Studs with Pugs: Oh hey, Holmboy!

I'm a wee-bit superstitious.

I don't know if it comes from being a born and raised Cubs fan, or I'm just that OCD and am a big fan of finding patterns in things. Whatever reason, if some action brings a favorable/unfavorable result, then I'm going to keep doing it/not doing it.

Earlier this month, I used Studs with Pugs to appeal to Ted Danson to help get my friend a job. And it worked! She didn't take the job, but still. Then the week after, I appealed to DC to take out the WTTHMG and help The Human Male get a job. And guess what? He got TWO last week!

Call me crazy, but it seems as if that the facts point to good things happening to those who relate to Studs with Pugs.

That being said...

Izzy's still hasn't come home. There have been a few spottings in the 'hood, and it sounds like the neighbors are being really helpful, calling whenever they see her and letting my folks set up live traps to catch her in their yards. But she's scared, not thinking clearly, and not coming home when the opportunity arises.

Needless to say, my whole family's extremely upset. We just want her home.

While I was going through my pictures to find some of Izzy to post, I came across one of my all-time favorite pictures of my brother Pedro. It struck me as a perfect Stud with Pugs offering. And I decided that I don't want to wait until Friday to post it.

So behold-- it's your Stud with Pugs of the week: Pedro.


Let me just say, I freaking love this picture. It's such a wonderful candid moment.

The Human Male and I been trying to figure out what Power That Is could be appeased with this one. St. Anthony was on the table, but it ends up that The Human Male's mom has him on speed-dial-- he's gotten a few calls this week. So then we were thinking that maybe we could appeal to Michigan, showing a local staring out a window into its loveliness. And then maybe persuade it to have a little earthquake-- small enough not to do any damage, but strong enough to shake Izzy from wherever she is, scoot her into the house, and shut the door.

Still, that doesn't seem right. So I'm not going to try. Instead, I'm going to tell you about Pedro.

I will openly admit that I occasionally have a hard time realizing that Pedro's not 14. I know this may sound insulting, but I actually pictured him as a six-year-old obsessed with Ninja Turtles, wearing too-short Donatello pajamas like these and insisting we call him Leonardo (pronounced closer to "Eedo-ado" than how it's spelled) until a few years ago. So maybe this is not so bad. But like in pretty much every insurance commercial out there right now, when Eedo-ado starts talking about driving to campus, the philosophy class he's taking, his Blackberry, or the fancy beer he just tried, I'm brutally reminded that he's actually an adult. A real live adult.

And a pretty cool one at that.* Pedro's a history major, has a great sense of humor, a good group of friends, and regularly sees hip, hot movies before I do. Can I tell you how excited I was a year ago when we both happened to see Cloverfield on the same day, at the same time? Holy cow, I felt so cool, I immediately called up Mamala and told her that Pedro and I were related after all.

He also kind of looks like House. Much more than he looks like our sister C-Bond or me.

Pedro claims he hates the dogs, that he's more of a cat person. Watching him with his cat "The Sweez" over the years, I'd believe it. He loves her to bits and pieces, and she acts like he's the best thing since canned cat food.


But then I see how he is with Z, Iz, and Harry, and I realize that he's a humongous, giant liar.**

So I guess I'd like to use this post not so much as an appeal, but maybe more of an addendum to all of the wonderful prayers, thoughts, well-wishings, and effort people have been sending my family's way the past few days. Even people who claim to hate dogs give Izzy this good of a life. I think that's a sign she doesn't deserve to be scared, cold, and lonely. She needs to be come home now.


*We'll overlook that he's not gallant enough to trade his lame new Mustang for my super awesome 12-year-old Cavalier.

**I'd like to point out to Mamala that I'm not. So obviously I should be your favorite child.