We attended the Sarasota Pug Parade today. If you’re laughing right now, that’s OK. It’s something us pug owners are accustomed to. We’re loons. We dress our pugs in costume and force them down a catwalk. The event is such a draw I’ve met pug owners from as faraway as INDIANA. The parade, which began 13 years ago in downtown Sarasota, grew so rapidly it relocated further east to a park in Lakewood Ranch (home of Dick Vitale) and is such a big deal it’s sponsored by Sarasota Magazine, a very glossy, very posh publication.
Anyway. I was totally in my element this morning, snatching poor, defenseless pugs from their kooky owners. Lately, I’ve been coveting a little black one, so as soon as I spotted this Tootsie Roll I asked its owner if I could hold her. He handed the pup over without hesitation and told me her name was Tasha. Joe snapped a photo and I started planning my escape, which is why in the background of this photo you can see the pug’s female owner approaching quickly. She knew I couldn’t be trusted.
Also, I find it amazing that I can remember dog names, but never people names.