My love affair with the Pug began when I was a child of 7 or 8 when a little snorting, snuffling, sneezing fawn female Pug wandered up to our doorstep and refused to leave. Mum, being the softy she was, eventually let her inside when after a full day she was still on the doorstep.
We never found her owners and she was obviously well cared for before she became lost. We named her Rosie.
Several months later, at school, a filthy, flea ridden and bedraggled male Pug wandered into the playground. I gave him my lunch and locked him in the toilets until it was home time.
He was so filthy and flea ridden that when I bought him home mum immediately told me I had to bath him. The water turned red from the fleas!
We named him Roscoe.