Social network for pugs and their people.
As some of you know, today I had to leave work early to pick up my little girl from school. She was complaining of a headache and was running a fever, so I ended up staying home to care for her. Mr. Foo was estatic.
I had to log in from home to my work’s system to continue working. This was definitely not in Mr. Foo’s plans. He assumed that mom was home to cater to his every whim and need. I gave Allison some medicine for the fever, settled her in on the couch where I could check on her while I worked, and went about opening screens and files. All of sudden something zinged past my legs, brushing them with the sound of rustling paper. I looked up to see the back end of Mr. Foo ducking under the dining room table. As I rose from my chair to see what he had, he popped his head out from under the legs of one of the chair, mail order catalog in mouth. The instant he saw me he assumed the invitation to play posture, butt in the air, front of body in lay down position. He started juggling his body weight left, then right, enticing me into going for him. “Foo! Drop it!” I ordered. I might as well been talking to the wall. The catalog stayed put. I moved toward him, “Drop it I said.” Foo backed up a bit under the chair, catalog still clenched between his teeth. Stealthily I reached for the catalog with my left hand while trying to divert his attention with my right, but Foo, ever vigilant for attack escaped by rushing me headlong, shooting out from under the table at a dead run.
I love the way pugs run, or at least the way Mr. Foo runs. The faster he goes, the flatter his body becomes and seems to hug the ground. The legs seem to stick out perpendicular to the sides of his torso and move more like oars than legs, all four rowing in unison. But by far, the funniest thing is the way he tucks his little butt down and in as he goes. It is truly comical.
I spun around and tried to corral the little thief by backing him up to the baby gate separating the living room from the bedrooms. I almost had him until he zigged and I zagged. The chase was on! Round and round he raced through the living room, with the occasional figure eight thrown in for good measure. Then by a total stroke of luck, the catalog grazed the leg support on my computer chair during one of his passes and flew out of his mouth. Like a possessed crazy woman, I dove for it, nearly beaning my head in the process. Meanwhile, quite nearby, Allison dozed deeply.
After scolding Foo properly, I went back to my files and screens and quickly became emersed. Foo sat by the pellet stove and pouted, but not for long. Two more bouts of chase ensued, each only ending because the pug lost his grip on the magazine or notebook paper, or whatever it was, not because of any clever maneuvers on my part. Foo became bored with his game of keep away and abandoned the paper items. Now he had something a little more devious in mind.
The room had become quiet again......too quiet. I heard a small noise behind me and I turned around to see Foo up on the couch, leaning across the arm towards the end table's top shelf. There my husband, after the millionth time of asking him not to, had left a nail file and a pair of tweezers. Foo was going for the closest object, the tweezers. My heart froze in my chest and my throat started to constrict with panic. I managed out a rather strangled, "Foo, NO!", which was enough to startle him back on to the seat of the couch. However, when he pulled back, the tweezers moved and slid on to the floor under the arm of the couch and on to the carpet. Again, as if I was completely out of my mind, I lunged toward the couch arm. Crawling under, I was in the process of retrieving the tweezers when I felt toe nails....working through my hair....on my scalp....as if I had my own personal puggy scalp masseuse. All I could think is, "What are you doing you goofy dog?!" I pulled my head out from under the arm and sat up laughing. Mr Foo leaned over and started kissing my forehead and licking my eyebrows. Goofy dog!