Is That a Third Poop... Or Are You Just Happy to See Me?
So I hung out with my pal, Paulie the Pug, earlier. Yes, we took full advantage of this crisp autumnal weather and sunshine, walking briskly and sniffing leaves (Paulie did that-- not me) for about 35 minutes or so.
I was really happy to see him. I hadn't seen my Pug pal since last Tuesday, I think. I missed his greeting parties at the door. No one is ever as excited to see me as Paulie. He always runs to me, wide-eyed, slamming into my calves and panting and squealing like a puppy. Then he laps my hands and spins 'round and 'round and 'round while doing something like a crouch. What I mean is his tummy gets really close to the floor without touching it and he looks like a rolling ball. I feel like royalty in his presence. I really do although, to be fair, if humans did what he does, I'd be highly disturbed. Only Paulie can get away with giving me this kind of attention, and I would only accept this kind of love from him.
I also admired Paulie's manners, today. He'll be three-years-old in January, so he's pretty young and still occasionally takes great pleasure in nipping at pant legs, especially if he knows that you're leaving the house. It's his way of telling us how much more fun he is than whatever is going on outside. But he does well in treating other dogs respectfully and waiting for me before going upstairs for a tiny treat after a walk. He also easily plops down and takes a breather when we're busy handling something and follows most commands.
For example, when we approached a corner earlier, I said:
"Paulie, wait. We need to wait so that we don't get run over by a car."
I was blunt, but he got that. Sometimes he stands like a little soldier until I give him the go-ahead. Other times, he takes a seat and waits until we're in the clear.
Paulie is really good about the few rules I expect him to abide by. They pertain to the preservation of his life, keeping him from, say, choking on a mysterious object from the ground he attempts to swallow or being released in the street after rolling on the pavement belly-up and accidentally detaching his harness from his leash. We don't live in Kansas. I am not Dorothy and he sure ain't Toto. Paulie is actually cuter than Toto. But the point is that he can't just roam around town freely when there are jackasses on the road. And he knows darn well why:
Many Hoboken drivers have a little trouble reading a simple word like "STOP". And so Paulie knows that we can't take chances like crossing the street whenever we feel like it like some of my fellow pedestrians do, hence proving that dogs are smarter than the majority of humans.
But there's more to it than that. Paulie must inwardly know that I care about him, that he is one of my best friends, because he exhibits a certain level of comfort around me which has placed the two of us in rather, um, interesting predicaments. Like the time I went into his small dog closet to refill his food jar. It's a really small space, but Paulie followed me into it. And as I was scooping and pouring kibbles into his jar, he let one of his stinkiest farts rip, smelling up the whole closet. I both laughed my head off and was grossed out at the same time!
And then there was this afternoon, when Paulie decided to take not one, not two, but three medium-sized poops within about fifteen minutes. By medium, I refer to 2 to 3 three-inch turds, one of which curved a little, plus that single inch-long finishing turd. This is a lot coming from a Pug. They weren't even questionable poops. He didn't have the runs or anything like that.
Paulie let out a normal, firm, brown trio of poops.
I surmised that he was backed up after eating too much turkey throughout the weekend or something, but his owner indicated otherwise.
She said, "Paulie's tummy bothered him on Sunday. But yesterday he pooped twice so... I don't know. He's a poop machine!"
"That... or he was just really happy to see me."
"Or both!"
PUG MUG!!!
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Yah, isn't he awesome?
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