just as I feared, not long after Mom and Dad pack their suitcases and leave me, brother Zach, the wonderful Jacki and the evil Kittyman arrive.
Kittyman heads straight for Mom’s white sofa.
Not so fast, pal! I claim my brother’s lap.
Kittyman is not the boss of this house!
I hate suitcases! When they come out something bad is gonna happen.
Last time the suitcases came out Mom & Dad left for ten years and Kittyman and Jacki came. I love Jacki, but it’s hard to get her undivided attention when Kittyman and Buddy are both here. Kittyman gets to sleep in the bed with Jacki and I have to sleep on the floor with You Know Stinky Old Who. No Fair!
I get Mr. Raccoon and watch…this isn’t gonna end well.
I like the Irish!
They live life according to their own rules. Who else would say ” a short dog is tall in his own doorway.”
Happy St. Patrick’s Day from a short dog.
I consider myself the Charlie Sheen
of dogdom, because I eat poop.
Hey! It’s an acquired taste.
Here’s my Torpedo of Truth for today.
“Winners win and Beggars beg.”
No, wait a minute…nothing wrong with begging.
Ok, “Winners win”. I don’t know what that means, but when Charlie says it on TV, Mom and Dad laugh.
I personally like his “Am I barfing? Am I barfing?” ‘cause in my case, yes, I probably am.
I’m dedicating my blog today to the memory of Charlie Sheen’s black pug, Betty, who died on Monday.
I heard him talk about Betty on TV the other night and it was the only time he really sounded human. If anyone ever needed a pug’s love right now, it’s Charlie Sheen.
Just when I’m starting to get everything in my new house under my control… one of my human brothers shows up with Kittyman.
I knew something was wrong when he strolled in, jumped up on the white sofa and Mom didn’t yell at him. Mom always yells at me when I jump onto the white sofa.
Then he wouldn’t let me sniff him.
He could jump into places I can’t jump…like the window. Then he just sat there with his tail wagging, pretending not to notice me.
Kittyman finally jumped into the chair with me and rolled over on his stomach to show me I could trust him.
Ok!
Then he grabbed me with all four legs and bit my head!
I’m out of there!
The rest of the day, I keep my distance.
Kittyman is evil.
Mom is a psycho.
When she woke up this morning, she grabbed my new toy, screamed “Where did you get this battery?” and took it away. I really liked that toy.
She got mad when I chewed up that yummy thing that hooks to the box she talks into all the time.
“How did you get my phone charger!” she screamed.
She shouldn’t leave her toys on the floor if she doesn’t want to share.
what shoe?
My new home is okay.
Well, except for Buddy. He’s a weird pug. He’s ugly. He stinks and he does nothing but sleep. His tongue hangs out of his mouth when he sleeps and he snores really, really loud (louder than Dad!)
When he is awake, he walks around like he doesn’t know where he is and bumps into walls. He doesn’t do any tricks or play with any toys. But he will let me snuggle with him, so I guess Buddy’s okay too.
could be worse.
Mom says we are celebrating President’s Day this weekend because it’s in between old dead President George Washington’s birthday and old dead President Abraham Lincoln’s birthday.
I don’t get that at all.
Then Mom reads me this quote by Abraham Lincoln.
“I care not much for a man’s religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it.”
Smart man, that old dead President Lincoln.
Happy President’s Day this weekend, everyone.
At my new house, Lady gives me a chance to mark my new front yard. This is my yard now!
But entering the house, my smell alert goes off. Another dog! And there he is; a big, ugly version of me. Lady, who I am ready to start calling Mom, picks me up and sits down next to him with me in her lap.
“The idiot is asleep this whole time. What kind of protector is that? “ I think.
“Buddy”, Mom says, “This is Dexter, a friend for you.”
“I don’t think so.” I’m sniffing, leaning closer to him. He’s ignoring me.
Mom and Dad are making oohing and aahing noises. This is good. They’re happy. I’m guessing I shouldn’t snarl. He has opened his eyes, but doesn’t look at me. What? He sniffs and struggles to his feet. What did Mom say at the vet? Oh yeah, 12 years old. Wow! That’s like…like…that’s really old in dog years! And he has bad breath and bad manners. He still hasn’t looked over here to acknowledge me.
Mom unleashes me and sits me down in front of Buddy. I give the rude old jerk a shove and he falls down. That’ll show him.
What!? They’re mad at me! What did I do? He’s the one with bad manners. I sniff his butt real quick, while they pick him up and comfort him. Old Buddy’s just not right. But he’s not like the evil big dogs at the last place either.
So okay, he was here first. He’s old. I get it. I snuggle up to Buddy and take a nap. The rest of the day, I do my best to be a really, really good pug.
Hello. My name is Dexter and some say I am a bad pug.
Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.
Dexter is actually my fourth name. I was born almost three years ago and when I was I was born, my name was “little boy.” After I was weaned, I was adopted by two nice men who named me “Howard”. I lived with them for two great people years before something sad happened and they gave me to another man. That man renamed me “Milan.” I lived with him and his two big, mean dogs for a very short time. Neither he, nor his evil dogs appreciated my leadership ability. Pretty soon, I was staying at the vet.
One day the vet’s assistant came in, hooked a leash to me and said, “Behave, you little rat. There are some nice people here who want to adopt you.”
I totally understand people-speak when I want to. That morning, I wanted to.
The vet’s assistant led me into the lobby, where ahead of us I could see a nice looking couple sitting on the bench. The lady was already smiling at me. “Sold”, I thought.
Mr. looks like a tough sale. I zero in on him. I run straight to Mr. and jump my front feet onto his knees. “Are you my new Daddy?” I wag.
He pets me and I lick his fingers.
The vet’s assistant asks if they are the couple asking about the pug.
“What!?” asks Mr. looking totally surprised.
Lady laughs and pets me too. She answers yes and begins explaining they have a blind, 12 year old pug and they’d like to get a companion for him. I don’t know what all that means, so I am not listening to that. I am wagging and licking Mr.
“I want you to be my new Daddy.” I wag, cocking my head just so. I sit. Sit is my one trick that makes people happy.
Mr. doesn’t look so sure.
Before I know it, Vet’s assistant has handed the leash to Lady and we are leaving the Vet! In the car, I sit on Lady’s lap and I hear awful name #3 for the last time. By the time we get to my new home, my name is Dexter.
Adventures of a Bad Pug 