Having had a pug already (sniff sniff, R.I.P. Thor), I already know this fact: Everyone loves pugs. Want proof? Yesterday, C and I are in the car with Bruno in the backseat. We have the windows rolled half-way down so that Bruno can put his little pug head out the window. We pull up to a red light, and a car pulls up next to us. Obviously laughing at Bruno, the driver rolls down his window and says, "Beautiful dog. Can I have him?" I honestly think that if we had said "Yes," he would have taken him right there, right in the middle of Georgia Avenue.
These kinds of things happen wherever we go. We have started taking Bruno to our local dog park. We've been there maybe five times and already, people know Bruno. They don't know us or our names, but they sure know Bruno. And they know The Tongue.
Taking Bruno on our daily walks has also proved to be an experience. We once had a girl ask if she could take a picture of Bruno with her camera phone. Of course we obliged. Dang paparazzi.
Being a dog owner is funny. I remember hiking in the Wasatch (or anywhere really) and everyone you saw on the trails suddenly became your friends. This happened especially if you were hiking early or late in the season, or if you were on a remote, lesser-known trail. But it was fairly common to stop and start chatting with your fellow hiker about gear or the destination. Dog owning is the same thing. Owning a dog puts you into a "dog owners subculture." We have lived in our apartment for over two years and never spoken to a gentleman who lives on the first floor, nor did he ever talk to us. But then we got Bruno and suddenly we know Diamond and Diamond's Human. We say hi. We talk dog-talk. We're friends. We understand each other.