You know that whole saying, my pets are my kids? I used to high five that statement. I lived it. To the point that I might have been a little pathetic to outside eyes. Then I had kids and thought, NO WAY DUDE, that saying is so wrong. Kids are kids and pets are just things you need to feed for 12 or 15 years until they check out and then you replace them if the kids whine long enough. Now? The kids are my kids and my dogs are my dogs but they are all a part of my family. It took a some time but I found that I just had to reword it a little.
They were born on May 5th 2007 or, as we have come to call it, Cinco De Pug-o. Carl came to live with us first, when he was just a wee little roll of sharp little needle teeth and total possibilities. He went everywhere with us, crapped in a million places he shouldn't have and pretty much failed puppy kindergarten. We ended up with his midget sister Ruby four or five months later and, due to her insane peer pressure, Carl turned into a RULES BLOW, PEEPS kind of dog. Multiply that attitude by two and whoa, crazy. Many vet bills (including a nose job), pictures, Pug-o-Weens, fart and burps and wheezes later, our Frito smelling pug gang officially became pieces of our family.
Then I popped out a kid.
And wow, how Carl and Ruby started to hate their lives. It was now harder to get in a moment of love with yours truly with a screaming baby human being involved and all. The trips to the dog parks dried up, leading to a shortage of treats and a GASP(!) diet or two. Their day was now sleep time, breakfast time, nap time, poop time, sniff some grass time, nap time, nap time, dinner time, nap time, sleep time. Hot weather turned into cold weather turned into perfect pug weather and they only knew this because they looked out the windows. The kid grew up, the tail pulling increased, the pugs were treated like mini horses. And boy, did I feel like an asshole.
Oh, then there was another kid.
But, because they are such awesome dogs, they have done their best and have shown me that they really are big parts of our family. Ruby may give Eli a little motherly nip/warning when he really has gone past the line and back again, but she still keeps his pillow warm and gives him (and Sam) endless kisses. Carl has put up with the most because he's so laid back but he has never once done more than move to a different part of the room (only to get man handled again.) Those dogs have put up with so much bullshit from us over the past couple of years and only get a random treat or belly rub in return but, they are still there at the end of the day, keeping our feet warm. Waiting eagerly on the other side of the bedroom door when the alarm goes off in the morning. And farting on our faces like it ain't no thang.
Because it's not. It's a small thing to endure for such an awesome amount of dog love and devotion in return.