A Pug’s Life

Oscar has never wanted to food or attention.  He hasn’t had a restless night, but has instead taken up a section of our queen size bed, or our couch or the backseat of our car for years.  He’s only slept on the floor by choice, in the glow of the afternoon sun for a nap.  There aren’t kids around to pull at his ears or his curly tail (although I am guilty of playing with his “arms” in a human-type way).  He has toys in each room of the house and has a huge yard to play in.  He is incredibly loved.

He also mopes around on occasion like he is owed something.  He begs for food at every occasion, relentlessly.  His comfort means that his hair is stuck on everything we own, despite the season.  He still hasn’t learned to pick up his own “business” either.  He barks at kids and neighborhood folk as if he owns the town and I’m convinced that he tries to kill us by dropping toys in dangerous places, like the middle of the stairs or near a door, out of the tub or pretty much any location where it blends in and does not appear obvious.  We call him the town terror.  He’s too smart for us and tricked me into feeding him a second helping of dinner last night.  I should have known his “feed me” dance was a little cautious, like he was testing me to see if I’d fall for it.  I did.  My husband fed him less than five minutes before.  He knew our routine and took advantage.

He has moods like we do, but it’s hard to take him seriously when his tongue doesn’t fit in his mouth all the time.  When he’s sleepy, his bulgy eyes don’t work together and sometimes he blows snot bubbles out of his nose.  We get happy about that because it means his nose is working that day and not sealed shut.  He is the oddest animal I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving.

This is what I will see before I close my eyes tonight.  He is, Oscar the Dog.  And I love him like he was my kid.

Puggy Love

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Pugs are pretty popular. Ours has been popular since we got him eight years ago. Locally, he has following. A few years ago, girls in my brother’s high school had designed shirts with his picture on it and people constantly ask about him as if he’s our actual child. I don’t know if it’s because the dog is special, or we are…

Oscar Irwin found his way into my heart 8 years ago, at a time when pretty much any responsibility seemed like a hassle. He reminded us of George Burns, with his rawhide looking like a cigar and his old man face.  I won’t bore you with the details, but I knew I had to have him; even though the seller told me he was discounted because he was “defective”.  That’s right, she called my dog defective.  He is not a dented can of soup; he is a living and barely breathing pug. There was no way I could leave him with those people.  I have an idea, stop allowing people to interbreed their dogs.

Anyway, despite his “defective” breathing, he is a character.  I got a pug training book once and I kid you not, the first line said: “So you want to train your pug, good luck”. Still I can’t imagine our home without the sound of snorting or the click-clack of his little paws as he tap dances down the hallway.

I suspect that this may attract the same people who watch the “pug tilting head” videos on YouTube.  It’s late on a Sunday night and all I can think of is the little guy snoring next to me, this is all I got today.  Enjoy!