Midnight, my foster pug, and Lulu, my regular pug, in the baby swings at the park. Rivals pugs in life jackets as the cutest thing ever.

We’re dog sitting for our friend Kyle’s pug (and Lulu’s littermate) Hugo while Kyle is off in LA being the next big thing.  We promised to take lots of photos. The first is from yesterday, their first day together. This picture perfectly captures what they were doing 90% of the time. The last four are from tonight, when they’ve finally chilled enough to snuggle up.

Lulu doing her best pinup/Yoda impression.

Lulu loves her new wading pool. I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s a badass for having a water dish that’s 4’ in circumference.

The upside of having a pug: It forces you to be more social.

The downside of having a pug: It forces you to be more social*

Though I tend to love (most) people I do not possess impressive people skills. I’m a more adept at social interaction than I used to be, which is what a professional background of journalism and retail will get you. But if I’m not feeling up to it I still avoid small talk, introductions, and spontaneous conversations with strangers. 

That part of my life is over, y’all. Last week I wandered into the backyard with Lulu (wearing yoga pants covered in dog hair and a torn tank top with no bra, naturally) and ended up conversing with a neighbor walking her pit bull puppy, a middle-schooler riding her bike around the block, and a Wichita police officer. We chatted about puppies, cones, the K-State Veterinary Medical Center, the neighborhood, and who knows what else. 

Last night we ran into a pug owner in Old Town Square and chatted for 20 minutes about the veterinary office we both take our dogs to (more on that later). 

In between I’ve had approximately three hundred conversations about Lulu. And I can see how semi-forced, repeated personal interaction makes one slightly less socially stunted in the future. (So this dovetails with “practice makes perfect,” one of many cliches I’ve recently discovered are actually true, or at least true-ish). 

Still, sometimes I’d rather be silent and anonymous.

*If your pug is wearing a cone on her head, multiply this phenomenon by 10,000. 

[I took Lulu out in the middle of writing this. We ended up in the middle of a swarm of neighborhood kids.]