Once a week now I sit at the local sushi bar where the chef’s are friendly and the food is not only an artistic endeavor but an oral explosion of scrumptious delights. Each time I order my favorites because let's face it, when a girl finds something she really likes it serves her well to stick with it.

• One avocado sesame seed salad
• 4 pieces of salmon sashimi cut into 8 small slices
• One spicy tuna roll also in 8 pieces

The presentation is so splendid that I almost don’t want to eat for fear of destroying the artists work. It would be akin to smearing soiled hands on a wet oil painting. But alas after admiring the sublime attention to detail I let myself give in to the juicy temptations, getting my weeks worth of omega 3’s all in one delectable sitting.

The sashimi is served in a lit martini glass (today the color is blue) over a bed of ice and a heaping mound of shredded white radish (daikon) and a purple orchid for me to take home or wear in my hair should an exotic mood strike me. I no longer have to voice my special request for a side of eel sauce and crunchy tempura flakes for my dipping and dripping pleasure. They just arrive on their own now, like magic.

I often stop eating for a few seconds to scribble down loose thoughts and ideas on any available paper because the words come so freely here where everything feels colorful and inspired.

The waitress is overly attentive, hovering over my shoulder waiting to fulfill my every need. Filling up my water glass when it’s still 3/4 full and swooping in to scoop up plates and sauces that I’m not anywhere near ready to part with. I think it annoys her that I like to hold onto my salad throughout the meal, picking at it and adding things along the way.

She keeps coming over to check if the bowl is empty yet, but each time she looks it becomes more full. I am not a salad / appetizer / dinner type girl, in that order. I want it all at once so I can take my time alternating bites and mixing different combinations of texture and taste. She starts talking in Japanese to one of the other waiters in a tone that suggests she is poking fun at my eating habits, simply because they do not conform with the structure that she has grown accustomed to.

And then it hits me like an Oprah Winfrey “light bulb moment,” that I am a much happier person operating this way. Not having a set day to day routine or structured environment to go to. Where everything is so plotted out and planned that you forget to want and live in the moment. To think and dream, to touch and taste, to get to this place where your head is actually clear enough to sort out the dramas of the day and focus on the things that really matter.

I realize that I am someone who feels more alive, useful, and productive in the world while living outside of the box and writing outside of the lines. Like now on a paper napkin or an a la carte menu when everything is unplanned, unscripted, and raw like sushi.

This is Sophia. She is an adorable apricot fawn little pug puppy who recently came into our Pug Rescue organization www.PPRA.org. She is only 8 weeks old and was diagnosed with Spinal Bifida which means her back legs don’t work.

Two vets suggested putting her down!! Her new vet says she is 75% perfect pug puppy but is suffering from paralysis in her hind legs. Otherwise she is a feisty, happy, little puppy who needs a forever home.

Sophia will need surgery in a few weeks. She will also need a cart in about 8 months to help her walk. If you are interested in adoption or would like to contribute to Sophia's medical treatment and her upcoming set of wheels, please email: pugrescuenyc@gmail.com.

We are trying desperately to raise some funds for her care. It would be greatly appreciated if all of the pug bloggers out there would cross post this message on your blogs and forums to help spread the word..

Many thanks in advance!

Stop by and visit Sophia’s Blog for updates: http://pugrescuenyc.blogspot.com/

And here is a video clip of Sophia in action:

The first week was rough, I won't lie or try to sugarcoat it. The words destruction, devastation, and despair were in the forefront of my mind and heart. It came and went in waves and just when I thought it was starting to get better it hit me harder than it did in the beginning when I realized I had just been floating around in a surreal phase for a while. I cried so many tears that I dried out my eye sockets. Literally, and ended up with a double infection in both corneas. I’ve been prescribed 3 special kinds of drops to build my tear production back up. Apparently I had none left. Thank you Restasis.

The second week was easier but maybe that’s because there were other big bad things going on that distracted me from the grieving process, which may have been a good thing in a way. The biggest change is that I used to enjoy being a homebody and now I find it difficult to sit home without having my little friend here….so I’ve been going out…..a lot. In fact I am hardly ever home these days. I've adapted by learning to tire myself out by doing things to the point of mental and physical exhaustion so I don't have very much idle time to sit and think. It’s just easier right now.

I’ve put some things away but can’t bring myself to part with others just yet. I’ve found little coping mechanisms that make it easier. Like inhaling his toys and blankets because they still smell so strongly of him. Then there are the videos and pictures which combined with the lingering smells kind of make it feel like he is still here, in a comforting way. I still talk to him too as if he were here, mostly asking him for advice or telling him how much I miss him, or asking him to be my pug angel and help me out with certain things.

Behind it all has been my tremendous network of friends and family who would never let me fall or sink into the emotional abyss. They let me dip my toes in, and that's about it.

I still miss him like crazy but getting the ashes back was closure and I guess I am at peace with it all.

Will you get another dog?

This is the number one question I get asked and probably the one that bothers me the most. I know it’s meant with good intentions but…..how? How can I possibly even think of that right now? I won’t even entertain the thought. Probably not for years. I understand this is how a lot of people cope like when relationships end and they are able to find comfort in moving quickly from one directly to another, to help soothe the burn. But that is not my way. To me it feels like a betrayal because my heart hasn’t really begun to heal. Aside from the emotional elements, it’s a huge commitment and not one I am equipped to take on at this point. It’s time for me to be selfish and focus on me for a while.

You have to feel good about being the best pug mom ever

Yeah, but……I don’t think I am anything special for the way I cared for him. Anyone who knew the Sausage would have done the same. He was more human than most people I know.

Will you keep blogging?

I don’t know the answer to this one. I am no fool, I know that Pugsley was the rock star here and the main reason that many of you came to read.

I’ve thought about ending the blog altogether and closing this chapter. I’ve toyed with the idea of starting a new anonymous blog where I don’t have to water down my content and make it fit for human consumption given the amount of anonymity I've lost as a result of being interviewed by a national newspaper. And then I could get back to why I really started blogging …..without having to worry about what people will think. I’ve considered a redirect to a new URL but I don’t feel like that would be the right thing either.

Whatever I decide I have no immediate plans to shut the blog down. I still have things to say. I still have stuff to work out, and given all the losses in my life lately I think it’s important for me to keep as many of my “normal” routines going as possible. While I believe change is good, I think too much change all at once can be a big shock to the system, and not in a good way.

I might put a poll out to my readers on this one. Will you continue to read now that it’s just me?

What will you do next?

Well…..I’ve thought about doing something completely outrageous and unlike me. Like climbing Machu Picchu or going to chant with the monks in Tibet for a couple months. But honestly, I’m not feeling all that energetic right now. Instead I am going to take a much needed rest because I’ve been pushing really hard for a really long time and I think I need to slam on the brakes and regain some perspective on life. I am going to network and do projects I’ve been putting off. I am going to sleep, play golf, and go to the gym every day. I’m going to take yoga, Pilates, and kick boxing classes and burn all of my video footage of Pugsley onto DVD’s because they are my most valuable possession right now and I never want to lose them. I am going to refuel my mind, body, and spirit and when I’m ready I will go out and kick ass again. Because that is what the Sausage would want me to do.

A couple days later I was sitting in my chair again smoking a cigarette, trying to figure out where to go from here and how I would even find the strength to go anywhere. I looked over to my right side and there was the frog again. This time stuck to the white gutter that runs down the west side of my garden. He was inches away from my face and staring intently into my eyes. It kind of freaked me out. Being the part Cherokee Indian that I am, I later came inside and Googled "Tree Frog medicine" to find out what the ancients believe it means when one comes into your life. Here is what it said:

"FROG – Frog is the keeper of the element of Water and the cleansing power of rain on the earth. This also allows Frog to help us by being the caller and cleanser of our emotions. The Frog also brings the message of the fresh start of a new life. It is time to cleanse all around you and create a space for new life to begin."

I don’t think it was a coincidence that the frog happened into my life at this exact time of emotional turbulence. I haven’t seen him in a couple days but as crazy as it sounds that little messenger of life helped power me through one of those difficult fork-in-the road moments and somehow let me know that all was meant to be and all the wrongs would be made right again, in time.

On the lid reads the following poem:

Do not weep for me when I no longer dwell
among the wonders of the earth; for my larger
self is free, and my soul rejoices on the other
side of pain...on the other side of darkness.

Do not weep for me, for I am a ray of sunshine
that touches your skin, a tropical breeze
upon your face, the hush of joy within your heart
and the innocence of babes in mother's arms.
I am the hope in a darkened night. And, in your
hour of need, I will be there to comfort you.
I will share your tears, your joys, your fears,
your disappointments and your triumphs.

Do not weep for me, for I am cradled
in the arms of God. I walk with the angels,
and hear the music beyond the stars.

Do not weep for me, for I am within you;
I am peace, love, and a soft wind that caresses
the flowers. I am the calm that follows a
raging storm. I am an autumn's leaf that floats
among the garden of God, and I am pure
white snow that softly falls upon your hand.

Do not weep for me, for I shall never die,
as long as you remember me...
with a smile and a sigh.

I also stashed a number of his things that I've collected over the years. Teeth, claws that fell off, whiskers, and fur.
Someday it will all be buried with me. Until then I think I've chosen a nice resting place for my special friend. I am glad to have him home.

Good times.

It’s all the little day to day reminders that he is no longer here. It’s waking up and not taking him outside as I have every morning for the last 14 years. It’s passing by his empty food and water bowls knowing that I don’t have to fill them. It’s looking at his empty bed and knowing I’ll never see him laying in it. It’s being out and knowing wherever I am that I don’t have to be home at a certain time. It’s looking at a box full of toys that he will never play with again. It’s coming out of the shower to not find him there waiting to lick my legs. It’s cooking in the kitchen and not having him poke his head in the pantry or trot around at my feet waiting for a crumb to fall. It’s going to sleep at night without tucking him in and kissing good night. It’s lying on the couch and not having his warm body to tuck my feet under. It’s walking in the door and not having his happy face greet me. It’s not hearing the squeaks of his toys, the snorts of his nose, the grunts from his chest, the woofs, the barks, the growls, and the pants. It’s walking down the pet aisle at the grocery store and choking back tears. It’s missing the touch of his fur and the smell of his face. It’s catching myself doing things that I no longer have to do; like keeping food up high so it’s out of his reach, leaving the bathroom door open so he can come in, and not throwing my underwear on the floor because I know he’s going to steal them. It’s having to refer to him in terms of “was”, not “is”.

The house is empty. But my heart is full.

It’s full of sweet memories of times gone by that I would not trade for all the riches in the world. It’s full of comfort in the choices I’ve made that I now know were the right ones to make. It’s full of gratefulness to friends far and near. It’s full of blessings for prayers that were heard, questions that were answered, and pain that was spared. It’s full of determination to honor his memory with happiness, not sadness. It’s full of thankfulness for a wonderful life lived with no regrets. It’s full of faith that someday we will be together again. It’s full of the belief that I now have a special pug angel watching over me.

How can I feel bad when such a beautiful life was lived to its fullest and his spirit is free? It’s a selfish kind of sadness. Not sad for him, but sad for me.

http://www.pugsplace.com/presentation/Pugsley_tribute.pps

At some point I'll upload to Youtube for larger viewing.

In the end Sausage did things as he has always done; in his own way, at his own time, on his own terms.

That is all I can say for now. My heart hurts. I need to go into seclusion for a while. I will post again when I am able.

Thank you again for all your prayers and well wishes. I believe they were all heard and we were truly blessed right up until the end.

Please light a candle tonight for my baby to help shine his way to the bridge, where my Nana and Papa and other family pets will be waiting for him.

If you would like to make a donation to one of the following organizations in Pugsley's memory, please use these links::

Morris Animal Foundation, Cure Canine Cancer

Precious Pugs Rescue and Adoption

Please keep my darling Sausage in your prayers..

As a result, in person I am often mistaken for being aloof or stuck up, a misconception that I've lived with most of my adult life. When in reality I am just shy and choose to exercise caution around people that I don't know well or don't trust. It’s a protective device that comes from being burned too many times and from the cautious, practical Capricorn traits I inherited by way of the stars, if you believe in astrology. When it comes to meeting new people then, I need to be pursued. They usually have to be the ones to approach me and make me feel safe or "invited" before I will let them in. With the blog, it's different. You have invited yourself here of your own free will, sought me out. So in my mind it's the reader’s problem if they don't like what they hear or see. When it comes to real life however, that is another story.

Let me set up this scene for you to better illustrate…

It is Saturday afternoon at the gym. I am feeling super confident in my Victoria's Secret low rise yoga fold over pants in black with matching racer-back sports bra. I am tan and sweaty. My stomach is bare, showing right down to my hip bones and the low rise of my yoga pants is hitting just low enough in the back to expose my Dimples of Venus, but not so low that you can see any butt crack. The hair is pulled up high on the top of my head with strategically placed bobby pins holding my bangs out of the way. I am on the Stair master letting my hips grind up and down in a slow but controlled motion.

It's dark and raining outside. Old school tunes are blasting from the loud speaker because its 80's music day. The air in the gym is rife with pheromones, testosterone, estrogen, and endorphins all comingling together.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot a hot guy across the gym in the weight room area and I notice him checking me out. Every time I glance over he is glancing back. I continue on with my ½ hour on the stair climber looking back his way every so often. A few times we catch the other one looking but you pretend to be coy, like you are looking at something else. I can see in the mirror that he keeps walking up behind me presumably to fill up his water bottle, but really he keeps checking out my booty. I feign unawareness, flipping through the pages of Self Magazine as the length of my stride becomes a little bit slower, a little more deliberate. Then it is on to the elliptical machine for more of the same.

After an hour into my workout I move out of the cardio section and into the circuit training area. Now I am standing between the leg press and calf press machines taking a sip of my water bottle. A few droplets escape and proceed to trickle down my lower lip, onto my chin just when the muscle bound guy was walking towards me and the leg machine…I scooped up my gym towel and patted myself dry as he shamelessly and without looking away watched the whole thing. Guys are so arrogant that way, locking eyes onto you from across the room, sauntering over with a fixed gaze never leaving their target.

"You missed," he quipped and smiled a very sexy smile at me. I smiled a head-down, eyelash batting smile back and all I could counter with was a very sheepish, "Pretend you didn't just see that". And I turned away from him out of sheer embarrassment or shyness, I’m not sure which. And on I went to the next circuit. He watched tenaciously as I mounted each machine. Leg curl, Lat pull down, Ab crunch, Tricep extension. There was no way I was getting on the hip abductor or adductor machines in this already sexually charged sports plot that I found myself in. Like something you'd see in the first 5 minutes of a really bad Vivid Entertainment film.

He watched my form and definition with every set and rep. I could see him indirectly through mirrors and my peripheral vision following me, staying close, and working machines behind mine. I felt hunted. And I liked it. He was trying to find another opportunity to say something or make another move.

But I never gave him one. Why not? What the F is wrong with me?

At this precise moment in time, would you believe what 80's song was blasting over the loud speaker but this one, by Kajagoogoo:

Tongue tied or short of breath, don't even try, try a little harder
Something's wrong, I'm not naive, you must be strong
Ooh, baby, try
Hey girl, move a little closer.
You're too shy shy hush hush, eye to eye
Too shy shy hush hush, eye to eye
Too shy shy hush hush, eye to eye
Too shy shy hush hush…

I took it as a blatant warning sign from the universe telling me that some things have got to change.

It didn't matter that in my mind I was mentally clutching onto his glistening biceps and imagining a life where those big strong arms were holding me at night, telling me everything is going to be okay. And I actually believed it. Did not matter that he had all of his hair, was neither fat, bald, nor short..OR that I have not been on a really good date in like, forever. Did not matter that he was totally giving me every opportunity to reciprocate the flirt…I just didn't. Or couldn't.

Afterwards I thought of a hundred lines I could have flirted back with; like "That's impressive, I can only press about 100 lbs with my legs" or "Do you work here, are you a personal trainer" as in because your chiseled body must have been hand sculpted by the Greek God Zeus himself, with the perfect amount of muscle and meat.

Granted with everything else going on in my life lately I have not exactly been feeling like I'm bringing my A game to every social interaction. And dating has not been a priority or even an entertaining thought in my mind these days. Far from it. But I totally irked myself because it wasn't that I was feeling insecure or not confident; it wasn't that at all. It wasn't that I was not receptive to sparking a conversation and seeing where it might go. I was. It was about playing it too safe and being afraid that anything I said or did might come off sounding…oh, too presumptuous, too interested, or too slutty.

Now since we are both Saturday afternoon gym patrons it is highly likely that our paths will cross again and I'll have an opportunity to right this wrong. Should I challenge myself to flirt back? What could I say differently next time? What would you have done in the same situation? I am open to suggestions because clearly, I am a total boob when it comes to this stuff.

Pugsley and I slept ‘til 10:30, had a lazy morning snuggling and nuzzling

11:44: went to vet to pick up pill pockets and book check up for sausage

12:00: Went to see dad at brother’s house and visit new nephew on his 7 month birthday. His eyes lit and he made a big smile when he saw me coming towards him…he is starting to recognize his auntie..Yay!

Dad gave me fresh veggies from his garden; zucchini, tomatoes, green peppers, string beans.

Played with baby for hour and a half, he didn’t get cranky at all..

Baby said first words when grandpa instructed, “say Da Da”, there was a silent pause for 2 seconds and in the sweetest little voice, looking at my brother he cooed, “Da Da” right then and there, on command. It was too perfect! We all clapped and he knew he did something really special.

2:00: Went to gym, had awesome intense work out. Hot gym guy flirted with me while circuit training.

4:00: Left gym, went grocery shopping, loaded up on fresh meats, fruits, and veggies

5:00: Came home ogled pug, made late lunch

6:00: Took power nap with Sausage, fell asleep with my hand on his belly

7:00: Woke up, made a batch of sausage and peppers using Dad’s fresh garden vegetables

8:30: Took shower, got ready to go out

9:15: dropped Pugsley off with his nanny, tucked him into a fort and kissed him on the head

9:30: left to meet friends at bar: good food, good music, good company

1:15: Arrive home, collect Sausage and crash...

All days should be like this.

He is such a good boy…minding his manners through all of this.

The other side effect of prednisone is extreme HUNGER. He is hungry and preoccupied with food all the time. When I had “the talk” with the doctor I asked if at this point I can just give him whatever he wants. The answer was a resounding yes. "Let him live it up," he said.

One Christmas many years ago when I mistakenly left a cup of Baileys Irish Cream sitting on the coffee table within pug nose reach, I came into the room to find a drunken euphoric pug. Any time since when I’ve cracked open a bottle, the smell drives him wild. He remembers the smell and the taste and goes absolutely crazy for it. I think it may be his favorite thing on the planet.

So now we have a new nightly routine that consists of a little bowl of vanilla ice cream (his other favorite) topped off with a teaspoon or so of Bailey’s. Oh the joy it gives the little smush just warms my heart all up inside.

Needless to say he still loves life, maybe more now than ever. This is a good thing.....but I have a sick feeling it will also be bad. I mean, most dogs let you know when they’ve had enough. They stop eating, stop playing toys, stop walking, stop enjoying life and that’s how you know when it’s time. The answer is clear. I am afraid this isn’t going to be the case here. Especially now that there is Irish whiskey and filet mignon involved.

Quality of life is not an issue, at least not now. The issue, without getting too graphic and to spare his dignity, is multiple tumors growing in a place that when big enough (and they are growing at a very rapid rate) will interfere with normal bodily functions. I can’t let it get to that point or there would be suffering and toxicity involved. And I won’t have that. Not at all.

We are looking then at a mechanical issue. One that I have no control over and need to be proactive about. The downside is that I am afraid he will still be loving his day to day life, and that will make what I have to do all the harder.

People have questioned me over the years about why I blog and put it all out there.

First they would need to understand that I don’t put all that much out. I have a filter in my head that screens out anything that might offend, come across the wrong way, and hurt me in the long run or someone else that I care about before I hit publish on every entry. That leaves about 5% of my life that I actually write about here and the other 95% that I keep to myself or only share with a close circle of friends.

I can also assure you it’s not all about being narcissistic as we bloggers can tend to be. And it’s not about trying to fill some void of something that is missing. It’s more about wanting to capture moments in time, to have a voice and an interactive sense of community with an external support system that becomes evident in the outpouring of compassion and understanding that I receive on a daily basis. Things that people in your own inner circle may not be able to relate to, but someone in South Africa can. Someone beautiful and colorful who you'd not get the chance to meet otherwise.

It’s about getting an email from a reader in Sandusky Ohio telling you that they are dealing with the same exact thing, how much your words have resonated with them, and how they are looking to you to draw guidance and strength with the same grace and honesty when it’s their time to go through it. Or maybe its a comment from someone who has already gone through it and they are the ones giving you the strength and advice.

That is why.

You’ll have to forgive me for not making every post about the sad things that go on, understanding that I can’t drag myself through that sea of emotions every day (when it is already my reality) and that sometimes the blog serves as an escape from it all. Free therapy if you will.

Bad things happen but life still has to be lived and enjoyed as best we can….or we all might go a little insane......If the Sausage could talk, I am sure he would be the first to tell you that. He tells me every time I look at that sweet face and can see his great lust for life in the twinkle of those big brown eyes..I try to take my cues from him.

I appreciate all of the emails and comments, the prayers, support and kindness. Forgive me if I am unable to respond to them all, but know that it is appreciated. More than I can ever express or do justice to, in words on a blog.