The Secret Lives of Pugs

Have you ever wondered or even fantasized about what your pug(s) does after you leave the house for work each day? I am sure that some of you imagine us doing all kinds of crazy things, while others of you think we merely fall into a coma-like state until your return. Actually, our activities fall somewhere in between these two extremes. The following, dear reader, is a typical day for Lizzie and me, after Mom and Dad leave the apartment.

We usually take a tour of the place, inspecting the floor for any crumbs or long-forgotten tidbits. Sometimes this is a fruitful activity but most often not. After completing our search, we head to our respective beds for a morning nap. This nap can last anywhere from two to three hours, depending on the weather or our moods. Our internal alarm clock always kicks us into an alert state so that we can wait by the door for Billy, our dog walker. As soon as we hear the whine of the elevator, its opening doors, and his footsteps coming down our hall, we are primed and wagging.

After our walk with Billy, he rewards us with some dog treats, which is great cause for celebration. Some further sniffing around often follows Billy’s departure, in case one of us has missed a morsel. On particularly challenging days, I feel the need to attack one of my miserable little stuffed animals…either the squirrel or bear. I beat them, chew on them, shake them violently, and then fall asleep with one of them in my mouth. Lizzie says my snoring is so loud that it wakens her but I say she needs to get over it. Pugs snore and she occasionally contributes to our symphony!

Some days, when I am particularly bored, I will coerce Lizzie into doing some random naughty act…like urging her tip over the garbage (if it has been left out), suggesting that she probably can’t hold her bladder or bowels until Mom or Dad gets home and that it is okay just to do it in the apartment, or sometimes I just tell her scary stories which produces the same results as above. All of these activities help pass the time and keep me entertained. I admit it, I am not proud of myself for setting Lizzie up, but pugs get bored very easily.

And there you have it…a typical day for your pug(s).

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here we are, captured by the pug cam, waiting for Billy.

Look at our cute little butts heading for the door.

Pugs – Chicken Soup for the Sick

Have you ever noticed, dear reader, that when you are feeling sick enough to take a day off from work, your pug(s) is always ready, willing, and able to assist in your recovery? Pugs have an innate sense of when you are not your usual healthy energetic selves. Being highly adaptable and sensitive creatures, we quickly don our Clara Barton hats, assume the position (either in bed or on the couch), and tuck in for a day of intense cuddling and napping, with never a thought for our own needs or wants. We are truly unselfish and giving in this regard.

 We know instinctively what you need during the acute phase of your illness and happily gird our little loins for the task. We can’t bring you tea, toast, or meds, but we can offer our warm furry bodies as a source of healing and comfort. Who says pugs are not working dogs? We are prepared to go the distance too; if you are still weak and need another day of recuperation, we are right there to help you in this endeavor.

 Pugs are not just pretty faces…we are skilled caregivers. We don’t mind that you haven’t bathed, combed your hair, or even cleaned your teeth for several days (we actually prefer you that way). In fact, we encourage you to take as much time as you need for a full recovery.

 Here’s another secret: we really love it when you are sick.

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

Here we are...eagerly poised to help Mom in her recovery.

I am keeping a vigilant eye on Mom from the top of the chair.

 

 

 

You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello or A Pug’s Request For Honesty

How many of you are guilty of the following: you’re getting ready to leave the house for an appointment, errands, work, or holiday, and out of guilt, you go through a much too lengthy process of saying goodbye to your precious pug(s)? Whether to expiate or soothe your troubled conscience, you promise, in a voice tinged with concern, to bring Snookums a cookie, treat, or take him on an extra long walk. At this point, even the slowest pug gets that you are running some jive by him, and he reacts in a way designed to prolong your leave taking even more.

Let me make a suggestion, dear reader, think less of yourself and more of the about to be deserted pug. Make the adieu brief, firm, but with the promise (and actual delivery) of a treat upon your return. Your guilt makes us nervous and unsettled. We can only imagine the worst…Am I going to be neutered again? Are my parents leaving me for a better pug? Are they never going to return? Is there no more food? You can see how an elaborate leave taking might torture our little minds while you’re away, particularly when your words are peppered with concern and your face with anxiety.

Another thing you need to understand is that we have no concept of time. Your saying how long you will be gone is unnecessary. Five minutes, an hour, or a day…they are all the same to us. Just return with a treat and all is forgiven. So, sometimes the kindest goodbye is the briefest.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

 

This is the face of a pug (a beautiful one) waiting. Kind of gets to you, doesn't it?

Pugs Sniffing Butts – The Smart Choice

I feel compelled to address a subject near and dear to the heart of every pug (and every other breed of dog, I wager) and that is the act of sniffing another dog’s butt. I am truly sorry, dear reader, if I am offending any of you by broaching this subject, but it is one of our most basic functions.

 You humans look at facial expressions, smiles, teeth, figure, hair, eyes, and practically every other human feature, and then listen to voice intonation, accent, and volume in order to form an opinion about a person. You decide if he/she is friendly, attractive, interesting, smart, nasty, or unappealing – the entire gamut of assessments – and finally, you shake hands. We of the canine species, however, sniff one another’s butts. You would be amazed and shocked by how much we discover in that sniff…an entire personality DNA lies within that tiny orifice! We know in an instant if this is a potential buddy, love interest, enemy, or threat. And guess what else? We are never wrong.

 More often than not, you humans form the wrong first impressions and waste a lot of time by doing the visual or auditory scan. Instead, if you would just take a few seconds to sniff his/her butt, your impressions would be point on.

 Take it from your pug spokesman, butt sniffing is not something to be eschewed, but rather, embraced. We’ve been doing this since the dawn of time, and it eliminates most of the guesswork when choosing friends.

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

This shot speaks for itself. Note the baseball shirts we're all wearing. I think this is great advertising for the Cotuit Kettleers baseball team.

 

The Case of the Purloined Pug

Apologies to Edgar Allan Poe for the adaptation of his famous title, but it is so fitting for today’s revelation. I know that many of you fear I have too jaundiced a view of life, and more specifically, of love. In order to dispel that notion, dear reader, I have decided to reveal the most intimate and guarded emotional experience of my life.

If you recall, I made reference in my earliest writing to my mom being the alpha and omega, next to food, of my life. For most of you, this probably went flying past your cognitive processing center, and so I am refreshing your memory. It is important to the context of what I am about to reveal: that pugs do feel love —  intensely and passionately. There, I’ve said it and I’m not ashamed! I haven’t felt that emotion for another pug (as you humans tend to fantasize) but I surely did the first time I laid eyes on my mom.

I mentioned that she is a knockout, but that had nothing to do with the kismet like quality of our introduction. When she came to meet me at the breeder’s, our initial contact was cataclysmic…the earth literally moved for me. The electrical connection between us was instantaneous, and nothing could have kept me from bounding into her outstretched arms. Yes, she stole my heart and my soul, dear reader.

For those of you who doubt that such depth of emotion can exist for a pug, well then, just look deeply into your own pug’s eyes and see what he or she is trying to tell you every day.What my mom and I share “let no man tear asunder.” Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom. You had me at “Hello, Mason.”

 

Respectfully submitted,

 

Mason

 

While this isn't a great shot of yours truly, it does show a romantic wedding and my loving devotion to the bride.

The Myth of Valentine’s Day, or What’s Love Got to Do With It?

You know the gene pool is mighty shallow when all a pug can come up with to write about is Valentine’s Day and what she is grateful for! I apologize to you, dear reader, for having to read Lizzie’s pitiful pap. A lot of you will chastise me for being so harsh, and yes, she is well intended but is so lacking in substance. She did, however, spawn some introspective thinking for me when she made reference to the holiday you humans seem to adore…Valentine’s Day. Now for a pug, it is the same as any other day of the year and we attach no significance to its interpretation. I hate to be a “bah, humbug” kind of pug, but I cannot lie.

 In light of Facebook’s recent debut of “25 things you might not know about me” here is a little newsflash about yours truly…I am a father. Many of you may let escape a little “Oooooh, how sweet” or “I bet he’s a really good dad.” Neither of these observations applies. See, in my realm, being a father is strictly a biological function. Quite frankly I don’t even remember being consulted, and furthermore I didn’t even know the bitch (I am speaking strictly in canine terminology, folks). There were no hearts and flowers, no wooing, and no life promises in this relationship. I will spare my more sensitive readers the details, but suffice it to say I was not an active participant!

 After the birth of my progeny, I was relieved of any future siring possibilities by the dreaded neutering procedure. I can honestly state that I suffered no ill effects, aside from being incredibly drowsy for a day. And yes, my pups were quite beautiful even though I only saw photos of them (which I’ve attached). So for a male pug, there isn’t a lot of fathering or romance in our lives.  Lizzie, however, attributes love to everything and maybe it is different for pugs that mother a litter (as she did). She is a sentimental fool, though, and sometimes I have to turn a deaf ear to her drivel.

There you have it…a pug’s take on Valentine’s Day. And, for those of you who may be concerned about overpopulating the pug world, I am a champion and was therefore obligated to reproduce at least once.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. Today is my 8th birthday…no big deal but I’m just putting it out there..

 

Pretty cute little fellow, isn't he?

Two more beauties...I think my genes speak for themselves!

 

 

 

 

 

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

Hi Everyone!

Mason is pooped today so he has let me do a little dictating. When I last wrote, I had been a very naughty girl and was feeling guilty. I am happy to say that those days seem behind me now. I have tried really hard to avoid the garbage area of the kitchen(but I’m not always successful) and I have made every effort to ummmm, relieve myself outdoors. So, you’re probably wondering why I am writing this. The answer is pretty simple. I am grateful for so many things but right now I’m sooooooo happy that I can live in this cozy apartment with my mom and dad, and most especially, Mason. Also, Valentine’s Day is on Saturday and I am filled with love!

Sometimes Mason can be a bit grumpy and mean, but I know that deep down he really loves me. He doesn’t like to show it but he does in little ways, like he doesn’t run away every time I try to cuddle up to him, he lets me burrow deep under the covers up against Mom without pushing me out of bed, and he doesn’t stand over me when I eat, waiting for me to miss a crumb. That has to be love, doesn’t it?

On these freezing cold mornings I don’t even want to open my eyes, let alone get up, then put on a sweater and boots, and head to the elevator for our freezing morning walk. I do it though, because I am so grateful for all that I’ve been given. Also, I hope Mom and Dad know how much I love it when they rub my belly and cuddle with me.

I don’t have plans or ambition like Mason; I am just happy to be along for the ride. When Mom and Dad tell me they love me, well, I am the happiest pug in the world. Happy Valentine’s Day to everyone, but most especially to my wonderful family.

Love, pugs, and kisses,

Lizzie

P.S. I am sure Mason will have something to say about this entry.

 

Oh gosh, I didn't even know this was taken! Here I am napping on Grandpa's side, as he naps. He has a red shirt on so I thought of Valentine's Day...oxox

For a Pug, Enough is Never Enough, or Take it to The Limit One More Time

How many of you pug owners/managers/companions have made a startling discovery about your pug, regarding his/her seemingly infinite capacity for the consumption of food? We are, by our very nature, voracious and compulsive eaters of anything that resembles food or food byproducts. I know that many of you, and you know to whom I speak, would like to believe that your  adorable little puggly wuggly will know when to apply the proverbial food brakes to an eating frenzy. I am here to dispel that notion forever! FACT: We will eat until we explode. This is true, dear reader.

 Which brings me to the difficult piece of this warning, difficult because it goes against all that I hold near and dear to myself. I feel as if I am betraying my breed by issuing this warning, but “Cutums Sweetums” needs Mom or Dad (or both) to be the voice of reason when it comes to meting out food and treats. And be prepared because your little bugged-eyed angel will fix you with the most intense, pleading, laser-like stare, after devouring an entire bag of baby carrots.  You will be tempted to say to yourself “just one more won’t hurt.” That one more can be the straw that breaks the pug’s back!

 We are so endearing, so convincing, and so relentless in our pursuit of even a crumb of food, that you parents must remain strong in the face of our puggy wiles. I  personally have witnessed a trained medical professional fold like a two-dollar suitcase, just from feeding me a liver treat after a particularly invasive medical procedure. This veterinarian then got down on the floor and tossed one treat after another down my gaping maw, saying how much fun it was watching me catch treats midair.(I have to give Grandma credit for teaching me this highly effective trick.)

 So yes, we are adorable and we know how much you love us…just don’t love us to death. You must offer us tough love, but understand we will not thank you.

 

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

 

Not a particularly interesting shot, but you can see I am eating from a proper feeding station.

Here is Lizzard tucking into her chow. Note too her feeding station is correctly elevated.

 

A Little Privacy for A Pug, If You Please

 

I’ve given this particular entry a good deal of thought because I am a pug of considerable sensitivity, and one who is mindful of his readers’ sensitivities. Let me be perfectly clear at the onset that my only intention is to heighten your awareness of something you probably have never considered, and not to chastise you in any way, dear reader.

Because I am a pug, it has come to my attention over the years that one of the most basic of bodily functions is universally treated by dog owners in a fairly cavalier and disrespectful manner. I realize that having to relieve oneself on the street, gutter, lawn, beach, or any other such public venue precludes privacy or modesty. I am, however, eager to point out that, even with these constraints, a pug still appreciates its owner or walker averting his gaze during the process.

I am not a particularly fastidious or private creature, but I do have standards. I cannot help but recoil in horror when I see a poor, tricked-out, little poodle straining at the curb, with its owner barking  “COME ON, MUFFIN, MAKE FOR MOMMY!” or “BITSY, MAKE A CA-CA LIKE A BIG GIRL!” I’m sorry, dear reader, but this kind of spirited encouragement is degrading and humiliating for all dogs, both large and small.

Perhaps the next time you see your beleaguered little dog, pleading with sad and embarrassed eyes as he relieves himself,  you’ll have the sensitivity to look away. Having said this, you should know that “good job” whispered sotto voce to your pet is acceptable. This always must be followed with a tasty treat.

For those of you whom I may have offended, please forgive me. It was not my intention. On this matter I speak for all pugs, I am sure.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

 

Here you see me in my most compromising position, vulnerable and exposed to the naked eye.

A Pug With A Plan, or Saving Bones For My Future

Two summers ago my grandma purchased marrowbones from the butcher for me to chew on in her back yard. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with these particular hunks of goodness, they are large round beef bones with marrow filled centers. Because of their size, they are quite safe for pugs to chew on, plus they don’t splinter. Grandma knew they would keep me happily occupied outdoors for some time, which meant I wasn’t inside, clinging to her ankles like a land shark, waiting for just a crumb  to come my way. Being a clever pug, as I’ve mentioned before, I quickly figured out that if I seemingly ate them quickly, another would soon arrive. As all pug owners know, we are not, as a breed, blessed with spectacular canine style teeth. Ours are more the gnarly, widely spaced, stumpy type of chompers. We also tend to lose them easily and early in life. So, it should be clear to most anyone that I couldn’t possibly eat these beastie bones in such short order. No, yours truly would chew for only the time it took to suck out the marrow, then slip into the woods, deposit the bone in the leaves and brush, and return to the back door whining pitifully.

 I like to think of myself as a forward thinking pug. I am always looking ahead, planning for my future (unlike many of my shortsighted brethren). Grandma is sharp but she really never figured out this little trick, and so, by the end of that summer my grandparents’  woods was a veritable minefield of marrowbones!

 What incredible pleasure it was returning this past summer and introducing Lizzie to the exquisite taste of aged and decayed bones. It was our treasure hunt every day! On hot days these treats took on a more piquant  taste, even though it was slightly off-putting having to compete with the ants that crawled over them.

 Planning ahead gives this pug a decided advantage over other dogs. Since I couldn’t possibly discover every hidden bone from the previous year, who knows what treasures this summer will yield?

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

Alright, I know you were hoping for some photo showing me either chewing or burying a bone. Well, get over it! Just look at how beautiful Lizzard and I were last summer.