PUG LIFE is the column from Mandurah Mail journalist Amy Martin. Amy is a pug-obsessed music lover who sings an annoying amount and spends too much time looking at Pinterest.
When asked about her achievements she included memorising all the words to Disney’s Frozen, knowing the exact shade of green which is known as Tiffany Blue and having a laugh which people think is hilarious – all things which are quite useless in the real world.
SOME people may call me overprotective of my dog.
I don’t know whether it’s because before I got Minnie I only ever had cats, or maybe being on pug alert 24/7 just comes with the territory of having man’s best friend.
Either way, I definitely spend more time making sure she’s OK than I do myself.
All the vets at the local clinic know both of us by name; not because she’s sick all the time but simply because I’m worried about every tiny thing.
I will head to the vet, spend at least 15 minutes in the waiting room just to hear, “she’s fine” and then leave the clinic one expensive bill and five minutes later.
It will always be something small like her not lifting her feet high enough going up stairs or eating too much grass (there’s a reason why she has earned the nickname Minnie Moo).
To a dog, their family are their whole life so it seems only fitting that I should make sure that life is as long as possible.
In fact I have it in my head that she will live just as long as me, although since I wouldn’t mind getting a letter from the monarchy on my 100th birthday, she is going to be one old pug.
And whenever something goes bump in the night, I will always head down to where Minnie sleeps just to make sure someone hasn't broken in to steal her.
I guess I can blame my dad for that irrational fear.
The day we picked Minnie up, he decided it was a good idea to remind me that pure breeds often get stolen to be sold or fight against other dogs.
But it turns out he wasn't so far off the mark.
You may have heard about a family’s 15-year-old dog in the news recently.
While the family was out, the home was burgled and Sheber’s two back legs were broken, resulting in her having to be put down.
It’s an act which is unfathomable to me and is hard even to write down that something like that happened.
I may be called irrational and over-protective of Minnie but I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.
I’m not saying she’s likely to be put to the same fate as Sheber, but one day my rushed trip to the local vet may be exactly the thing that saves her.
What do you think? How far out of your way will you go to make sure your pet is OK? Post your comments below.
