The canine princess tells all
Just so you guys know, it’s pretty much me who writes this column.
There is a reason I am the Princess’ pug. See, there is a reason for everything.
It’s not common knowledge, I know, but in order to become a pug you must have lived many previous lives and achieved a certain amount of wisdom. That’s why we have “east-west eyes.” Our eyeballs not only bug out of our flat little faces, they also tend to drift outward, like the opposite of being cross-eyed. Even though it might not look like it at first glance (so to speak), this is a telltale sign of superior intelligence.
Yeah, yeah, I know: We’ve been dubbed the clowns of the dog world. Silly humans. Don’t you realize that there’s a reason we insist on sitting on your laps instead of on the ground? Why we worm our way into your foam-core mattress beds and beneath your goose-down duvet, snuggling up under your 500-thread-count sheets where we give your men a run for their money in the snoring department, cutting rugs like it’s going out of style? And you think we’re the dumb ones?
So I sit in my mom’s lap at her desk, my paws perched just a few inches from the keys, my buggy, brown eyes reading between the lines. Of course I don’t have to actually type. I dispense my wisdom in more subtle ways. I don’t tell her what to write, I just make sure she writes right.
The fact that I am so much smarter than you is only one of the reasons I don’t follow your commands. First of all, I don’t appreciate that tone. If someone told you, “Sit!” or “Come!” would you respond to that patronizing crap? No! You’d probably say, “Ask me nicely,” or “What’s the magic word?”
So rather than do what you say, I do that thing that only pugs do and tilt my head from side to side and act like I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s meant to seem quizzical, like, “Whatever do you mean by ‘sit?’” But in reality it’s a marketing ploy, a publicity stunt, a pyramid scheme. No one knows better than a pug that the whole head-tilting trick is just about the cutest, most irresistible thing a dog can do, and yet we are the only breed that has truly mastered it. It’s so cute, in fact, that you less-evolved humans forget what it is you want us to do in the first place. Instead, you coo at us and scoop us into your arms and onto your laps where we belong, away from the dirt and grime on your dusty floor.
We also have everyone fooled into thinking we are small dogs. But if you were a great spirit, would you inhabit something obvious like a fox, a mountaintop or a guy with a long beard dressed in a cloak? No! Because when you are a spiritual being who walks the earth, you want to keep things on the down low. So it’s best to choose a physical body that’s not so blatantly obvious. So we’re fat, goofy looking and low to the ground. But we don’t have those giant, soulful eyes for nothing. We see all.
I may grunt and snort and snore because my face is so flat, and it’s true that I don’t have the best sense of smell, but that’s only because I don’t need it. My senses are much more heightened than that. I know where the treat drawer is located without even looking, and I mean that in a proverbial sense.
I know my mom is worried I might get eaten by a coyote or a mountain lion or that I might get hit by a car because I’m only 10 inches tall, but what she doesn’t realize or even understand is there is no life and there is no death, just an eternal cycle for the soul to gain the knowledge necessary to reach enlightenment. She’s a little ignorant, but I don’t hold it against her. What she doesn’t realize is that she’s on the end of my leash, not the other way around.
When I burrow under the covers and sleep nestled into her warm chest, my face next to hers, she thinks of me as a baby. Yes, I know what she’s been through with all that fertility crap. Sure, those doctors might have figured out how to incubate test-tube babies, but they don’t know a damn thing about how to nurture the soul. Sorry to go off on a tangent, but it’s the one thing really pisses me off. So yeah, I refer to her as “Mom” and she thinks of me as a baby, but clearly, I’m the one who’s taking care of her.
So I might charge at you barking hysterically the first time we meet, even though I’m technically totally defenseless. I might even bark at reflections in the window, the wind and the goats across the street, but it’s not because I’m stupid, but because I know there’s more to the physical world than meets the eye.
I know some people might even say I’m ugly, but what they don’t realize is that true beauty often lies beneath the surface, in the last place you think to look for it. I might have a lisp and I might have a tongue that sticks out, but it’s because I’m making that face at you, stupid.
And just so you know, your spellcheck has it all wrong; the proper way to spell God is P-U-G.
The Princess has finally, lost her mind completely and will be back for her regularly scheduled column next Thursday. Email your love to email@example.com.