After receiving a torrent of requests  following the Cooper post, I figured I’d visit the other side of the pet equation in my house and tell you a little bit about Milo.
The Boyfriend got him from a breeder in Kyuushu a few years ago, and was very excited with the prospect of having a cute little pug puppy to spend his days with. Of course, the cute little puppy would eventually grow up to be a proper dog, but that was expected and even in Japan they can’t make dogs that don’t age. I went with him to pick up the pup at Itami airport, and helped get him used to his new home at The Boyfriend’s apartment. And he was just the cutest little thing, but puppies always are.
Now some of you – and I know who you are – might be asking “Why a pug?” I can’t say for sure, really. I do know that a small dog is really the only option for an apartment-dweller in Japan, and there aren’t that many breeds of small dog that aren’t completely obnoxious. While pugs may not be the prettiest of dogs , they fall pretty low on the actual obnoxiousness scale.
Most of the time.
Anyway, I helped name the dog, which I think was a good move on The Boyfriend’s part. I’ve never been impressed with Japanese pet names. For some reason, a lot of people go with food names for their dogs, which I’m not down with. Or, god forbid, just “Wan-chan,” which is pretty much the equivalent of calling your dog “Doggie” for the rest of its life. I pulled up a baby name site and started plowing through ideas one after the other, and Milo just seemed to fit.
A little bit about him: He’s about four years old now and he’s a good dog, as dogs go. He obeys commands – most of the time – and generally behaves himself. He plays with Cooper (or “is played with” by Cooper, which while being accurate is also the Passive Voice, and we know how writers feel about the Passive), loves to go on walks, and sits on the couch no matter that I really think he shouldn’t. But, then, he’s not really my dog – he’s The Boyfriend’s. Whoever cleans up the poo, after all, is the one in charge.
He’s really clingy, which is something that is normal for pugs – he’ll be sitting under my chair and I’ll get up to get a drink. He’ll jump up and go with me. Then I go back to my chair, and he’ll follow me back. A few minutes later, I have to get a snack, and he’s up and with me again. Then we go back. Given his druthers, Milo would never let either one of us out of his sight. Not quite sure why this is – maybe it’s a breed thing, or maybe he’s just a little neurotic. Either way, I do wish he would just relax sometimes.
Oh, and he sheds. Dear gods, does he shed. Oh, and whenever anyone rings the doorbell? He freaks right the hell out. We’ve tried to break him of this little quirk, but he’s having none of it, which pretty much fits his personality. He’s willing to play along and be The Dog up to a point, but there are some things for which Milo simply will not stand. Visitors, other barking dogs – and children. This is where he and I really are of like mind. Neither of us likes the sound of children’s voices raised in joy. Or any other emotion. And then there’s the snoring. But he’s learned to put up with that by now.
All in all, though, Milo is a good dog, and that’s coming from someone who has never really been a dog person.
 Okay, just one. (a)
 And they’re not. Buggy eyes, wrinkles all over their face, there’s a lot that can go wrong with a pug. Blame the ancient Chinese.
(a) from inside my own head