Pugs are a breed of lovers. They are gentle, kind and ready to take a nap at a moment’s notice. You will not find them running for hours in a dog park or on the bike path. They are not anatomically or emotionally built for it.
Yesterday morning I was walking Izzy in our neighborhood. It was warm and muggy and the walks in this type of weather need to be short for pugs. None-the-less, I burned 545 calories in spin, Izzy was hitting her stride and we were feeling pretty good about ourselves in general.
Suddenly, she stops, sits and is looking towards the corner. I look up to see a very fit, slim woman running at a good clip with a yellow lab/golden retriever. They are moving. No one is sweating or breathing heavy. Just a comfortable synced trot.
I look at Izzy who is just staring at this pair of runners. What is she thinking?
“Can I catch them? Should I catch them or at least let them know I am here, you know, let out a woof?”
Or maybe she is thinking, “Wow, they are really running fast.”
The lab, however, did not appear to give Izzy a second thought. That pair was not fazed by my Wednesday morning spinner’s physique nor Izzy’s sassy red harness as she moved at the pace of a slight trot. I received a nod and a smile from the woman however I am unsure of the communication that transpired on the canine level.
Izzy literally looked to me for some sort of validation or communication. (She is deaf by the way) She then returned to her thoughts.
“It’s time for breakfast” and without another glance, she was off in the direction of home.
Izzy did not judge that dog, nor did she allow the dog to judge her. She is content and happy in her life, who wouldn’t be? I know this sounds somewhat over analyzing but it really did dawn on me that she is totally Ok with her Pug Life.
Why can’t we all be ok with the life we have? Be a Pug.
Izzy has a significant issue with gas, if you know what I mean. She walks tall and proud with a full orchestra of sound coming from that little butt. She sneezes all over my dashboard, snores like a 185-pound old man and eats with the gusto of a death row prisoner with his last meal. But did that dog running by with the wind in her fur and the stride of a greyhound know that? Nope. She may have seen a slightly old little pug, sitting in the grass but I know better.
Things are not always as they appear.
So my thoughts turned back to the day at hand and I’m thinking, I just took spin and I am off at 9am to Zumba, so I am totally going to make those brownies with the two sticks of butter and lick that spatula. And I did.
So, bring it on neighborhood runners and gazelles. Izzy and I are at it too and if you want a good chuckle, come by my house around 6:45 am. No matter what ails you, I promise we can make you smile!