Thanks to the votes of his loyal friends and fans, Sid made it as a finalist in the Curly Tail Pug Rescue 2012 Calendar Contest. Thank you all for your votes!

But the contest is not over yet and the votes are still important to ensure he gets on a page in the calendar.

Here are the links to vote:
AUGUST or OCTOBER

(Sid’s fur-pals, Mochi, Macho, and Marshmallow are also finalists for February and May! Congrats you guys!)

So just to remind you of how calendar-worthy Sid is, here’s some cute shots of him from this past weekend.

When Sid lays down, he really lays down. We’re talking flat. If he were ever in a limbo competition, he’d surely get first prize.

Monday mornings are usually prime pug-snuggle time, but on this particular Monday morning I could tell Sid had something on his mind.  After a few minutes of belly-scratchin’, Sid looked off into the distance and said, “Mom, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be not a pug.”

“Not a pug?” I replied. “A pug seems like a pretty good thing to be.”

“Yeah, being a pug is cool,” said Sid, “but there are so many things out there that are all going about their day, being what they are, and I’ll never know what it’s like to be any of them.  I only get to be a pug.  And you only get to be you.  And Dad only gets to be Dad. Doesn’t that make you feel, you know, a little sad?  Ew, sorry for the rhyme.”

“No problem, buddy, and, yeah,” I sighed, while scratching his ears, “sometimes that does make me sad.  But, you know what’s great? Every now and then I can pretend to be not me.  Like, when I’m writing a script, or doing improv, or even just dressing up for Halloween.  I can put myself in something else’s shoes and for a little while I can see what life might be like if I were something other than me.”

“Pretend, huh?  Can I pretend to be not a pug?  Uh, I mean, not forever, of course.  I don’t want to miss dinner.”

“Of course!  Pretending is just a temporary change.  Zero commitment!  What do you want to pretend to be?”

Sid thought hard for a moment. “There are sooo many things…”

Sid proceeded to imagine life as a meerkat, tipping back for a good lean while resting his arms awkwardly on his belly.

“Man, being a meerkat is a pain in the neck!” he quickly exclaimed.

Then Sid pretended to be a snail, slowly extending his neck while bugging out his eyes in opposite directions.

“Snails must be dizzy all day long,” he sighed, “and talk about patience! It must take them years to get to their food bowl!”

Then Sid pretended to be a rose bush, unfurling his tongue into a pretty pink bloom.

“Tho this ith what it’th like to be a rothe?,” lisped Sid, valiantly attempting to stay in character.  “Being a rothe thinkth!”

Then, for whatever reason, Sid pretended to be Brian’s yoga ball.

“Not bad,” reasoned Sid, “although I imagine my opinion of this would change if Dad were actually sitting on me all day long.”

“What are you pretending to be now?” I asked.

“I’m pretending to be YOU pretending to be a person who can play guitar!”

“Wow, Sid,” I laughed.  “That’s pretty meta!  Well done!”

“I don’t know what meta means,” Sid groaned, “but all this pretending to be something that’s pretending to be something that’s pretending to be something is making my brain hurt!”

So, Sid took a break from pretending while I gave him a nice head massage.

And after spending a moment or two deep in thought, Sid looked up and said, “You know, Mom, I think I might actually be pretty lucky. I get to be a pug.”

Fair warning, people: we’re about to get sappy.

About two years ago today, Brian and I officially adopted a surly little pug named Siddhartha.

It was a surprisingly difficult feat to accomplish, although looking back at the events of the time and how they unfolded, it seems as though some magical force had determined long ago that Sid belonged by our side.  And I’m pretty sure that force was Bea Arthur.

No, not that Bea Arthur.

This Bea Arthur:

See, I was never a dog person.  They just always seemed so…needy.  And the slobber…oh, God, the slobber!  For me, cats were where it was at.  I adored cats – so dainty and independent and not slobbery.  I couldn’t get enough of them.  I was obsessed, and I begged my parents constantly for a cat of my own.  I remember, when I was eight, waking up on Christmas morning and walking into the living room to find, perched on top of the huge pile of presents underneath the tree and keeping perfectly still, a black and white cat. I couldn’t believe my eyes – and I shouldn’t have, because that perfectly still cat was actually a very realistic cat PUPPET.  That Christmas went down as the year I discovered the dangerous combination of high-hopes and uncorrected myopia.

When I was sixteen, though, my parents surprised me with two kittens – twin boys from the same litter who snuggled and hugged each other for about 18 hours a day for their entire lives together.  I named them Sherman and Chez, and they more than lived up to my expectations of how awesome cats could be.  Chez, in particular, was my cat; there was something about our personalities that just clicked, whereas Sherman took more to my mom and my brother.  The cats stayed with my mom as I went to college, studied in London, and moved to Los Angeles, but whenever I came home, no matter how long I was gone, Chez, my feline soulmate, would greet me by rolling onto his back so I could give him a good belly-scratchin’ and then would spend the rest of my visit by my side or on my lap.

In November of 2007, at the age of 12, Chez passed away in his sleep.  Brian and I had just gotten married that June, and we were still living in Los Angeles at the time.  The last time I had seen Chez was the day before our wedding, a day so hectic that I’m not even sure I said good-bye.  As any pet owner can understand, my heart was broken.  I was devastated.  No animal is replaceable, but for me, Sherman and Chez were both the beginning and the end.  I knew that by marrying Brian, my first cats would also be my only cats. See, Brian is severely allergic to cat dander.  His throat closes up, he wheezes, his eyes swell – it’s definitely not one of those “grin-and-bear-it” mild reactions that some cat owners are able to live with.  There’s no getting around it.  Chez’s passing carried with it an extreme sense of finality.  I just couldn’t ever imagine loving a dog the way I loved that cat, or any cat, so it seemed as though Chez would be the only animal with whom I’d share such a bond.

Then, almost a year later, we visited Brian’s friends Angelica and Marco in San Francisco.

That is when I met Bea Arthur.

I had never met a pug before, and Bea is a pug-supreme.  Aloof, full of attitude, stubborn, ever the lady (even with a tooth infection that made her breath smell like sun-baked tuna), and unintentionally comedic, Bea was like a cat in (hilarious) dog’s clothing, and she spent our entire visit curled on my lap and sleeping with me on the couch, her rank tuna breath wafting about.  By the time the weekend was over, I was converted.  I needed a pug, and I needed one now.

Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles, there was a friend of a friend of a friend who needed to find a new home for a pug named Siddhartha…

(To be continued… )

Earlier this week, Puglet, star of The Daily Puglet (one of the many other pug blogs we enjoy reading), created an awesome webpage for all his internet friends of the furry variety to post their photos on. After the whole incident last week with the adorable baby pug and everything, Sid insisted we posted one of his more youthful looking shots (he’s a tad vain). After combing through our whole iPhoto library, which is about 80% Sid photos at this point, we finally agreed on the photo above – one of Jenn’s personal favorites.

Anyway, here a couple more from the same day. He was really working his angles like a true pug model. I mean, what Pug wouldn’t want to buy that blue t-shirt he’s wearing after seeing him sporting it?

It rained all weekend and is supposed to rain all this week as well. Sid has hunkered down into his bed with a few of his favorite toys to keep him company. I know what you’re all thinking but I swear I did not pose him like this. He is a studied master at the art of cute.

Nothin’ too exciting here.  Just a fresh new bag of Sid’s favorite food – Dick Van Patten’s Natural Balance Limited Ingredient Venison and Sweet Potato dry dog food.

But, wait – what’s that blurry, furry mound of impatience lying behind the doggy gate?

Oh, Sid.  Have some dignity, man.