We work with a rescue organization in New York that specializes in pugs. Dr. S has an obsession with the breed. In the morning he drinks his coffee out of a mug with his name and the slogan “a man among pugs.” He has a tiny pug at home who wears a pink tutu on their evening walks. So pug groups naturally flock to us.
A word about rescue organizations. There is a love/hate relationship between veterinarians and rescue groups, at least I’ve been told. These groups will throw thousands and thousands of dollars into an animal that is terminal, has behavioral issues, pets that our veterinarians deem unadoptable. I understand the logic behind what they’re doing. They love all animals, and they want to save them. But sometimes it seems to be misguided resources. Last summer, they sent us a pug who had some sort of disorder where her body wouldn’t make any fat. She was pure skeleton, hairless, sticky skin that leaked a urine-smell. She was also ravenous. She had multiple surgeries to remove an abundance of foreign bodies. Socks, paper towels, etc. This of course means she also loved to eat her own feces. We had to watch her relentlessly. The second she pooped, we had to dive toward her cage and fetch it out before she devoured it.
The rescue group poured thousands and thousands of dollars into her care. She eventually was adopted by a wealthy artist in Soho, go figure. But it is a frustrating debate. With all the dogs in the world that need help, need saving, is it really wise to put so much of your resources into a dog like that?
Lola-Mae, however, is a different story. This little lady was hit by a car. It shattered her hip and her eye. Her family was unable to afford medical care and surrendered her to the rescue organization. Immediately after she came to us, the doctors performed an ennucleation to remove the eye. Despite her pelvis being shattered, she’s learned to walk with a sideways gait.
Everyone in the office is in love. She sits in her cage with her forelegs always delicately crossed in front of her. We joke around and call her princess, because whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. Dr. S started bringing in roast chicken for her that he made at home. The one day he forgot to replenish her supply he gave me cash and had me run to a grocery store to buy her a rotisserie chicken. (I used the change to buy myself a Kit-Kat bar) Lola-Mae won’t eat anything but chicken now. She whines when she’s in her cage, because she’s so used to being free to hop about the clinic, sit in one of a number of plush beds provided for her.
There’s no word yet from her family about when they are going to take her back. But I know there are at least two doctors at the clinic who are in a hypothetical battle about who gets to take her home. I do see the level of adoration thrown upon her as a bit ridiculous. But I contribute to it. I can’t help it. I’ve fallen for her too.
Chrissy's Blog 
SHE IS SO CUTE.
Touching story about Lola-Mae, thank you for sharing.