how to get a pug to love you

I so enjoy looking at what people searched for to get to my blog. I've even written about it before.

While I was out in LA over the weekend visiting my sister and her husband, I obsessively checked my blog stats.

No, I didn't. I just looked in every now and again, in between all the amazing California-type things we did.

And by that I mean—I was wearing flip-flops in the winter! I had on capris at one point! I didn't wear a coat for several days in a row! I forgot sunglasses because I haven't seen the full sun in a coon's age {dang, you can take the girl out of Iowa, but you can't take the Iowa expressions out of the girl} and forgot that I would need them! I borrowed my sister's!

I realize that tells you nothing about what I actually did in LA, so if you'd really like to know, go ahead and ask. It involves the ocean, Hollywood, trying to find Carol Burnett, marveling at the traffic, and a pug.

Ah, yes, a pug. This brings me to my point today: someone got to my blog by googling "get my pug to love me."

On the off chance that this person returns to my blog—or someone else searches for this very precise and sad phrase—I thought I'd put together a little primer on how to get a pug to love you.

1. Realize that even the Internet can't help you.  Seriously, you're having trouble getting a pug, that most loving, adoring of creatures, to love you? Your problem may be bigger than Google can solve because pugs love everything, even cigarette butts they find on the ground on their daily walk.
2. Dress your pug like this, and she will love you. My pug does. It's because I make her look stylish, and yet I'm also concerned for her level of comfort when it's 20 below. This sweater lets her know that I love her, and her expression clearly says, "I love you. This is how you get a pug to love you."

Two funny stories related to that sweater.

One. On her morning walk the other day {all dressed up in this sweater}, Daisy started to bark ferociously at a commuter on his way to the train. Of course ferocious for a pug just translates to "Awwwww, look at her sad little face and buggy eyes!" The commuter said, "Ooh, feisty dog. I think she's angry about her sweater."

Two. It is bleak midwinter here in Chicagoland now, and the sidewalks have become sheets of ice. Walking is dangerous. Walking with a pug is dangerous. Walking with a pug while trying to drink coffee is also really dangerous. But watching a pug slide on the ice is hilarious. This morning, I just couldn't help it. Her legs were splaying, and she kept looking up at me like, "When did I become a cartoon? Isn't it right that only cartoon characters can run in place?"

I laughed. A lot.

I laughed so much that I stopped paying attention, and I slipped on the ice. Daisy ran up to me to lick my face, which means that she wasn't pug laughing at me but instead was pretending that she's a St. Bernard in the Alps. Lick the person until she gets up again!

Clearly, she's a nicer person than I am.

But the close-up I got of her—all dressed up in her stripey sweater—made me laugh even harder. Which made her lick my face more. Do not open your mouth to laugh while a pug is licking you.

So in conclusion, person who can't get their pug to love them: Buy a sweater. And laugh a lot but try to laugh with your mouth closed.