It is has a very dry spell for me, dear reader, since Grandma was called to San Diego on an emergency for two weeks. She is my transcriber and without her, I have no voice. So, no worries…I am back with words unwritten and thoughts unspoken.
In the spring a young (or more mature) pug’s fancy lightly turns to digging in the earth. I do apologize for the brutal paraphrasing of Tennyson’s “Locksley Hall” but spring is finally in the air for us poor northeastern beasts. Mom took Lizzie and me to the park on the East River this Saturday and we certainly took time to smell the flowers…not only to smell them but also to dig them up! Lizzie and I could not stop digging and flinging dirt with wild abandon. What a glorious time for us. I know Mom was beside herself since she has no idea what would cause a normally decorous and dignified adult male pug to give in to the most primal animal urge. Digging releases all kinds of pent up winter emotions, allowing us pugs to connect with our inner dog. No, we aren’t looking for bones, garbage, or dead rodents…just inhaling Mother Nature’s bounty. We love dirt, we love its smell as it awakens in the spring, we love throwing it about, and we, literally, just dig it. There is no deep, meaningful purpose associated with this activity. We are just pugs experiencing our version of spring fever.
So, with the coming of spring I know that moving to the Cape for the summer cannot be far behind. Oh happy day!