lately i’ve been teasing B that we’re going to get ourselves a little pug. i’ve loved them for some time and think having a pug would be cooler than greek yogurt with honey. B isn’t exactly enthusiastic about the idea but indulges me from time to time. he lacks the pet gene; i always had pets growing up, but he never did. anyway, i know it’s a farfetched dream but i do squeal whenever i see a pug out walking. i even have a name picked out: piggy.
on our way to his parents’ house yesterday, we stopped for some donuts and coffee. i saw a pug from across the highway, sitting and all happy and perfect. i prayed he’d be there by the time we got our coffee so i could meet him. i was in luck! mr. pug was tied up outside waiting for his owners, who were in line ahead of us in the shop. i asked if i could meet their dog and then went outside to say hi.
he was a snorting ball of joy, licking my hands and doing spins and so soft and nice. the owner told me how they make great companions but not good watch dogs because they like people too much. i asked if they shed a lot and if they’re easy to train and then, i asked what the dog’s name was and the man answered the most perfect, astonishing and earth-shattering answer: PIGGY.
it’s only a matter of time now, i can feel it.
i promise here and now to not be one of those dog people: there will be no dog in the bed, no dog eating from my mouth, no dog licking his butt and then licking my face and no do dog in the bed! people! dog in the bed! DOG IN THE BED. get a dog bed. they’re not that much. and i won’t talk all baby shit booga woogy talk to the dog. at least not around you.
