Monday, February 23, 2015


No friends, this is not another post involving Frank & Bean eating pickles, though that is for sure adorable and blog worthy and was in fact featured here a year or two back. (click below to enjoy)...
No, in this case is it a mixture of two seemingly opposite words, pugs & fickle.
You see, every morning the pugs and I delight in the ritual of getting up, being let out (the pugs, not me), and being fed a delicious breakfast (again, the pugs... I eat much later while the pugs sit at my feet and look up rather pathetically as if they are starving). While they are eating I brew my coffee and frolic out to retrieve my paper. I then clamor back into bed to enjoy my coffee and the rarely uplifting news. As soon as their breakfast has been wolfed down, the pugs leap enthusiastically back on the bed and snuggle up to me, as close as possible, with much love swelling in their teeny little walnut sized hearts.... or so I believed.
Turns out, nope. They just want to be warm.
The sun poked it's nose out today and "poof," nooooooo more love for me.
Let's observe Frank's expression below when I dared to call his name and distract him from his sun worship...
Why Frank. How rude to stare at someone with such disdain. And Bean, are you glaring at me?

It's a good thing we live in Seattle so that I can continue to nurture my delusions of pug adoration...
The moment that the sun comes out it seems I am quite deserted!
Fickle little puggers.

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