Friday, January 26, 2007

Excuse me, that was my HEAD.

A long time ago I had a friend whose mother could not resist a stray dog. Now mind you, some of these dogs weren't even strays, but maybe wandered from their yard a moment too long, but that is a story for another day. We were there one day when she walked in, and plopped a fawn pug puppy down on one of us and disappeared into the basement (where she spent almost all her time, when she wasn't working or 'rescuing' dogs).




We didn't know that was what it was at the time, but that puppy was absolutely hilarious. It had no concept of personal space, and thought nothing about taking a shortcut across your face to get to a different lap. And it used to carry around a bottle cap all the time. They only had it a few days (the owners eventually figured out who had their dog) but it made quite an impression on me. It was probably an underlying layer of why I wanted to get Ruby.

I have met many more pugs since then, and I think this disregard for life or limb when it comes to their own comfort or wiles seems to be an inbred traight. If Ruby wants something over THERE and you (or your body parts) are in the way, she just tromps right across like a mountain goat. She thinks nothing of walking across the coffee table like EVERYBODY walks on coffee tables and I can not tell you the blinding pain of having a dog built like a cinder block with tiny feet step on your hair while you are laying down. You can't even reach her to get her off, and if you screech she gets scared and SITS DOWN. Still pinning you by your hair, and more likely than not that pug butt gets planted right on your head. Even more horrifying is when she finally understands and moves away, but climbs ACROSS your face. Nothing like the warm underbelly of a pug sliding across your face in the wee hours of the morning, after the rude awakending of having your hair torn out.

This morning, Ruby got all huffy because DH had the hallway light on, and tried to turn away from it. She planted her paw right in the middle of my FOREHEAD to turn herself. Grinding those little toes right into me as she did it. MY FOREHEAD. Is nothing sacred at ALL, I asked her? She answered by deftly sticking her tongue up my nose. While I recoiled she took the chance to give me a good snotting then 'twirled' on my pillow. "Twirling" is how Ruby scratches the butt that she cannot reach. On my pillow. The rudeness of it all. Dh gave me a bewildered look, as I stomped downstairs half asleep, in the dim grey light of TOO EARLY to toss my pillow into the washing machine. Sure, a normal person would settle for washing just the pillow case. But this was a stinky fish-oil pug butt, and I am not that normal.

Looking at it now, a few hours later, I find it funny. In fact, when I went back to proof read I almost made MYSELF spit coffee. But it isn't so funny that I forgive her totally yet.

Aw, wh0 could be mad at that face?


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