Dogs help make life a walk in the park

At first I was very self-conscious about walking Dorothy and Toto.\nI mean, I'm a big guy, an ex-football player and a big Stones fan. I'm not supposed to be seen in public with two pugs. They're so tiny and ... well, cute. And they have curly tails. Here I am, going for the Grizzly Adams look, but instead of a huge, scary-looking bear, I'm walking two little rug rats.\nFor the first week I was in town, my housemates were on vacation and entrusted me with caring for the mutts. So for eight days, I it was my job to walk the little buggers. In public. For everyone to see. Me and the pugs. I was mortified.\nI soon learned that Dorothy and Toto had some little quirks. Pugs, I found out, have trouble breathing because their faces are basically smooshed in. And Dorothy, I learned, has it particularly bad. She snorts and hacks and wheezes regularly.\nOn the second day I was dog-sitting, I put them outside on their chains for about an hour or so. It's something I always did with our dog at home, so I figured it would be no problem with Dorothy and Toto. But when I went out to get the pugs, Dorothy was wheezing loudly, and I started to panic. Great, I thought. I've killed her.\nNot knowing that Dorothy always does this, I rushed her inside, gave her cold water and started to plan my alibi. But after about a half an hour or so, she calmed down and started to breathe normally -- at least, normally for her. I, on the other hand, was still about to pass out.\nToto was also a challenge. His little quirk, as it turned out, was pooping on the floor. I would get up at 7 a.m. and walk the pugs. We'd walk up and down the neighborhood, and while Dorothy did everything she needed to do, Toto would only do No. 1.\nThat is, until he got back inside. Within a half an hour of the walk, I would find a little pile of joy somewhere in the house. This happened on a daily basis, and by the end of the week, I was at my wits' end. But eventually, I got philosophical about it and found inner peace regarding Toto's bathroom habits. As long as he doesn't poop in my room, I said to myself, it doesn't matter to me.\nToto and Dorothy also like to play, with usually involves them running around the house at top speed and trying to chew on each other's faces. Toto will bite Dorothy's tail and just yank, while Dorothy will get all huffy and attempt to body-slam Toto.\nAnd, lucky enough for me, they often like to do this when they're on my lap. They're so loud and noisy that my mother can hear them yipping and growling over the phone. And when Toto gets really worked up, he'll start to bite my fingers or nip at my nose.\nWhich, of course, is both painfully annoying and endearingly cute. Despite their quirks, despite failing asleep to Dorothy's snoring, despite having to pick up piles of doodie, I've grown to love Dorothy and Toto. True, every once in a while, they can be a pain in the butt. But most of the time, they're endlessly affectionate and unconditionally loving.\nAnd that comes in handy when I'm feeling lousy and depressed. If I didn't have them around, I'm not sure I would have made it this far into the semester. They've taught me that even ex-football players can have a soft spot for a little cuteness.\nAs long, of course, as there's no poop in my room.