A Man and his Pug: Volume 1

I consider myself to be quite a manly man and maybe some of you who know me personally might think the same. I shave my head, I listen to heavy metal, I have been known to lift my fair share of large and bulky items and my beard is bloody epic right now! And I have a dog. Not a Bull Terrier, or a German Shepherd or a bloody big Great Dane. I have a Pug; yes a face snorting, ever snoozing, no nose having Pug. I am not ashamed to admit that I love that furry little bastard.

So I think it is time that I started to share some of my experiences with the Pug we call Oghren, named for a beloved fictional Dwarf character from a popular fantasy RPG series. That is his name but we, my fiance and I, call him Pog. Which is short for Poghren, because he is a Pug called Oghren……so Pog naturally!

This chronicle of the Pog is all about his love for his toys, specifically those resembling animals of some kind. This Pug has no interest in chasing after balls or playing tug of war with a rope. No, he likes to torture and abuse stuffed penguins, cows, frogs and so forth until they are naught but broken and torn apart versions of their former selves. He likes to flip, maul, scratch, twist, and drag these things all about our home and when he is done, what do you think he does? Does he allow them brief moments of respite to collect their fractured pieces from the ground? No, he gets drowsy and falls asleep with them firmly embedded in his mouth whilst ‘smushing’ (as the Mrs likes to call it) them back and forth with his paws. It is an odd behaviour, and it is difficult to understand quite exactly what he gets from the experience. I once postulated that it might be a resonance with some dormant, primal element of his mind. It might be because he is an odd little weirdo! Who knows?

My fiance always says that our dog doesn’t know how to dog properly, and I would completely agree. But I would not have him any other way. He has gone through many a stuffed animal in his time and I suspect there will be many more victims in the future. For now he is content to twist and contort his giraffe, I think it gives him an odd sense of purpose and satisfaction. Oh to know the mind of a hound, what a disturbing prospect that might be. So bid farewell to Pinpo the Penguin, Froggy the Frog, first cow toy who I don’t think we ever bothered to name and the plethora of toys to fall victim to this most lovable of mass murderers we call Pog.

Until next time, adore your hounds and take care.

Forged From Reverie.


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