This is Puppy Love!
I’ve always loved animals, but dogs have a special place in my heart. Back in Italy, we had big, loyal dogs — German Shepherds, Newfoundlands, and Boxers. Our family home was in the countryside, so they had all the space they wanted to run, swim in a nearby little lake, and nap in the shade. They weren’t just pets; they were part of the family. I grew up with them, and I loved them deeply.
When I moved to London, I missed having a dog terribly. The house felt empty. After some time (and a bit of gentle persuasion), I convinced my husband to get one. Choosing the breed wasn’t easy — I was used to large dogs with personality. Then one day, I met a pug… and that was it. That funny, wrinkly face made me smile instantly.
We adopted a rehoused pug called Frank. He already had the name, but honestly, it suited him perfectly — he looked like a little old gentleman. We shared eleven wonderful years together. Frank was full of joy and appetite — he would eat everything… except celery! In his final year, he began to have dental problems, and because of his short nose, treatment was complicated. He wouldn’t let anyone check his mouth, and sedating him was too risky.
So, I started cooking for him. I called a dear friend of mine, a vet back in Italy, and asked her what kind of food could help. I began preparing homemade meals — different proteins, grains, and vegetables — all portioned and frozen for the week. He loved it. He seemed happier, more energetic. Seeing him eat with joy again was a gift.
Sadly, when Frank was twelve, he was hit by a car. Losing him was devastating. For a long time, I couldn’t even think about getting another dog. But after a while, I realised that the silence in the house was too heavy. My daughter also longed for a cheerful companion, so one day we decided — it was time to open our hearts again.
Right: Syd now
That’s how Syd Vicious came into our lives (yes, we gave him a Punk name, we were in London after all!). He was a tiny two-month-old pug when we brought him home — small enough to fit in my hands. The breeder told us it was the perfect age to bond, and she was right. I became a very devoted — maybe slightly overprotective — puppy mum.
But Syd was a tricky eater. He would look at his kibble as if it were beneath him! The breeder told me, “Just leave it, he’ll eat when he’s hungry.” But that’s not my way. I even reached out to the owner of his father, Arlo (you can find him on Instagram — @Arlotheantisocialpug; he’s quite the celebrity), and learned that Arlo had been picky, too.
So, back to the kitchen I went — pots, pans, and a phone call to my vet friend in Italy. I started cooking for Syd too: chicken with rice, lentils with turkey, sometimes beef with sweet potato — always balanced, always made with love.
Now, Syd is two years old, a proper young man. He eats his kibble again, though when we travel, he still turns his nose up. So before every trip, I prepare his meals, freeze them, and take them with us. Because honestly, I can’t stand the thought of him being hungry.
If you want to meet him, he’s on Instagram — @Sydthefluffypug. He’s spoiled, charming, and full of personality. And like any good Italian dog, he knows that food made with love always tastes better.
