This fine, distinguished gentleman is IGGY POP. He is also known as Igz, The Igguana, Igg, The Iggcelence of Iggecution (a wrestling joke), and many other things. He is not to be confused with the other Iggy Pop, former leader singer of The Stooges and the grandfather of punk. (To clarify any confusion, we may have his name changed to Iggy Pup.)
He has been hanging with us for a grand total of 12 hours and has managed to keep me from sleeping, go out to the bathroom at least a dozen times, mark every curb in our neighborhood, jump on my father who stopped by for a quick visit, and endear himself to our daughter.
Iggy comes to us via Pug Rescue of New England. He is 4.5 years old and built – well – he’s built like me. Big trunk, short legs, and a thick neck. He also, incidentally, runs like I do – slowly and swaying. He is also VERY BIG for his breed.
He is quite a character, and when he first came to us, we thought he was a bit rambunctious but now that he’s slept in the house (on Ariel’s bed naturally), he has calmed down a bit.
I committed the egregious mistake of having to go the bathroom at 4:30 this morning, which prompted him to remember that he needed to go to the bathroom also. Since I’m an early rise anyway, I took him out and then gave him his breakfast. Since then, he has been crashed at my feet sleeping. Lucky him.
We’re not completely settled on keeping him yet. Having a dog in the house is a big, stinky responsibility. We’re still working on it. You can pray for us. Those of you who know me know that sleep is one of those things I really, really value.