I apologize to William Shakespeare for use of his line as my title, but I love that he wrote “orts.” I’m not sure that the passage is germane to this entry since it has such a negative connotation, but I’m using it anyway. You’ve heard the expression, “One man’s trash is another’s treasure.” That pretty much sums up the pug life. We adore whatever food you discard, with the exception of coffee grounds and tea bags (Lizzie, however, might explore them but not consume them). What is it that makes us such connoisseurs of your ort? An aficionado of your refuse?
We are dogs, first and foremost, and our noses are much keener than yours. We smell top notes, low notes, and all of the notes in between. We are so much more tolerant than humans in our olfactory center. What disgusts and repulses you, stimulates and entices us because we are able to experience the entire range of smell potential. We haven’t learned that offal is bad and steamed lobster is good. They are one and the same to us.
Cleaning our nether regions falls into the same category of experience. Have you ever noticed a beautifully groomed and coiffed lady kissing her little Muffin on the lips, just after Muffin has dutifully cleaned himself? Why doesn’t the lady recoil in horror for what she has just done? Humans are so strange in that they rarely see the connection between what they love and hate.
Pugs are so basic, dear reader, in that we will smell anything and everything, without any preconceived notions, while you will refuse to smell something you’ve already deemed unacceptable. I say don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. We are much more open-minded, aren’t we?
More deep thoughts from a ruminating pug…
One response to “Let Him Have Time a Beggar’s Orts to Crave — Shakespeare”
Actually, it’s Chloe here, Mason, and I had to write because I totally agree with your observation…we pugs LOVE to sniff anything and everything. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I happen to be the best of all my sisters in this talent! My favorite day is garbage day, when Mommy or Daddy collects the trash bag in the kitchen and carts it down into the garage. I follow it with my nose pressed up against it, sniffing at point-blank range all it’s wonderful smells. They seem to delight in all my little “pig snorting sounds” (as they call them), but I don’t seem to notice much since I’m so entranced by all the delicious aromas coming from the bag. Oh, if every day were garbage day…
Thank you for speaking out on one of my favorite topics, dear Mason.