Pete the Dog is my French Bulldog. He’s a hot mess. He looks like something a kindergartner drew during indoor recess. He’s got these giant eyeballs — one of which tends to wander off like it’s on its own little vacation — so you’re never really sure what he’s looking at. They don’t seem like they belong in his face, either. It’s as if someone poked a couple of olives into a baked potato and said, “Good enough.” The rest of him is a barrel with stick legs. And he has no idea how solid he is. I have bruises from all the times he’s body-checked me at full speed (probably while looking at me with the wrong eye). I’m convinced he’s secretly on Urgent Care’s payroll.
“Failed again this morning when she tried to feed me. Will attempt to knock her over later when she opens the door.”
His favorite hobby? Eating the trash out of my daughter’s bathroom.
“Can you believe it? She left me all these delicious treats! And I ate them all so you don’t have to bring them to the garbage can. Who’s a good boy now? That’s right. It’s me.”
In January, he had a series of massive seizures. The prognosis was grim — likely a brain tumor. When he finally came home from a long weekend at the emergency vet hospital, he was a shell of himself. My hilarious, chunky little man just walked endless laps around the perimeter of the living room, like he was doing a one-dog prison yard circuit. He couldn’t get on the couch, and if we put him up there, he wouldn’t sit still long enough for a cuddle.
With this awful diagnosis came the diapers. Large reusable doggie diapers — the kind you’d put on a goat or maybe a circus monkey. And he hated them. He’d roll, wiggle, and Houdini his way out every single time, leaving a trail of filth in his wake like a crime scene. I tried different brands, styles, added suspenders, even considered duct tape at one point, just to get the diapers to stay on. And, was he ever a sight. I was now the proud owner of a google-eyed, barrel-bodied dog in a diaper with suspenders holding them up. The only thing missing was a bow tie and some symbols.
As if adding insult to injury, one day his ear puffed up — looked like someone had glued a crab rangoon to the side of his potato head. I figured he probably injured it while trying to escape his diaper again. It didn’t seem to bother him, but I took him to the vet anyway because, well… Pete the Dog.
Turns out it was an ear infection that needed surgery. Since when did ear infections cause ears to puff up like something you’d order with a side of Sweet Chili Sauce? The vet asked if I wanted to pay for cosmetic reconstruction to make it look like a Frenchie ear again. On a dog with a brain tumor that already looks like a Mr. Potato Head reject with a head injury? Not so much.
I dropped off a hot-mess Frenchie and a few hours later picked up an angry Polish Babushka, furious that I insulted her borscht. Pete the Dog now sported a green wrap with wires flattening down his ear so it wouldn’t re-inflate. He strutted out like he’d just been through a makeover on a budget reality show.
And honestly? I laughed so hard I nearly needed to borrow one of his diapers.
The poor thing. Pete the Dog looked like a yard sale — diaper, suspenders, head wrap, and one rogue eyeball pointing toward the heavens. But you know what? He didn’t care. Just owned that look and went on his next trash eating excursion like his outfit was just another cool thing he was rocking.
Ten months later he’s still with me, walking around in circles and staring into the abyss. I know the day is coming soon for my final goodbye. Pete the Dog may look like a taxidermy experiment gone rogue, but he’s still the happiest little disaster I know. Every day he wakes up ready to love, snack, and trip me on the way to the coffee maker.
We should all be so resilient. And so weirdly confident in suspenders.
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Tracy Winslow is currently preparing for the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. She is pretty sure Pete the Dog will be a top contender for Best in Show. When she is not sending Pete for spa treatments, she is planning fun classes and events for the BEST yarn store in the Low Country - Shrimp and Knits. Check out all the fun things to do for everyone (even non-knitters/crocheters) at https://shrimpandknits.com/