Calling Your Bluff

Despite what they try to tell you, pugs cannot live on cuddles and kibble alone, so a few days ago, I suited the girls up, clipped them into their seatbelts, and took them off on a little adventure.

Yes, Lola. Merry gets your bed when she’s in the car. It’s all part of being a good host. Park your puffy lips of disapproval somewhere else, please. Well. Okay. They’re kinda cute. You can keep them.

I picked a place that would have LOTS of smells, and would be relatively stick-free for the sensitive eyeballs of the snorfelling, not-always-so-careful-when-surrounded-by-sharp-objects pugs.

Look, Girls!

Nature!

Jeeze. Tough crowd.

Lola seemed to be more concerned about the warning signs of doom…

…but, really, there never was and never will be any chance of us even getting close to the edges of those cliffs.

Merry struck a pose, and was all provincially proud and beautiful with a field of white trilliums behind her…

All in all, although the walk was more of a meandering mosey than a hike, the girls were worn out from the adventures and the sniffing (and the pre-hike nail dremeling).

Despite the pugs trying to convince me that kibble and comfy beds are all they need, I know better.

There is nothing better than a happy, tired pug.

(And for those who will ask – Merryweather’s fashionable hoodie is by Ready to Wag London, and Lola Pug’s sweater was handmade with love by her late Grandma)