About Pugs (and one pug in particular)


Photo by Sebastian Coman Travel on Pexels.com

I won’t lie. This is my favorite breed of dog.

I know that getting a dog from the rescue or pound is the most humane thing to do (and I fully encourage it) but finding a pug puppy that way is very difficult. We found our dog Penelope (long passed by this point at age 13) at the local state fairgrounds where breeders would bring dogs to sell (they’ve since quit that practice due to do impulse buying and other reasons).

Nellie was about 12 weeks old when we got her and was small even for a pug. Maybe she was the runt. I don’t know. But she started at 5 lbs. and probably never got higher than 18 lbs. She wasn’t your typical pug. Very low energy – lethargic even – adverse to walks, exercise, inclement weather or too hot or too cold for her princess-like sensitivity. Although Nellie adored people in every way, she was never an actual “dog’s dog.” She didn’t care for other dogs. Not that she would be mean to them (she didn’t have a mean bone in her body) but she would ignore them. We took her to a pug meetup at a local park a few times where there would be maybe 20+ pugs romping and roaming. Not Nellie. She’d sit by the gate, staring longingly at the exit that she knew led to the car and eventually back home.




Nellie circa 2002

So yeah, she was a lazy dog, but if you just wanted a lap companion and friend, you couldn’t really ask for more. She slept in a bed every day of her life, and if anything, I wish we’d taken more pictures of her. There’s hardly any of the earliest days of her life.

I’d get a pug again, for sure. Black or faun I haven’t decided yet. In fact, the choice might be so hard that my only alternative is to get a color of each and deal with the inevitable fallout.

And fur.