Flashback Friday ~ Storytime Edition

Brigitte the Narc

Hello there people. Today I would like to share a story that dates back to when Sluggo was just a wee pug, and I was teaching him a thing or two about how to party.

What?! You may say. I thought Brigitte was the party girl in the pack.

Well folks, while the old broad may be living it up in her golden years, but she has, and always will be, at her core...a goody two shoes, a tattle tale if you will.

Let me offer up an example.

If Sluggo has gone ahead and squirted a message somewhere in the house. As soon as a parent is available, Brigitte runs over to it and starts sniffing. Exposing the indiscretion, and gaining vast amounts of praise from the humans.

I won't lie, Brigitte's ability to communicate effectively to the parents has often benefited the rest of us pugs.

Such as when she utilizes her temperature/weather sensor to detect the immediate moment when optimal weather conditions exist for a walk.

She will then demand that we all get one pronto.

Or, at dinnertime, when she will promptly pick up a lambie and start whipping it around mercilessly until the kibble is dispensed.

But, there are times when a girl needs to know when to zip it. To keep her mug shut!

This next story was one of those times.



As I said, this story dates back a few years. We were still living in our old house. It was a Friday night and Mom and Dad had gone out for the night.

I happened upon a bottle of Cosequin, and managed to open the cap.

I ran over to the couch, ordered up some R rated movies, called for pizza and started the party.

From that point forward, things get a little fuzzy. I remember Brigitte squalking about being in big trouble, and we better not do anything bad, but after that, I'm not so sure what happened.

I can tell you though, that I have heard Mom and Dad retell the story of the night they came home and found Brigitte  waiting for them at the front door. They say she started woo,woo,wooing and ground pounding, then ran over into the livingroom urgently gesturing towards Sluggo and I.

They have no actual physical evidence, but Mom recalls coming into a scene looking something like this...

I call it revisionist history. There was no Jack Daniels, only Hennesey.

I do remember hearing Mom and Dad as they woke us out of our slumber saying something like...

"You know you are getting old when you come home on a Friday night to find that your pugs have partied harder than you have." *

* Addendum: Fear not, the pugs were all OK, but for the most part, this story is based on truth. We got home to Brigitte acting all Lassie and came upon a scene of Wilma and Sluggo with white powder all over their mugs and the couch. After calling poison control and their vet, and determining they did not actually ingest all that much of the "drug" they were all just fine. For a moment though, we knew what it must be like for parents of teenagers!