Ready to race, mama.
Uh oh, it’s starting to get a little deep.
Whoa! My belly is getting wet.
It is much safer up here with daddy.
Oh, no. I see trouble coming. I better be a good girl.
I don’t think mommy loves me anymore. Maybe because I poo’ed under the table.
“Hey Boo Boo. I see a pic-a-nic basket.”
In a pack-it-in pack-it-out campground, even the dog has to do her “duty.”
Now I am in prison. Maybe because I chewed on mommy’s slippers.
Alas, what’s a Pug to do?
I think I will just lay here on the picnic table and sun myself.
Life is good.
**No Pugs were harmed in the creation of this blog post, only a little humiliated by having to carry her own poo.