It is hard to find the words that properly explain the importance of my relationship with my dogs. They provide a kind of support that is otherwise not available in an activity, a person, or a place.
I have two little pugs - the puglets (as they are known in my household). And they mean the world to me. They are an extension of the family. Like any other dog mama, I call them my fur babies. They look nothing like me, walk on all fours, and have fur all over their bodies - but they are still my babies.
I got my little girl when she was just 8 weeks old. I spent the first two months of having her being woken up in the middle of the night (multiple times) just so that she could be held. After an 8-hour shift at work, I would race home, pick her up, put her in my lap as I sat in my favorite chair. My parents would then find me, completely knocked out with my head tilted back, mouth open, snoring like a howitzer, and my little one looking earnestly at them just waiting for someone to play with. I was exhausted. But even after all those sleepless nights, to have the bond that I have with her, I would do it all over again.
My little sergeant joined our pug family after a year of having my little girl. I’ve always liked having dogs in pairs, especially being a working woman and not having the luxury to be at home to play with them and keep them company. This way, I can leave for work in the morning and know that they will look out for one another, play and snuggle together, and keep each other company until I get home. He’s the guardian. Howls at the sirens as they drive by, barks at every menacing squirrel in the backyard, and patiently sits and waits as I put his collar on him in the morning as if I am honoring him with a new medal each day.
The relationship and bond I have with my puglets is just as important to me as the relationship I have with the people in my life. They have been by my side through the good times and the bad - they have seen me laugh and consoled me when I’ve cried. They show me the greatest unconditional love that a girl could ask for - even when I’ve only left the house for less than a minute to take the garbage out. They greet me every afternoon - both wagging their tails, one sniffing whatever bag I am carrying, the other bringing me a dog toy as they say “Welcome home!”
They warmed to my partner quickly and he to them (which I breathe a sigh of a relief about). My stoic father melts into a mush-pile when I bring them to visit. My mother babies them even worse than I do - which usually means that they come back being a little chubbier after having spent the weekend with my parents. They are my family. And when it is my time to say a final goodbye to them, I will likely cry just as hard as when I have said goodbye to the people who have been a part of my life. Because they are my best friends.
They are the best listeners when I need someone to talk to - even though they don’t have the best advice. They snuggle up next to me when I am reading to keep me company. They share their sneezes directly on my face and have no sense of personal space. And I would not have it any other way. They are forever there for me and I to them. Until they cross the rainbow bridge, they will be as much a part of my family as any human being. I will give them the best life I can give - the most toys, the best walkies, road trips and camping adventures, and treatsies for being the greatest puglets ever. They are crucial part of my tribe - woman’s best friends. And if you don’t want pug hair on you, then just don’t sit on the furniture.
