We had a pug years ago - He was my first anniversary present and we've been married 35 years.
He was a really good pug. He had two screws in his tail so his name was Hubbell's Corkscrew - "Corky". One vet trip was because he ate a peach pit. Another was because he ate a box of staples. My favorite trip was because his tail had gone straight.
I can't remember the specifics leading up to it. But I seem to remember that my mother was involved. She probably found him messing in the house and gave him a smack with a newspaper. I was concerned that somehow that smack had broken his tail. We rushed him to the vet.
Our vet was a cantankerous, chain-smoking, sweet ol' guy. Very earthy, and the best vet I've ever known since that time. I told him the long, sorry tale (no pun intended). He stood there looking at the dog with his cigarette dangling from his mouth - slapped him on the bottom saying "Get that tail back up!" and the tail immediately corkscrewed its' way back into place.
Then he looked at me and said "He just got his feelin's hurt when he was caught doin' something he shouldn't have been doin'. He's a pouter."
He was, whenever he was punished for something, down went that tail. Eventually, you'd even hear the kids say "Get that tail up!"
Our house was INFESTED with fleas so we broke down and set off one of those bug bombs. It was about the time I had had twins. I don't remember it helping with the flea problem but even staying away a day, we saw the effects of the chemicals. One of the babies started having asthma/croup and poor Corky developed cataracts and went blind in a short time. I'm sorry to say that being busy with the twins we didn't notice until it was too late to help much.
He was a good dog with the kids but he aged faster than any dog I can remember. He always had skin problems and of course, he was blind. One night we let him out to go potty and never saw him again. We lived in the mountains and he normally would go out, and then scratch to be let back in. Busy with something else, it dawned on me hours later, that he wasn't underfoot. I asked all the kids if they had let him in, no. It was too dark out to look for him that night too far from the house. I searched every nook an cranny on the property the next day and couldn't find a trace. We had bears and mountain lions around, I suspect that something got him - or he had just wandered off to die. It was sad, I still miss him everytime I see a pug. But I rarely see one with that extra twist in their tail like he had.