Like many of you, I’ve put on a few inches during the winter. And I was made aware of it by seeing a front page view of my fanny at the check out stands.
I want to leave this “behind” me so I am going to share with you how I plan ready to get bikini ready for summer.
Diet: It has the word DIE in it, so I am going to skip that. After all, who wants to die? There are things to die for, like a good belly rub, a steak bone, or a trip to the park, but lowering the amount or type of food I LOVE??? Heck no!
Exercise: Going to skip that one too.
Dolly’s “Sure-Fired-Diet-and-Exercise-Free” Solution: Napping. It’s really genius if you think about it! First, you are not eating if you are sleeping. It’s low impact… actually NO impact. You get that much needed rest. And BONUS, you can do it with your humans. Below are a few examples of the exercise. If you get lost by the expert maneuvers I am able to pull off, don’t worry, free-style it!
I plan on losing all the excess “me” by the first day of Spring, but if I don’t, I will keep plugging away at this nap thing. Below is an expert tip on how to hide your fluffy-ness:
Your Style Guru, Dolly The Pug Editor In Chief – The Dolly Papers
Some compared my lifestyle to a pre-teen Drew Barrymore/Lindsay Lohan (of course with much better couture)!
It’s been a while since I last wrote my column and I wanted to explain to you, my slavishly loyal fanbase, why…
As you are aware, at a very early age I ascended to the dizzying heights of stardom. As a mere puppy, I was appearing on the cover of international tabloids. I was so famous, that verbs were named after me. Sayings like “I Dolly’d”, and “Dolly up” became part of popular culture. Some compared my lifestyle to a pre-teen Drew Barrymore/Lindsay Lohan (of course with much better couture)!
I flew in private jets. I dined at the tables of royalty. I sat front-and-center at the fashion shows. But as we all know, all that goes up, must eventually come crashing down. And crashing down I did! My weight ballooned. I stayed out late, missing important meetings. My inner circle began to dwindle, replaced by hangers-on.
One day I found myself looking into the mirror and wondering what happened to that joyful puppy of yesteryear that romped with tennis balls and found joy in the simple things like long walks and head rubs?
My remaining friends staged an intervention and I was whisked off to Puggy Ford where I dried-out. I went on a strictly vegan cleanse. Gone were the Kobe beef patties, replaced by kombucha and kale. I meditated. I hiked. I did yoga – well, not actually on purpose, but trying to get out of my Spanks I found myself in a very downward dog pose once. In other words, I found “me” again!
I stand before you, a new, happier puppy. And I am returning to my post as style-guru at Diva Dog where I will send off weekly missives about the latest trends from around the world. And of course, keep you up to date on my glamorous, though much more “centered” life.
So for now I don’t say goodbye, I say I’ll see you again next week!
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Today I am grateful for just being me… a pug. Being a pug has it’s privileges and among them is being a lap dog and I excel at that art. Lapping as we experts call it, requires letting all of your inhibitions go and being really, really pushy. Nobody, nowhere, and no time is off limits for taking your rightful place.
Dolly The Pug
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Day two on my 25 days of gratitude world tour takes us to my home. To a round, fluffy, cuddly, soft and warm little piece of this planet I call my bed. I acknowledge I sleep on many surfaces in my home. Couches, backs of chairs, my humans laps etc. but my own little bed is where I feel most secure.
Not only is my bed the once piece of furniture in the house that is solely mine, its portable! Its like having an RV. I drag it from room to room to follow the humans daily routines. Once the coffee pot goes on, my portable home takes to the road and we travel to the dining room where I wait for stray morsels of breakfast to land in my bowl. From there its a whirlwind of locations. The exotic land of Kitchen. Kitchen has hot and cold temperatures and the scent of far away places. One day it’s China and the next it’s Mexico. Living room is next on my itinerary. LR as I like to call it, is a veritable oasis. There’s cushions galore, carpet to run my paws across and it’s the home of many laps. And my all time favorite vacation spot is bedroom. Bedroom is where I stay-cation and relax.
This world traveler is now weary. I am going to drag my bed to Bedroom and park it. Au revoir, arrivederci and adios.
Dolly the Pug,
The Dolly Files
The Dolly Files are brought to you by Diva-Dog. Dolly doesn’t wear collars often, but when she does… she wears Diva-Dog. www.diva-dog.com
I’ve been inspired by my many followers posts about things they are thankful for. Obviously I live a life of privileged, but the “little things” are still what matter most to this pug.
Day one of “Things I Am Thankful For” – Car Rides
There isn’t a dog alive that doesn’t go weak at the knees when they hear their owners car keys jingle. Wind on our faces, ears flapping in the wind and the occasional bark at passing motorcycles – live just doesn’t get any better that this. So humans, you may think it’s just a short drive to the drugstore, or a quick drive-thru to grab a cup of coffee, but to us dogs, it’s the biggest thing to happen to us today. Strap a dog in and ride. Ride like the wind!!!
As you may be aware, I am a Spokes-Pug for Diva-Dog. In addition to the hectic modeling duties that I handle with grace and panache, I am sometimes called upon to let you know about new things they are introducing. My agent told me this is part of my “contract”. Alright then, a girl needs to work for her kibble so here ya go:
Mistletoe: It doesn’t get any more holly jolly than this! The Mistletoe dog collar is made from plush red velvet (rumor has it that it’s the exact same velvet Santa wears). And it is topped with a red satin flower with gold gilded edges, like a bow on the top of a present. You can select from either Holly Red or Pine Green.
A Formal Affair:Special occasions happen year-round, and no pup’s wardrobe is complete without a fancy dress collar! The Formal Affair dog collar is perfect for weddings, galas, parties and anywhere your pooch needs to make an entrance.
Olly:The Olly is an ode to the cocktail olive. Salty orbs of olive green are pierced by black cocktail picks and centered with ruby red pimentos. The Olly is the big sister of Yappy Hour, our shot glass sized collar for smaller dogs.
Dori:The Dori dog collar is fresh, like a summer breeze in the country. Dori’s hand embroidered flower is a pop of color against a muted, celery green velvet. The matching leash has a detachable flower.
OK, there are a few more “new for the holidays” collars to choose from, but I seem to have lost my focus (it’s nap time) so click here to check them all out!
School is out, the sun is hot and I’m exhausted. It must be summer. And you know what summer rhymes with? BUMMER! Yes, you heard me right. I am not a fan of the summer solstice.
If you are built like me, short legs, or as I like to say – “ground hugging traction” you are closer to the hot pavement. Additionally, my classic looks include a somewhat underdeveloped nose. It is of course fabulous to look at, but harder to breathe thru. Combine that with the fact that I am of generous proportions, and you have one hot dog!
I have found a way to combat the ravages of summer with a simple routine. I bask in the sun early in the day, and follow that up with a power nap. The power nap is a necessary part of this regimen. Without the added energy and vigor of the nap, I can barely gather myself for my midday snack!
I repeat step 2 & 3 (for those of you not listening, that’s another nap and another snack) a couple more times but within the confines of my luxury, air conditioned abode. This goes on for HOURS. Nap, snack, nap, snack etc. I call this “Beast Mode”. Caution: You have to work your conditioning up to this.
Finally the sun sets and I’m ready for dinner! It’s the best time of the day.
Dear reader, I don’t know if you realize this, but you are constantly under surveillance. Not by your government, aliens from outer space or the great All Mighty. You are under the watchful eye of your pet. To be more specific, your dog!
Dogs sort of slip under the radar. We are at your feet when you are flossing. Sitting on your lap when you are reading. And generally just blending in to the background. Most dogs are trying to get your attention. They want to be petted, fed or just acknowledged in most instances. But occasionally you run across Spy Dog. Spy Dog is interested in your every move. We sniff everything you touch, we slink up behind you and root thru the trash can you just deposited something into (it could be a clue)! Spy Dog even watches you when you sleep. We are the ever-vigilant protectors of the universe (we aren’t sure what we are protecting you from, but we are always on duty).
Don’t fear Spy Dog. Don’t stop Spy Dog. Just go about your business and let us do our job. Oh, and Spy Dog works for treats. Treat Spy Dog!
Undercover! On the Job!
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For some reason people LOVE to dress up their dogs, and in particular, pugs! My human has stuffed my plump little body into everything from a vampire bat costume, a frilly summer frock, a very bad 70’s disco vest and what can only be described as “Barrio-Chic”.
I’m not above the occasional twirl down the runway of life, I’m used to the “oohs!” and “aahs!” as I saunter past, but things have gotten out of hand. I’ve seen web searches for booties! Yes, I said booties. Small boots for dogs. Shoes, for a dog! What in heavens name do I need booties for? I live indoors… in Southern California. My paws are used to the plush feel of carpet, or a soft summer breeze as I am conveyed about the yard. Not the constriction of soles and shoe laces.
I’ve put my ear to the wall to listen to the late night confabs my human has had with her fellow dog-crazy friends. She’s been sizing me up for what can only be described as Pug Spanx! I don’t need tummy control panels, or booty pads. And certainly NOT sandal toes!
On behalf of all canines I beseech you all, this madness must end! And by end I mean no more doggy glasses, tiaras, hats, tutu’s or other accessories you think would look “cute” on us. We. Are. Not. Amused!
This weeks “Musings of a Muse” was brought to you by Diva-Dog! Check out the latest in Canine Chic at www.diva-dog.com
I was told there’s going to be a super bowl next weekend! My little heart jumped at the thought of a giant bowl of kibble.
I was told there’s going to be a super bowl next weekend! My little heart jumped at the thought of a giant bowl of kibble. Would it be chicken? Fish? Dare I say BISON??? But no, what you humans call a Super Bowl isn’t kibble. It isn’t even in a bowl! What’s wrong with the world?
If puppies were in charge, things would be different. And by different, I mean delicious. A giant metal bowl would be created and filled to the brim with delightful treats. Puppies from all over the world would join together in a contest of true grit. Winners would be decided by how many kibbles could be downed in a 60 minute time frame. Our half time show would involve cats, mail men and squirrels. And the victor would receive a life-sized sculpture of themselves carved out of steak.
So next weekend, when you are watching that boring game on tv, ask yourself, wouldn’t a Dolly Bowl be more interesting?
Dolly the Pug
Commissioner of Mischief
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Everyone is so impressed with things like multi-tasking. Books are written on it. People brag about it on Facebook. Blah. Blah. Blah! I’m not impressed!
Everyone is so impressed with things like multi-tasking. Books are written on it. People brag about it on Facebook. Blah. Blah. Blah! I’m not impressed!
I’m what’s known as a lap dog. Definition: a small pet so precious, we not only want, but NEED to be carried about and reside mainly on laps. Yes I know, it’s a hard job, but I am up to the task.
Here’s how my workday goes:
7 am: Woken from a sound slumber by the shuffling of my humans feet. This arises in me the need to bark loudly reminding them to release me from my mountain of cushions in my crate.
7:05-7:45am: Weave in and out of the legs of my family as they try and fix breakfast, lunches and get dressed. This includes but is not limited to growling at my bowl, chewing on stray socks, shoes, erasers etc. as they float to the floor around me and generally “being a complete, and utter nuisance” (my mom’s words here, not mine.)
7:45am – 9pm: Now this is where my true talents are put to the test! Sleep on any soft surface I can find. If say, someone wants to take a nap. I’m there. If you wanted to watch tv, I’m there. If you wanted to read a book quietly, I – AM – THERE! Basically anytime you want to sit quietly and do nothing, I am your boon companion. Your BFF as you will, of total and complete loafing around.
9:01pm – 6:59am: Sleep, because all that work is exhausting!
My mom was once again watching Dr. Oz (the family usually bans her from doing this because we end up eating some crazy diet or we find he smearing strange things on her face).
My mom was once again watching Dr. Oz (the family usually bans her from doing this because we end up eating some crazy diet or we find he smearing strange things on her face). Anyway, he had a guest on that said the #1 reason he will live longer is he has a dog! Really, no kidding, a dog! Apparently us domesticated canines stare lovingly into your eyes and it reduces the overall levels of the stress hormone, cortisol in your body. Not only that, but you also get a boost in your parasympathetic nervous system activity, the system that helps calm and rest the body.
So next time you are feeling stressed out, just take a look at this picture:
While perusing the television with my humans, I ran across a “nature” program about camouflage as protection against predators. First of all, there’s nothing “natural” about living outdoors, hunting for your food, and missing nap times. It’s not just “un-natural” it goes against every fiber in my being!
Alas, I digress. The idea of camouflage is not new to me. I have been practicing my own version of it for months (I’m only 8 months old as I’m sure you already know). In order to protect myself from the occasional swats on my tush for chewing on a couch cushion, I go into “cute mode”. It involves my patented moves. There are many more, but for brevity’s sake, try these:
1. The side eye glance
2. The over the shoulder big eyes
3. The chin on the knee
4. The face between the paws
Now, this is not for everyone. Heavens NO! In fact, you must first be adorable to pull off this trick. Once you’ve established your adorableness factor (between 7-8 is meh, I’m a 10+), you can then try the beginner moves. I would start with the “Face between the paws”. It works in the most dire of situations involving expensive footwear or the accident on the carpet.
Best of luck!
Dolly the Pug
For more hints, and suggestions ask Dolly:firstname.lastname@example.org
There are the intellectuals that can be found hanging out in galleries using terms like “existential”, “painterly” and “abstract expressionism”… I’m not one of them.
There are the sporty types who know point spreads, combines and the pros and cons of designated hitters… I’m not one of them.
Then there’s the outdoors-y types. They camp. They hike. They fish, surf, climb things. Basically they’re for all things I am against!
My family is “outdoors-y”. Problem with that, you ask? After all who doesn’t want to smell fresh air and commune with Mother Nature? ME, that’s who! I am perfectly at peace with the world lying on a couch, carpet or other soft, man-made material. Driving in the comfort of a well air conditioned automobile is underrated.
I’ve been to the “mountain” and believe me, it ain’t worth the hike!
Lately I’ve been ferried about town in a tote – I’m pretty sure I’m actually being smuggled!
There appears to be stores out there that don’t want dogs in them. Weird I know, but alas it is true. Take Starbucks for instance – NOT loving dogs in their stores. Thankfully my winning smile attracted the sympathy of the baristas and they looked the other way. I’ve also been taken “on the down low” into Walmart, Macys and a few restaurants.
But here’s my real peeve: I love designer handbags like every red blooded female out there, but this has got to stop. The real issue is it’s a TOTE! It’s not even designer brand tote. This is bad for my image. If you find any photos of me stuffed into this abomination on Instagram – I am begging you to remove them, or at the very least mention I am being held against my will!
Being a world-class athlete, I am in tip-top condition at all times. My resting heart rate is optimal. My BMI is exceptionally good and my paw-eye coordination is incredible. I’m really a marvel to behold.
Why don’t I play on a team you ask? Well of course I could, and I would be the best player on the team. And that’s the problem. I am so incredibly good that I would ruin the hopes and dreams of those poor lesser talents.
Take the US Ladies Soccer team. They have a goalie. And some people think she is pretty good. But how can a person with sadly, just two feet compete with four lightening fast paws? And don’t forget a set of razor sharp teeth! It just wouldn’t be fair.
So today, while I am sitting in front of my television watching those sad bi-ped women flail and wobble about on the field, I won’t judge them to harshly. After all, it’s not their fault. There’s only room in this world for one Dolly the Pug.
I’ve heard the term “Dog Tired” bandied about by the humans in my house. They use it to describe the state of being too tired to take me on midnight raids on my kibble bowl, playing “chase me around the yard when it’s time to come in”, or basically anything I find fun!
I am here to put my paw down and say “Dog Tired” is hokum! They’re not even DOGS! I bet they watched a segment of Dr. Oz and self-diagnosed. This wouldn’t be the first time they found “symptoms” on that show. Witness the month of gluten-free, the day of super food juicing (noticed I said day, as in ONE day).
I’m a dog and I don’t get tired. I can chew on socks for hours, race around the yard till I’m panting. And still I have plenty of energy. Okay, I DO take the occasional nap. Okay, nap(sssss). But it isn’t because I’m tired, I just find a need to shut my eyes for a few minutes at a time. I’m really just in a state of meditation.
So to all you dog posers out there: GET OVER IT! Chase your dog, play ball with them, cater to their every whim, be cause we are in on your dirty little secret!
There is a magical kingdom called Dollywood. And it is ruled by a beautiful Princess named Dolly. Shoes are everywhere and everyone can chew on them without getting scolded. Kibble rains down upon the villagers like a soft summer shower. Nobody wears collars and leashes are outlawed. Kicking over a wastebasket full of paper, and chewing on the balls of wadded up fun is the national pastime.
Where is this place, you ask? It resides in the brain of a small pug. Her name? Princess Dolly. Welcome to Dolly’s world.
Written on behalf of Princess Dolly by her faithful servants.
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I know that being a celebrity comes with a lot of perks, but it also comes with the loss of ones privacy. I can no longer go to the market and shop. Ok, I never went to the market anyway. But now, even if I wanted to pretend to be a commoner and buy a can of dog food at Walmart, I would be chased back to my limo buy the blinding lights of cameras. What barbarians!
Yes, you guessed it. I’m hounded by the puperazzi. Who are the pupperazzi you ask? Well, they are a certain breed of dog (cough, Rotweiller) that bottom dwell and make their living by harassing A-listers like myself. They doctor photos to make me look like I’m not bikini ready, I’m in a cult, I’m dating George Clooney or even worse, I’m ugly!
I’ve held my head high and ignored them for far too long. The current issues on the news stands have my hackles up. I merely dropped my Chanel bag while giving a homeless man a quarter and they went crazy snapping shots of me. Obviously they used Photoshop!
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For some reason, I am supposed to “go” outdoors. Not just outdoors, mind you either. But in the cheesily named “Poo Poo Patch”. Out in the wide open. With animals. WILD ANIMALS!
I put my paw down early and said no. I will not be subject to such barbaric treatment. I asked my people “Would YOU pee outside”? My dad said yes, and my mom did not comment (I find that telling).
Anyway, they ignored my pleas. So I had to resort to plain old stubbornness. Stubbornness has done me well in these past 3 months of my life. I first refused to switch to kibble from my moms milk. But the hollow pit in my stomach soon turned me to the sirens call of the kibble bowl. I then refused to sleep all night. I would whimper like a wounded animal for hours. That worked for a while until I was then put in a crate with a towel over it. Soon, I couldn’t resist the pull of a soft warm bed and pitch dark and fell asleep for the entire night.
But now I am on a mission. My sheer force of will is going to keep me from the denigration of the Poo Poo Patch. I will stand up for all those puppies who “went” before me. I will pee at will on the rug. I will hold it in when they take me outside, then go number 2 on the bottom step of the stairs (strategically located to be stepped in when they are careening down the stairs in the morning, oblivious to my IED).
Some people might say I’m a diva. Ok, EVERYONE says I’m a Diva. So it was only natural that Diva-Dog would approach my agent to get me to model for their new campaign. Of course we turned them down – I am too “big” for that! How would they ever think that a mega-star like myself would have time in my busy day to sit and pose? But then they said it paid in kibble and we had to reconsider. After all, we’re talking about KIBBLE!
So, on the day of my shoot I arrived in total Diva style. Late. Ok, REALLY late. And they were not so pleased to see me. In fact, they were down right upset. But who can blame me? It takes hours to look this good. I don’t just roll out of bed looking adorable. I have my people. Hair, make-up, stylist, personal assistant etc. After all, who is going to carry my latte and my phone? Hello, no opposable thumbs here!
We were able to come to terms with the crew and then I went into action. I chewed on my harness, peed on the carpet, turned my tail to the camera. As I was told later “it is a total fiasco” (I think that means really good in Italian).
As the title of this article says “Move over Giselle” cuz there’s a new “B” in town, and her name is Dolly. I’ve dropped the rest of my name, because when you’re a superstar, you don’t need more than a one word name.