I am picky. Especially when it comes to men, much to my friend’s dismay. They have to be tall, have all of their hair, not be too fat or too skinny; they have to have evolved communication skills and a quick wit. I know it sounds shallow but I like what I like and at least I’m honest about it. Said girlfriends keep trying to fix me up with strange men and I continue to humor them but deep down I feel like I could climb under the dinner table and take a nap. I am bored. I need excitement and passion, I crave it and give it but I would rather be alone than be with someone who is incapable of it. It occurred to me recently reflecting on my last relationship that maybe just maybe he wasn’t all that passionate as I made him out to be. I realize now that I was the one carrying all that desire and intrigue, he was just sort of there feeding off of it like a bloody leech. I was the one that made us hot, not him. But he was good to Pugsley so I convinced myself of a lot of things that just weren’t so. That’s what you do when you love someone or when you are in love with being in love.

Anyway, back to the dating travails and tribulations, of course above all, passion notwithstanding, they have to pass the Pug test. Pugsley is an excellent man barometer. Should they make it past the dinner/movie date and I’m intrigued enough to know more, I will invite them over to test the boy-dog interaction. You may be thinking that Pugsley is an elderly and somewhat docile chap. NOT TRUE. The fact is, he doesn’t know his age, he still thinks he’s a puppy and it’s caused problems. He is very hyper and crazy to the point where he watches animals on television and has actually dislocated his leg from body slamming the entertainment center. If you don’t believe a dog watches television, see for yourself. I guess Pugsley is full of passion too and he has trouble containing it. Funny how dogs mimic their owner’s personalities.

He gets especially exuberant when somebody new comes over. He is all over them like white on rice, sometimes I can’t even pull him off. Of course what they don't realize is the novelty wears off after about an hour when he's ready for a nap, but I like to watch them squirm. It’s fun to see if men have it in them to accept his overbearing tackles without pushing him away. They have to take the bad pug breath blowing in their face as some sort of an initiation into the world of me. Dogs will always be a part of my life. A man who has no patience for a dog, will have no patience for me.

I once asked a guy to leave my house because I didn’t like the way he treated Pugsley. We were sitting close together on the couch, had rented some indie flick, Clerks I think. Pugsley being the possessive territorial male that he is, exerted his position in the pack, jumped up and nudged his way in between us. The guy was very irritated; he lifted Pugsley up, and pushed him down onto the floor. I was horrified! I immediately stood up and said very calmly but firmly, “Don’t ever touch my dog” and I asked him to leave. I never took his calls again and he ended up stalking me for a couple weeks after that.

In a perfect world, it should go something like this:

Boy meets Dog
Dog tackles Boy
Boy tackles back playfully but gently
Dog kisses Boy
Boy takes kisses
Boy gets Girl

So I guess you could say I am picky. I love tuna fish but it has to be eaten at room temperature. I won't eat a tuna melt and can’t eat it right out of the fridge. When I shop, I make sure to buy the smallest possible cans, even if they cost more just to avoid having to refrigerate any leftovers because I don’t like my fish cold, except for sushi. I’m picky like that.