We had a pug. Her name was Sassy. **SPOILER ALERT** she’s dead.

I’m a dog person. But I’m also one of those close-minded people who can’t like one thing without hating another. It’s how I balance out the Universe. You’re welcome. So I love dogs and reaaaaaally dislike cats. I’ve explained my thoughts on cats before. But let me add—unless they taste really good or you own them to keep the rodent population in check, I see no reason for them to exist.

All that said, a pug is not technically a dog. It’s a pig-cat-dog hybrid. How do I know this? Examine the name: they took the first letter from PIG, the second letter from PUSSY, and the last letter from DOG. What more proof do you need? Also, look at it:


THERE’S NO WAY this animal is the descendent of a wolf. NO WAY.


It’s fickle like a cat. This beast will be treated as royalty and nothing less. The floor is for peasants and un-pugs. Bring your softest pillow, upon your finest sofa, by a window with an acceptable view of greenery—but no direct sunlight are you trying to blind your pug?!!—and then this majestic creature will consider maybe letting you pet it.

It’s adorable. Like a dog.

BUT here’s the worst part: it oozes. FROM. EVERY. POSSIBLE. HOLE. I dare you to wear shorts around one. Dare you. Let it approach your ankles. Go on. What’s the matter? I thought you liked pugs? When they see you in shorts, they trundle over on their abominable stubs of legs and immediately spray your ankles with a fine coating of mucous. A misting of snot. It’s how they say “Hi.”

Sometimes they’ll nudge you, rubbing their heads against you or your clothing. That’s not your pug playing or asking for attention. That’s your pug rubbing off its eye boogers. On you. It thinks of you as Kleenex. (BTW: Is this how I get paid? By mentioning Kleenex? Kleenex.)

Oh that’s nothing? OK. Let it sit in your lap, then. I hope you have white pants on. Never mind, you’ll see. Touch the pug. Pet the pug. Scritch it behind the ears like you would any dog. I said scritch it! Good, now put the pug on the floor. Look at your leg. See that spot? YOU MUSN’T TOUCH IT. But then you do touch it. And then you smell it. And then you know and you can never unknow. And all the while you’re connecting the dots, the scream building, the realization dawning, figuring out just exactly how that new spot on your pants lines up with where the pug was sitting, the pug is watching you from the floor. Studying you. It might look like it’s panting, but it’s not. It’s laughing.



At this point, a very keen reader will have noted that I’ve dedicated a lot of words to bashing pugs—but none bashing our pug, Sassy. That’s because we loved that little bitch. And after she died, there were many tears and regrets about how I could have been a better dad to Sassy. She came into our lives when Ian was just 3 months old and we were never able to give her the amount of attention she deserved. She was a wonderful part of our family but not long enough.



We miss you, girl.

Hope you got a nice spot by the window.



  1. You are hilarious. Sorry about your dog. And your pants.

  2. I lost two pet Animals Who Shall Not Be Named in the past year. It’s tough. I feel for you. <3

    • jeffandjill

      08/26/2014 at 2:55 pm

      Thanks! I just realized that I never put dates in this post. We lost Sassy a few years ago. So it’s not fresh pain. But I’m always thinking about her and we all have Sassy-sized holes in our hearts.

  3. My dad lost his pug just before Christmas. He was in the hospital and didn’t get to say goodbye . My dad is an 86 year old former Marine who has overcome so many illnesses and surgery in the past few years with a stoicism and grit and determination I have witnessed in very few people. He was devastated and cried like we’ve never known him to at any other time.
    Our family has had other dogs, too, and we lived them and mourned them when they passed. But the companionship between these two was something special.
    So though it is not fresh pain, I understand it is still pain and am sorry for your loss.
    But you are oh so right about the oozing. Snot and eye boogers and that which shall be unnamed. Wet wipes or that spray on dog shampoo is a must. But I love my two boys, a pug and some kind of pug/mutt mix that was a rescue from a very bad situation.

    • jeffandjill

      08/26/2014 at 3:41 pm

      That’s such a touching story. Thanks for posting it. The bonds between families and their dogs are no joke. And while I kid about pugs (and cats) I would love to have Sassy back for just one more day. A day all about her. A day that she never really got as we went through so many life changes in such a short time. We got Sassy when she was 6 and she died when she was 12. In those six years, we had two more babies and I began my career while we enjoyed many struggles. Sassy stuck by us through it all. Now that the dust has settled a little more, I would have loved to give her her moment.

  4. Have to admit, I’m a cat person. After reading your description of all those doggy fluids, even more so. Nonetheless, sorry for your loss.

    • jeffandjill

      08/26/2014 at 8:11 pm

      So many doggie fluids. And this is a safe place to admit your bestial proclivities. I might not like cats, but that doesn’t I don’t like cat people.

  5. Aww Sassy was adorable! What a funny, loving post. I love reading about people and their pets, cos while I love animals I haven’t had a pet for about 10 years.
    Living with animals is so brilliant. And so gross. If it isn’t pug boogers on your leg it’s cat hair in your mouth or bird shit in your hair or piss and crap and pukey fur balls on the floor…
    God I miss it.

    • jeffandjill

      08/27/2014 at 7:27 am

      Yeah they’re lovably gross. I think people love pets because it’s such a simple, honest love. No complications or manipulation a (unless it’s a cat) just a constant vibe of “so happy to see you!”

  6. Sassy was a great little dog. Very true about the oozing, but she certainly kept the floor clean of all dropped food stuff.

    • jeffandjill

      08/30/2014 at 10:46 pm

      She was. I forgot to mention that when she died, she chose to die on our old deck. So I’m not sure if some of the slips were her revenge for us not giving her all the attention she deserved.

Leave a Reply to Sarah (est. 1975) Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published.