My name is Lady Ellen Smith but everyone calls me Pug. Let me tell you my story. I turned twelve weeks old today. Next to my mother I’m trying to get milk. She is covered by a heap of pet fur and dust from my siblings. Her smell makes me feel safe and I snuggle closer to her touch. I’m trying but there is not enough milk. Lately, I sleep a lot and am growing quickly. My family lives in a big pen full of blankets and fuzzy toys and noone ever sits still. When I woke up, my sister was licking my face trying to get my attention. She and I smelled something sweet cooking in the kitchen and we want to see it. We try to peer over the pen by folding up a blanket into several layers and standing with our hind legs. We fall a few times and giggle.
When food bowls arrive, I cant see. The bigger puppies block me. I get smushed but enjoy the smell, waiting my turn. Recently, two of my brothers left for a new family to play with, so my turn is faster now. While eating, I imagine running through green fields and mud puddles. It’s my time for dreaming.
My mother and dad, grandma and grandpa, and my two Aunties watch our food party every day. They laugh and say funny things. My Auntie says we are learning and getting stronger. She said that a family was “written in the stars” for each of us puppies according to “The Plan,” and that includes me. The plan was “as it is meant to be.” Some of my siblings want to rush the plan. My brothers practically jump out of the pen to get attention from visitors. Being the small one, I had not been picked up yet by visitors. I knew that would change.
After breakfast I am laying with my head propped up on my paws, relaxed. And soon we hear a knock at the door. A family of three enters the house with a boy about twelve years old and bushy looking hair. The boy is wide eyed, looking around. The mother is talking fast about my other family members casually watching. “So many Pugs!”, she screeches. I want a better look.
The boys sandy brown hair hangs in his eyes. I noticed his fingers twirling the long pieces by his ears. The hair is making curls like my tail. My sister pushes me, but I focus on the eyes of the boy, hoping he’ll notice me. And he does! I bounce on my back paws and tilt my head to see his quirky grin.
“Aw, look how cute,” says the boy. He moves the hair from his eyes. He and his parents speak in quick whispers. Proudly, I dance a few twirls and shuffle my feet. The boy’s hands come into the pen toward me. I get to be petted! He closes his hands around both sides of my tummy and holds me close to his face, nose to nose. We have a moment of silence gazing at one another, and my front paws go slack. I feel calm. I sniff his hand and one ear stands up. “This is the one!”, the boy says. I look over at my siblings proudly.
We Are Always Blooming 