The Cottage Smallholder

The brothers pug

Seraphina collected the brothers pug yesterday. She arrived laden with vodka and tobacco – to feed my naughty vices. She had been to stay with my big brother in New Zealand. She’d had a fabulous time – he has a happy and large extended family. Through my brother, I’m an aunt and a great aunt too!

The pugs waited by the front door on their first day – expecting Seraphina to return. Then they gradually got into the cottage routine. Inca our youngest Min Pin became Goody Two Shoes, pointing out when the pugs were sunning themselves on the borders and sleeping on the sofa at night.

The Min Pins had tired of the pugs over the last few days. I reckon that the reason is clear. Finally the black one, decided that enough was enough when Dr Q stalked Hitler like into his capacious basket. Smudge actually snapped at him!

Dr Q backpedalled with the alacrity of a circus acrobat into his own bed. And then stayed there in a Min Pin huff for the entire afternoon (don’t touch me or try any solace please – I’m happily huffy).
“He’s an overthrown dictator.” Danny remarked.
Dr Quito’s expression said it all. He was furious.

Even easy going pugs have their limits. I was pleased as we want the pugs to come and stay again on a more even footing. They were a delight once they settled down – gentle beings that just want lots and lots of affection, food and yet more love.

The chickens eventually got used to the goggle eyed brothers snuffling past their run. If I saw a pug the same size as me I think that I’d run away and hide too.

After the pugs had left in a whirl of extendable dog leads that left me anchored in the drive at one point, the house was spookily quiet. I discovered that the Min Pins had teamed up and were examining the garden inch by inch – checking that the entire garden was a pug free zone. CSI Miami has nothing on this.

This micro examination used to happen with me when I was in my early 30’s and seriously dating. If a prospective ‘husband’ came to stay my beautiful cat Faroe would spend an hour or so examining every inch of my bed when the boyfriend had left. Under the pillows, duvet and over the same. When he was certain that no teeny tiny boyfriend remained he relaxed and curled up to sleep.

I reckon that dogs and cats cannot register size when it comes to memory.

So having examined the garden carefully, my Min Pin detectives fell somnolent on the sofa and the soundtrack was the gentlest of snores.