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I am a sometime proud parent to my 10 year old pug and step-mother to a 7 (or is it 8?! I’d be fucked if my partner read this) year old French bulldog. And some days, actually make that most days, I envy their lives. Is that so wrong? You might not think so once I tell you how they spend their days.

Mostly, they sleep. They sleep while we sleep. They sleep while we watch TV, usually wedged in between us, on the back of the couch or, to make a point, in their bed across the room. They sleep while I study or work from home. They sleep when we’re not there (although this hasn’t been 100% confirmed). As someone that can nap at the drop of a hat and fall asleep pretty much anywhere, this is a very enviable state of affairs. I have often considered napping under my desk at work but societal norms have prevented me from achieving my goal.

They get fed. Granted, it’s only one meal a day and it consists of raw meat and dry kibble but they LOVE it. The pug has a little song and dance that he does for it every morning. He hits some notes I would’ve never thought possible for a dog with no snout. As soon as he sees we’re awake, he starts with his none-too-subtle breakfast manoeuvrings, trying to hustle us into the kitchen to prepare his morning feast. And, to top it off, they can never get fat because their diet is totally controlled by someone else. They don’t have access to a significant enough amount of food to affect their weight (treats from strangers and weak-willed family members included). This is perhaps the thing I most envy.

Their exercise is mandatory and predetermined. We walk them two days a week and, on weekends, we go to the dog park or the beach, if it’s warm enough. Three glorious days a week, they go with their dog walker where they run, sniff and frolic to their heart’s content. On these days, they know he’s coming and they both wait by the door for his arrival. Although the pug usually sits on the couch at the end closest to the door, he won’t sacrifice comfort for anyone. The important thing to note here is that the dog walker doesn’t usually come until late morning or mid-afternoon, so it’s not a short wait. They come home from that and… you guessed it, they sleep. 

Every day is just a day to them. They wake up, they get fed, three days a week they go on awesome walks and the rest are just boring walks with the usual humans, they sleep on the couch until the humans come home and then they continue to sleep on the couch but this time nestled in as closely to the humans as possible (for maximum fart effect, yep, that’s the Frenchie), and then they follow the humans to bed (they have their own doggie beds next to ours).

I sit in bed looking at these snoring, smelly beasts in their doggie bed on the floor and I wonder, ‘who wouldn’t want their life?’. They have it pretty sweet, even if the pug thinks he’s hard done by and is master of pulling his ‘why are you doing this to me?’ face. He’s wrong (but don’t tell him I said that, he’d probably go sleep on the couch for spite).

Fact #4: My pug’s name is Oscar and we call him pirate pug because he has a bung leg (from breaking his wrist falling off a bed as a puppy) and only one eye (from an unfortunate fight with his brother). Ami is the Frenchie. He’s mostly normal, at least to look at (for a Frenchie, at least).