Pug

The pug operates by an old principle its admirers know by heart: multum in parvo, or “much in little.” For in that stocky, small body there lives a personality the size of a room — cheerful, sociable, and gifted with a real comic talent. The pug doesn't just want to be at home. The pug wants to be the home's main attraction. It's happiest when it has an audience and you're laughing at its latest antic — and it does absolutely everything to make sure that's exactly how it is.

As befits a comedian, the pug has, moreover, made a great international career. It began in ancient China as the beloved dog of monks and emperors — legend has it that the wrinkles on its forehead were prized because they formed a mark resembling the word “prince.” But its most famous performance took place in the Netherlands: a pug named Pompey woke the sleeping Prince William of Orange in the middle of the night when enemies had crept into the camp — and with that alarm saved his life. As a reward, pugs became favorites of the whole dynasty and, along with it, eventually reached the English court, and then the drawing rooms of all Europe. Since then this little dog has essentially done one thing: it conquers one court after another. Most recently — yours. Very much in the spirit of its motto: much in little.

It has the perfect equipment for it: that large, round head, the wrinkled forehead, and bulging eyes that can take on literally any expression — from deep contemplation to sincere indignation that someone has just stopped petting it. It communicates, meanwhile, with its own repertoire of snorts, wheezes, and grunts, which after a while you start to understand like a second language. And all this delivered with the gravity of a small dignitary who evidently has no idea that it's hilarious — and that's exactly what makes it funnier still.

All this clowning has, moreover, a tender backstory: the pug is a dog with a genuinely warm, sociable heart. It lives for closeness — but in an active version: quietly lying in a corner isn't enough for it, it wants to take part, to get involved, to be in the very middle of whatever you're doing. It senses moods, meanwhile, better than you might expect from such a jester, and on a bad day it can settle in closer to simply cheer you up with its repertoire of faces. It was always bred purely for companionship and joy — and it takes that role with full devotion. That's why one so badly wants it to stay with us healthy as long as possible.

Here begins the part where the pug really needs your good judgment — because its two great loves, food and being the center of attention, together form a dangerous duo. The pug can beg for a snack in such a way that it stages for you an entire spectacle of astonishment at how it's even possible it hasn't gotten one yet — and since it's a low-activity dog naturally inclined to gain weight, every “reward for being adorable” deposits itself instantly. The secret is simple: don't pay the comedian in food.

Because the pug won't dazzle you with either agility or obedience — it does something far harder: it makes sadness hard to come by in its company. It's a small, devoted comedian whose only aim in life is to be close to you and, at every turn, to remind you that life can simply be fun.

Your role in this arrangement is simple and full of tenderness: care for its weight, its breathing, and those funny little folds as attentively as it cares for your good mood. Because a well-managed pug means years of small, cheerful happiness — a comedian who, to the very end, will be convinced that all of this is one big, shared game, and that you're its best audience.