog loved her naptime.  

Until a few weeks before she passed, she was everywhere I was all day long. She’d lay beside my tri-pod while I worked and explore any food that was within sniffing distance. She’d frustrate me in the kitchen causing me to almost twist an ankle from tripping over her on a regular basis.

Then things changed and I became the one always looking for her. As she lost her sight she’d sleep in longer and go off to beds in other parts of the house to nap. I spent my days listening for the clicks of her feet to hit the floor so I could let her out before she gave up looking for me and went on the floor. I’d peek around the corner at where she was sleeping at least 20 times a day. Just to make sure she was okay. 

And it would wear on me and I’d get frustrated with how much time it took to take care of her. Then I’d get a second wind and realize my role in taking care of her and I’d continue to push through for both of us. 

I underestimated the impact of being home with her these past 6 years, of caring for her as her needs got greater over the past year. It’s like my mind knew she was feeling poorly, but I felt like she’d eventually perk up again, like she had so many times before. 

Watching her lose her sight was painful. She was always a people watcher. While Macy would fuss and whine wanting to go home, Dixie would sit on the ground under our table for hours watching people and other dogs. She loved it. We watched her sight go from minimal to completely gone. At the same time, she knew her surroundings and with some help, still got around the house. 

Everyone says we gave her a good life and in the bigger picture, I know that is true, but I have so many regrets and questions. Did I do enough? It’s probably how most people feel in this situation. There are so many little things – why did I get frustrated with her, why didn’t I stop working and spend more of those few last days with her…

I think part of what I feel is that she was always in Macy’s shadow, in second place. 

Well, this wasn’t completely true in the beginning. She demanded attention and would nudge Macy out of the way to get it. But when it came to birthdays, treats and other things, looking back it always seemed like they were for Macy. This was especially true as we became more focused on the fact that Macy reached 14, then 15 and now 16 and was still healthy given her age. 

Perhaps these last few months are overshadowing the 8 years we had her, but I hope she left us knowing that she was equally as loved and celebrated. 

For years, I think we always thought that Macy would be the first to leave us. And last November when Macy went back into a coughing pattern and Dixie seemed to be feeling better, I was nearly certain that was going to be true. Then the tables turned and Macy got better. Meanwhile, I don’t think we realized just how badly Dixie was failing. We knew she was simply sustaining life. But she seemed okay with it. She was eating, still wanted all her treats, she just needed a lot more sleep and then there were her failing eyes. 

That lasted a while and maybe that is why her passing seemed so fast. She failed rapidly in just a couple days and I really wasn’t even expecting to have to make the decision the morning that it happened. 

The heartbreak hit me harder than I could ever have imagined. I always felt like I was the person who would be sad, but that would celebrate her life and focus on the happy. The days after her death just got worse, especially as Macy started to realize that she was no longer around. I had so much work to do and I was completely paralyzed by the fact that she was no longer physically present. 

I progressed through a deep shock of losing her, tears that required I sit down to withstand their force, staring blankly into space as the days progressed, then the guilt and regret of what I should have done differently. I could feel each emotion as it moved through me. They are still moving through me and the tears still come on a regular basis. 

At 6 months, I don’t know that I can say that it’s gotten much better. The pain is less sharp and I have gone full days without tears, but not many. Maybe this is because, while Macy is still toughing it out, we know that her time is coming to an end soon. We see some of the same signs we saw in Dixie a year ago and should have paid attention to. Grieving as you face the fact that there is so much more grieving to come is an interesting thing. It makes healing difficult. 

I began writing these words two days after Dixie’s death and have pieced together my feelings and experiences since. As much as it hurt, I knew I needed to document this process. To not forget the impact she had on me. And at this time, all the little things about her flooded my mind and I never want to forget them as time passes. If writing and photography have taught me anything, it is that they are ways to not forget. 

Looking back there is one particular thing that I am extremely grateful for. Over the past few years, I can’t count the times that I’ve been at a conference related to food and blogging when someone has walked up and said something to the effect of, “This is Lori Rice. She has the cutest pugs.” 

I am so glad that I didn’t let myself be convinced to transition my Instagram account to a clean, professional portfolio for so many years. For a long time, it was simply documenting my day and experiences. Because of it, I have so many pictures of the pugs in my feed if you scroll back between a couple years ago and 2011 when I started my account. I captured so much of Dixie’s life and while I know those photos are saved somewhere in my files, I’m so glad they are right there on my account to look through when I feel the desire. 

Just over the past month, with all the regrets I feel, her passing did teach me one thing – I am slowing down. I’ve never considered myself to be high-strung, hectic or frantic in the way I live and work. I’ve always considered myself laid back. Hardworking, but laid back. 

But in her final months, as I was trying to finish my book and get client work done while committing the time she needed for care, I was constantly stressed, disgruntled, irritated, however you want to explain it, which led to frustration with her that she didn’t deserve.  

A lot has changed. I’m taking a more proactive approach with my business so that I control it and it doesn’t control me. I will still be as dependable as always and meet my commitments, but I evaluate what is important and what isn’t and if a non-priority doesn’t get done, it just doesn’t. I’m embracing slow mornings, creating more focus, while limiting my work hours. I’m giving Macy every second she needs for care without frustration. 

We canceled trips at the end of last year as Dixie’s health started to decline and I’m happy we did. We’ve now done the same for Macy. We’ve canceled all travel that would require leaving her because we’re just not going to leave her right now. 

I have Dixie to thank for these changes. For this re-focus, for this appreciating Macy even more. Even in her absence, she gives as much as she always did. 

I hope you know how much we love you, Dixie-land. I think I will always regret that I didn’t do more to show you. 

I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing:

You guarding the grill. You had to be so happy when mom and dad were doing a slow carb diet and grilling chicken every week. You always knew the second I had any form of chicken in the house.

Waking up multiple times during the night to make sure you were okay. Some days I felt like I hadn’t slept all year, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

Your pug hacks.

Your deep belly barks from the kennel when we’d get back to the house after your dinnertime.

You starting to pace the house at 2:00 pm every single day, ready for dinner.

You getting under my feet in the kitchen. I’m so sorry I ever kicked you out.

You laying under my photo surface and crumb surfing anytime I had a board on the floor. 

You always needing me in your sight. 

How your chin felt when you’d prop it on my knee. 

How I’d lay in bed and listen to you, Macy and Dad all snoring and wishing I could get to sleep.

How you’d walk around the side of the house trying to find me and then come running when I came around to get you. 

How you’d get hot in the summers and plop down in the middle of the hardwood and tile to cool off. 

How you’d cozy up in the beds near the fireplace when we had one. 

How you were afraid to climb the stairs in Alameda and then one day you made it all the way down to the landing and we celebrated. 

How you were unsure about eating popcorn, strawberries and cherry tomatoes, but then Macy taught you how awesome they were.

How curious you always were and up for any adventure.

How you’d always sit on Macy. 

What an awful traveler you were until your later years and then you became the perfect traveler. When I was convinced Macy would pass first, I always pictured more road trips with you. 

How going to the kennel never phased you when we traveled. 

How you could have eaten and never stopped if we had let you, always the hungry pug. 

How soft your coat always was compared to Macy’s. 

How you loved ear scratches while Macy loves back scratches.

Thank you for reading her story and thank you for being her fan on social media. I know I won’t return to the person I was before saying good-bye to her, but at least sharing about her may help me over one of the many humps I’ve encountered over the past six months. 

It took me weeks to get back to running simply because it was so hard to come back to the house and not find her in there. Returning to work was even more difficult than that because I couldn’t see her from the kitchen or my studio. It didn’t help that I was in the middle of writing my new book when it happened and I had no choice. I still haven’t been able to return to regular yoga without her next to me. And I still tear up every time I gaze at the ocean, she loved people watching at the ocean. 

And it’s been hard to keep up with regular blog posts because she was such a big part of this process at certain points throughout the past 11 years that I’ve written it. But maybe that will get better. Maybe it won’t. Right now I don’t know. I just know I needed to share her story as a first step. Thanks again for reading.