His owner chronicles her life here: http://bschmidt.tumblr.com/
And here:
http://twitter.com/B_Schmidt
Contact us:
theipug@gmail.com
The iPug is down for the count. ‘Night.
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Please look at all of the water on the floor. Tucker doesn’t drink; he swims and magically absorbs water. I guess I’d be the same if my nose was all up in my eyeballs’ business and my mouth pointed toward the sky. Squashed-face dogs FTW.
At leas he has his floaties on.
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Watch that last step, Tucker. It’s a doozy.
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I am convinced this is what my bedroom door looks like to Tucker. When we’re playing fetch and his toy lands near the door, he runs up, sniffs the toy, realizes where it is, then runs away. EVERY TIME. I have yet to figure out why.
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Turpugen somehow does not sound as appetizing as turducken. (Which also does not sound very appetizing.)
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Sorry dude, I can totally read your Poker Face.
And I guess me taking pictures of him all the time would make me his Paparazzi, wouldn’t it?
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In Soviet Russia, bed sleep on YOU!
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Today Tucker had his first bath ever. There was a lot of HATE and DO NOT WANT involved.
Look, he’s shining he’s so clean. But it wasn’t fun. In the end, everyone was wet, flea-and-tick-free and smelled like oranges. And only one of us cried.
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This is how Tucker wishes he got down the stairs. In reality, he rolls down at least one step per day. We’re working on it.
He does not know it, but tonight it is bath time. Shhh.
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Guess who walked on his leash without chewing on it or grumbling about it….
(Hint: Not Tucker)
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