Ruston is number nine!

My favorite memory of my pug Ruston is when he came into the rescue I run (APARN - Arizona Pug Adoption and Rescue Network). The Sheriff’s office busted a puppy mill, and the rescue took in numerous pugs, most with medical issues.

The newscasts about the Tonopah Puppy Mill Pugs featured the recurring theme of how the pugs all looked so healthy. Funny thing about pugs though is that many of their congenital issues (stenotic nares, elongated soft palate, dry eye, luxating patellas, etc.) aren’t seen by looking at them; these issues are diagnosed at the vet clinic, by a qualified, well educated, professional veterinarian.

APARN asked for the pugs that were older, had issues walking, were blind, or clearly in need of eye care or tumor removals; in short, the pugs that needed us. One pug caught my eye immediately, a beautiful apricot male, about five years old. I named him Ruston, and for some inexplicable reason, I just felt I was supposed to foster him.

After his dental cleaning a few days later, I picked up Ruston and brought him home. A compact little pug, he weighed in at 17.5 pounds. A little groggy still from his anesthesia, Ruston’s first night was uneventful, and he slept soundly in his crate.

The next morning, all the pugs went outside for potties, and Ruston took his cues from the most unlikely role model, three-year-old Nikki, a small black female pug with seizure disorder caused by hydrocephalus. In fact, just thinking about it reminded me of the old Charles Barkley Nike commercial where he proclaimed, “I am NOT a role model.” It’s not that Nikki is a bad pug; she just doesn’t always understand the difference between doing what she wants to at the moment or doing what she really should do … nor does she even care to know the difference.

Ruston was a quiet boy, withdrawn, living in his own world inside his head. He seemed to come with a lot of emotional baggage. No wonder I was drawn to him; these were the types of pugs I enjoyed working with. It’s always been the ones that seem to have no more faith in people; the ones that have given up all trust that human kindness exists; the ones that have created their own little world and edge further and further into it with each passing day.

For the most part, Ruston’s first week was filled with a lot of snuggling, petting, and speaking to him softly. He seemed to relax slightly, but I could tell he was still holding back, hesitant to let go and trust me.

After the first week, his overall quiet personality was punctuated with bouts of running to the dining room, standing and barking at the wall for 30 seconds or so, and then running to the living room, whining for a moment, then escalating to another fit of barking at a wall. It quickly became apparent that he was indeed a typical puppy mill pug, with a high level of PTSD from all his emotional baggage.

Ruston was not a pug who could have all his issues “fixed” in a week or two. His issues were deep-seated and could take months for him to really learn to relax and trust again. His anxiety level was high enough to ask the vet for something to help him calm down, so he started on anti-anxiety meds as needed.

It seemed though, that aside from the frenetic bouts of wall-barking, Ruston spent an inordinate amount of time sleeping, or just laying around. He just seemed a bit too lethargic for a five-year-old pug. I took him to the vet to make sure he didn’t have valley fever. I also wanted to check on his back legs, because he didn’t lift his leg to pee like a normal dog would; when he lifted his back leg to pee, he looked like he had a T-Rex arm as a back leg.

The doctor ruled out valley fever, as that test had been done during his first week in rescue, and he was negative. Next up were x-rays of his hips. Because he is such a compact little pug, it was easy to get his entire spine on the x-ray. This feat was also made easy due to the fact he has scoliosis (his spine curves off to one side, rather than going straight), and he has a huge u-shaped dip in his spine just past his neck. I have seen enough pug x-rays over the last 15 years to know that not only was his spine a mess but so were his hips.

After a moment of silent staring, “Oh my God,” was all I could manage to say. One side of his hips didn’t have anything even resembling a femoral head or socket, and the other side had a very shallow socket and femoral head that looked like a deformed cauliflower stalk. Finally, I said, “So basically, he isn’t really lethargic, he is just in pretty bad pain.” The doctor nodded. “I think so. We can start him on Tramadol and Metacam, and if that doesn’t seem to help, maybe add Gabapentin.” I said, “Ok, I also have Omega 3 fish oil caps and Joint supplements so I will add those.”

The good news is six weeks of meds really made a difference in Ruston’s physical abilities. He began using a small ottoman to climb up on the sofa by himself. And he enjoyed going out in the backyard to explore. He still lifts his leg like a T-Rex arm, and probably always will, but at least it is not painful for him. He will likely remain on the medications and supplements for the rest of his life.

Emotionally, he still had a very long way to go. After five months, he still didn’t understand what toys were all about. He learned “Sit” but only when getting his daily meds. He still had days when he needed the anti-anxiety meds, and nights when he woke up crying. And maybe the saddest of all, he still had no idea what pug kisses were, but I was determined to show him so much love he simply had to get there!

It was then that I knew Ruston would not be leaving my home. After 16 years of pug rescue, I had only adopted eight pugs. Ruston was finally number nine.

And now, six years later, just looking at this happy little pug boy makes me so happy. And yes, he loves to give me pug kisses!