Pugfest, Day 1

Thursday, May 14, about 7:50 a.m. as we are rolling out of town:

Me: “Guys, I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m trying to be a better person.”

Someone in the van, yelling loudly: “It’s about time!”

😂

Well played. 😂😂

Top 5 horror stories

Here’s my Top 5 Horror Stories (PTSD edition)

- On telling a relative of my PTSD diagnosis: “You need to work on your hateful attitude.” Thanks for your love and support.

- “The things you say happened, did they actually happen or did they just happen in your head?” Thanks for the question. The events actually happened. 

- “You need to just get over it.” Thanks. I hadn’t thought of that. 

- Two weeks after my traumatic event: “You must feel better now, right?” No. No I don’t. Also this is kind of gaslighty and totally creepy.

- “Well that happened to me and I don’t have PTSD.” Cool. Congrats. 

Bonus one: “This is all just in your head.” Yeah, I’m aware of that. Thanks for the info. 👍

Another bonus: “Bitch. You need therapy.” Thanks. I’ve gone to therapy for years. Also this is abuse. 

Most of it you learn with age

Her hair was blonde and curly and she looked absolutely adorable.

Space was tight in the crowed arena, and when she sat down she got my attention by tapping my shoulder. 

“We’re going to have extra space,” she said. “I have both these seats and the other person didn’t come.”

I didn’t ask for more information, but I put the pieces together the best I could. 

Why is this cute girl alone? And what jerk decided they had something better to do that night?

I asked her where she was from, and said a small town a ways away.

My dad grew up in that town.

I asked her if she’d ever been to a concert alone, and she said no. She added that yesterday was her birthday and she didn’t want to come alone, but decided to drive a few hours to Kansas City as a birthday treat to herself.

Oh, girl. I’ve been where you are, I thought. I’ve bought concert tickets for a man who decided someone else was better a time or two in my life.

I told her the plus side of doing things solo is that no man is beside you bitching the entire time. 

She agreed and smiled. Plus, when she wakes up tomorrow she can do anything she wants! She doesn’t have to take anybody else’s wants into consideration.

During the concert she looked at her phone a lot and texted a lot.

I kept my mouth shut, but I thought girl, stop chasing someone who doesn’t want you. Get rid of him and find someone better (or find yourself).

After the concert we said our goodbyes. “Thanks for talking to me. Not everyone would have done that.”

You’re welcome, beautiful girl. 

What I didn’t tell her is that I once had Eric Church concert tickets, and I planned to go with a man who I literally begged to stop cheating on me. 

Literally, I begged him to stop. He didn’t.

Moral of the story: Do things alone. And always, always, always go to the concert.

Those I’ve Loved

There’s a song that always hits me in the emotions at concerts. As soon as I hear the first few chords, I know the tears are going to come soon.

That song is Those I’ve Loved. 

The song has the word ‘Denver’ in it, so I expect to hear it Colorado. I was not emotionally prepared to hear it in St. Louis. It punched me in the feelings. 

The song goes ‘I wouldn’t be who I am today if not for those I’ve loved along the way.’

At the concert, I started bawling. I don’t cry much anymore, if ever. For the past couple of years, I’ve struggled so much with anxiety, depression and PTSD and the crying factory has closed since then.

On Saturday night, I thought about the guy who I thought was going to propose on Christmas Eve one year. We danced and cooked in my kitchen and drank wine. I thought buddy, this moment is perfect and you are perfect and I hope that ring in your pocket is perfect, too.

We broke up two days later.

I thought about the guy who married the girl he cheated on me with. And then I thought about the guy whose family was fantastic but we just weren’t right for each other.

Part of the song: “I don’t regret the day that she became one of those I’ve loved along the way.”

And now I’m crying. 

When I hear that song I think about people I’ve fought with and fired from my life. I think about my family, people who used to be friends and a ton of other people, too.

I didn’t even try to wipe the tears away at the concert. Emotions, feelings and grief are weird and they have a way of showing up during happy moments sometimes. 

So one February night in St. Louis, I just let the tears fall. Getting emotions out, finally, is healthy. 

I think. 

The song: “She was my best friend, and it broke my heart the day that she became one of those I’ve loved along the way.”

I’m going to go cry now. 

Chiefy.

I haven’t posted on this here blog for a long time.

One day I might tell that story. Until then, I want to talk about my boy dog, Chief, aka Chiefy, aka Chiefo or sometimes butthole or sometimes something worse.

I’ve had Chiefy almost two years. It is not an understatement to say that he is the boy Pug of my dreams. 

He’s a good man, a handsome man, a good kisser and a good listener. He likes belly rubs, supper time, bones and chewies, his toy cupcakes and he has a special toy monkey that he humps every night before bed.

Weird? Yeah. But you get used to a Pug humping his monkey eventually. 

After I lost Penny I wasn’t sure if I would survive without her. I never imagined life without her. And then I met Chief, our souls vibed and he walked into my life 1.5 weeks after I put my soul dog down.

My favorite thing about him is what he did for his older sister Pickles. Chief taught Pickles how to be a Pug. He taught her how to dog.

For the first six months Pickles ignored her brother and pretended like he didn’t exist. But she watched everything he did and mimicked his behavior.

Chief is on the couch? Pickles is on the couch. Chief got into something he shouldn’t have? Pickles is there beside him.

Chief barks? Pickles barks.

For most of Pickles’ life, she was raised in my home, which was kind of like a senior citizen retirement home for Pugs. Pickles hung out with her two besties, and they didn’t do a whole lot in their elder years. 

Pickles grieved Penny hard. It was heartbreaking to see.

But then a giant monkey-humping boy walked into our lives.

Chief fixed his sister’s broken heart. Mine, too. 

Thanks for adopting us buddy. We love our big linebacker boy. 😍

Life lately.

January 2026 was exactly 732 days long. I had surgery, was scared out of my mind for it, and then spent a couple of weeks only able to use one hand. 

And then came a sweet reprieve - a new month for a new start and new beginnings.

On the first day of February, I heard a sound. What the hell?

I took the photo below from my balcony, after I watched the driver crawl out of the car window and walk away barefoot.

My neighbor cut her seatbelt with scissors I tossed down to him. My neighbor also asked me for paper towels, but I don’t buy those so I tossed him a roll of toilet paper. 

Also, I called 911 right away.

Happy February to you and yours from me and mine. Life is a lot like a box of chocolates and sometimes you look out your window to a luxury car upside down. 

Car playlist

If you can’t go from Shaggy to Chris LeDoux, get out of my car.