04/07/2026
A year ago today, we let the sweetest boy ever, go. It was one of the saddest and most difficult days of my life, and I have had a lot of those.
Robert Biscuit Pugington Arnott Tolle, III, aka “Bob”, ~2008 to 06 April 2025
He was probably around 16.5, and had been dealing with a cancerous tumor on his prostate for almost a year before his passing. We were told that these issues are common in dogs who are neutered later in life.
I wasn’t able to give him a proper tribute at the time of his loss; I was too heartbroken. He was, and remains, my soul dog.
Bob was a unique guy, like they all are. But he had a certain amount of resilience and determination to thrive that surprised everyone who he came into contact with.
When I first saw his picture on Central Coast Pug Rescue’s page in April of 2016, I fell in love with him immediately. But, we weren’t ready for a dog yet.
By the time we were ready, in late October, I was shocked to see he was still available. I applied for him immediately, and Eileen connected me with his foster mom, Marci.
Marci and I had a long talk about “Pugsley”, and she explained that he had been diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure, was on a number of medications to manage the condition, and that the prognosis for this was to manage it until it became too much for his body, likely only a few years at most.
I didn’t care. I was comfortable providing whatever vet care and medications he needed, for however long he needed.
Marci was surprised. She told me that “Pugsley” had had about 6 other families apply for him and back out when they learned about his condition and the medical management required. She was sure that he was destined to live out his days with her, like others who were a hard adoption both before and after him.
We were approved to adopt him, and I made arrangements to fly to Fresno to meet “Pugsley” and Marci and fly home with him. The adoption application was officially approved on my dad’s birthday, 02 November.
After his adoption, I made arrangements for him to be evaluated by the veterinary cardiologist to make sure his CHF was appropriately managed. As part of this, they had me stop all his heart medications and supplements to get a true baseline for where he was. I remember this being very nerve wracking for me, given this “senior” (they estimated him to be between 6-8 upon rescue), I was entrusted with caring for. I did not yet know his capacity for resilience.
When I heard the cardiologist pronounce “I cannot find any evidence that this dog has CHF, and I cannot explain why he came to you with this diagnosis”, I started to understand.
The next spring, as the pollen and mold kicked up in the air, Bob started to cough. I thought, “Oh no. They were wrong, he DOES have CHF”. We went to our vet, who asked us to try allergy medication. It didn’t work. He asked us to try a different one. It didn’t work. It wasn’t until we tried Zyrtec, which works on indoor AND outdoor allergies that the coughing stopped.
When I relayed this to the vet, he asked me what the cough sounded like. If you know me, you know that I am a very good mimic. I did the cough: a deep, throaty, hoarse, long cough. Dr. Feinberg said “You know, that sounds JUST like a CHF cough. I bet that is why he got the diagnosis. A persistent cough that wouldn’t go away with either first or second line allergy treatment, and went away likely due to the change in season at the same time as the CHF medication he had been started on by that point.
It was then that I understood: he had been waiting for me to be ready for him, and did whatever he could to deter other families from going thru with an adoption.
During the 8.5 years that we had Bob, he had many adventures. But his favorite thing was friends. He made friends everywhere he went, especially if you had food and were willing to share.
He may not have had great vision, and for the last few years of his life, great hearing, but his sweet little squished nose could smell a banana being opened from across the house, and he would amble into the kitchen from whichever sunny spot he had been solar power pug charging in, to request his share: the end piece, with a bit of peanut butter on it, if you please.
He loved turkey, so much that he let us hide his pills in a slice of turkey before each meal. He was voracious for it, as long as it was the oven baked variety, not smoked. Please, mother. The horror.
As we are a bit silly in this family, Ron and I told Lilly a tall tale about why Bob, and all pugs, really, like turkey so much.
You see, turkeys are related to dinosaurs. And the reason dinosaurs went extinct, was actually, pugs. If you don’t know, pugs are truly aliens. Men in Black got that right. Pugs first landed on Earth when dinosaurs roamed. They had a fierce rivalry. Make no mistake: despite their small stature, pugs outmatched dinosaurs. In fact, the pugs ate ALL of the dinosaurs, which is why they went extinct. As time went on, Pugs retained an affinity for dinosaur, and since the closest thing to that currently is turkey, pugs REALLY love turkey.
In addition to food and mom, Bob loved to sniff. It could take us 45 minutes to go around the block, because of his tendency to slowly amble with his bent little “Queen Anne” legs, and desire to take in all the scents he missed out on before his rescue.
He had been isolated in a backyard before being rescued by Marci as a “free” giveaway on Craigslist. The first night she had him home, and let the dogs out in her yard to potty before bed, he found a corner to curl up in and was going to stay outside to sleep like he always had. She had to pick him up and carry him inside.
After a short adjustment period, Bob got accustomed to the good life. A bed in every room, sleeping on the big bed with mom and dad (much to dad’s dismay), and eventually practically on mom’s head (to mom’s dismay - personal space was not a thing for Bob when it came to me), but in reality, curled up in mom’s arm, with his head on my shoulder. I can still feel the little head shake and nuzzle he did as he settled down, and the distinctive sigh and grunt of contentment and relaxation.
Bob was a funny, handsome, cute, and goofy guy. He was grumpy at times (who isn’t?), this was understandable, given his arthritis, caused by his hypermobile joints that luxated, even standing still. I share an understanding of this pain.
Eventually, Bob upgraded from having to walk, and we got him a stroller so we could go on longer walks and take him places that were too challenging or far for him to walk on his own. I never thought I would be a stroller dog mom, but, there I was, with a tiny dog in a dog stroller. We learned, after an incident, that he needed the clip ins to encourage him to remain in the stroller and not “jump” out. He may have been aware of his physical limitations, but it never stopped him from trying.
One of my favorite memories is of him at our wedding. He and Teddy, my first pug, who decided he liked living with my mom and her boxer better than me, were part of the wedding party. Teddy walked down the aisle with my mom and aunt. Bob, our ring bearer, took his job seriously. But, he was always good at honoring his needs. When the need to p*e struck him as he hit the grass at our venue, he honored that call. When he wouldn’t advance, and Ron tugged a little at his satin ribbon leash, to no avail, my friend, Karla whispered to Ron, “I think he’s p*eing”, and everyone around them giggled, because she was as right.
Bob lived with a number of other animals in our house during the course of his time with us, and he was King of them all.
Four cats: Chloë, until 2018, Peachie, from 2018-2020, and Matilda and Blueberry from 2020 until his passing. He had a special bond with Blueberry, who we brought home as a tiny tortie terror of a kitten. She has had the hardest time with his passing.
Four dogs: a bonded male/female pair of pugs we fostered temporarily, Hank and Penny. Janie Bean, my sweet puggie girl we had only for a year, and Ozzie, the young black pug who spent the last year of Bob’s life with him.
Two young and small potbellied pigs we fostered for about 2 months, Julip and Pretzel.
Through it all, he held court as King Bob.
Bob and Lilly grew up and grew older together. She was 6 when we brought him home, and 14 when he passed. One of his favorite spots to sleep was in her beanbag chair in her room with her, when she let him.
He came to us with scars of his former life. He had a healed eye injury that would cause him trouble later on. He was missing the tip of his tail from who knows what. He was missing the tip of an ear and a bit out of the other. He was perfect to me.
Over the years, his body broke down, slowly, as it does when you approach what is equivalent to ~90 years of age.
First, he lost that eye when the injury reopened twice and after the second time would not heal. A year after, he needed surgery to deal with an infection in the remaining socket. He lost some teeth at each annual dental, and eventually had just 3 remaining the last two years of his life. It gave him the cutest little tongue belp. Couldn’t see well, couldn’t hear well, but, no bother. He was content.
It’s so hard to capture the essence of a soul like Bob in words. I could go on, say more, but I’m not sure it will make much of a difference. If you knew him, you understand.
It’s so hard to know he left us, and that he couldn’t live in this plane of existence forever. It brings me comfort knowing he is watching out for me on the other side.
Thank you for reading this tome, and for those of you who knew him personally, and from a distance, thank you for loving him.
He was the bestest boy, Bob. Bobert, Boberto, Robert, Bubba, Pugooh. My love. I miss you. Dad, girl, the kitty girls, and Oz miss you, too. ❤️
