Pug on a Diet

Early every morning, the pug comes into our room and paws at my side of the bed for me to lift him up. It’s too high for him to jump — the top of the bed’s about four feet off the ground.

This morning I leaned over and hoisted him like I always do, but instead of the dog ending up on the bed, I went over the side and almost decapitated myself on the corner of the nightstand, on the way to a hard meeting with Mister Floor.

“It’s okay,” my wife said. “Try again tomorrow.”

The dog was unharmed. He’s not fat but a modest weight reduction program may be in the cards for him . . .

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