I've gotten an editorial on my presence in the Pug House of Horror. One of the pugs, I'm not sure which, piddled on the bed I slept in last night. Up goes the gate to keep them out of the bedroom. Buddy, the older pug, is looking guilty, which means it was probably Buster, the younger, who doesn't care at all what happens. I expect Buddy to start howling tonight. After all, his parents left him the care of his cruel sister-in-law who doesn't understand what a sweet dog he really is.
I've also been hit by the other danger of staying at the Pug House of Horror: The grandparents. The real reason I'm staying here is to be around for Eric's grandparents, so they won't be all alone with a couple of wild pugs. But Grandma has the overwhelming urge to feed grandchildren, and I've already had some chocolate cake, chocolate cookies, and pumpkin pie. I suspect the onslaught has just started. There's only so many times you can politely say no to someone who is slightly hard of hearing and determined to fatten you up.
Buster tried very hard to get under the fence, too. Out into the traffic on the busy street right outside. I was warned to watch Buster, and now I'm going to have to examine the spot he tried to escape through to make sure he can't fit. Little pugs wandering through traffic is BAD.
The piddle incident brings to mind a saying I heard a long time ago. "Eat a frog first thing in the morning, and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day." Let's hope this was the frog and I won't have to deal with anything worse.
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