Meet Stanley

Meet Stanley. He's about four pounds, eight weeks old, and the cutest damn pug puppy of all time. (Even though any pug owner reading this will likely think theirs is equally adorable. I get it.) The fact that I find him so cute is ironic, because I'm a self-professed cat lady and never really ever even wanted a dog. 20140223-101845.jpg

But then we babysat a friend's pug, and fell in love with its temperament and personality.

Then I decided to look at nearby breeders, you know, just for fun slash just in case. Then there happened to be a breeder an hour away with two little puppies left. The woman was super nice and knowledgeable, and she mentioned that her 77-year-old grandma also knits a blanket for each puppy to take to their new home.

SOLD. It was fate, you guys. So we went just to look.

(As we all very well know, nobody ever goes just to look at a puppy or kitten and comes home empty-handed. I actually would like to meet somebody who has been able to emotionally detach from the cuteness of a small animal needing a home and not take it home. Heartless!)

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Full disclosure: It was a Saturday and we had no plans, so I told Jared we were going on an adventure because I knew he'd say no to just looking since he is all practical and stuff. We drove back roads in the snow for over an hour, he consequently got super annoyed with my bubbliness about this mystery trip, we pull into their driveway and he's like JULIA as I dart out of the car. The chain link fence displayed a cardboard sign that said "Puppies 4 Sale," and a man in blue jeans with a long grey ponytail glanced at us while smoking his cig, shoveling his steps.

"You must be Ron," I said. "Sure am." He replied, still shoveling. "Y'all go on in."

Jared's expression: We just drove over an hour and now we're going inside a stranger's house in the middle of nowhere to look at some supposed puppies? Me: Duh. This is legit, I swear.

We step inside to a small lobby-like area, where we met Ron's wife and subsequently fell in love with little Stanley. He nuzzled and cuddled us, and his wrinkly face melted our hearts.

His name is Stanley because he has an old man face, and it's fun to call him Stan the Man.

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He likes chewing on everything, attacking shoelaces and rug corners, barking in excitement for his food, chasing leaves, snuggling his auntie Olivia, meeting other dogs, and sleeping. I read that puppies sleep an average of 18 hours a day, and it's totally true.

He does not like his harness, loud noises, not being allowed on the couch, the snow, his kennel after lunch and sleeping past 7 a.m.

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As a puppy parent, I've met about 20 new people in the apartment building--it's incredible how a dog breaks down social barrier and promotes friendly hallway conversation.

I'm excited for when he is potty trained. And for when the weather clears up so that we can go on more walks. I love his little snore and the fact that he wiggles his arms and legs when sleeping (must be dreaming about running) and the way he hops like a bunny when he is excited.

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And his FUR ROLLS. Ugh. So cute.

Most of all, I understand now why people own dogs. With a cat, you come home and the cat is like yo, I see you but I'm not interested in moving. A dog is like OMG MOM HI CAN WE PLAY CAN WE GO OUTSIDE I MISSED YOU SO MUCH.

It's awesome.

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P.S. Pugs really do sleep with their tongues hanging out. I didn't believe this was true until Stanley did it. It's so weird and creepy and hilarious.