A conversation with a Pug.

I'm a bad Pug owner. I ran out of chicken chewies and I haven't bought any yet.

My picky Pug only likes a certain kind of chewies, and it just so happens that I can't buy them in my hometown.

Dog, you're special, but you're not so special that I'm going to drive 100 miles specifically to buy you treats.

Of course, Penny doesn't understand this. Every day, almost every time she sees me, she asks for a chicken chewie. She looks at my bookshelf, does a little happy dance, starts whining, and gives me those big Pug eyeballs.

I wonder what she thinks sometimes. Does she think the chewies just magically appear on my bookshelf? Does she think if she whines enough, they'll appear out of nowhere?

I'll buy her some when I go out of town in a couple weeks. Until then, I'm going to have a very sad Pug on my hands.