Just when I thought my life was at a standstill, I win the lottery! Well, not literally, but for a highly motivated pug that is fully committed to the acquisition of food, there is nothing more momentous or thrilling than learning that Mom and Dad are hosting a dinner party. It is the Holy Grail, the brass ring, and the penultimate of events for such a pug. Now, the down side of this news is the acute realization that in order to achieve that goal, a pug must be willing to work hard at his craft. A lukewarm approach will garner no reward. A clever pug knows that he must expend an inordinate amount of energy wagging his curled up stump of a tail, cocking his head coquettishly, standing posed and poised, and sending out the subliminal message of “Aren’t I adorable, don’t you want to feed me something from your plate, you know you can’t resist me, and just look at how grateful I am.” This is exhausting and time-consuming, folks, but yours truly is a veteran of this campaign.
Guests arrived at 4:30 and there I was, at the door giving out the best pug vibe I could muster. I did not go off duty until about 11:00, and then only because I couldn’t stand up any longer. I am both embarrassed and gladdened by the fact that goofy old Lizzie has no interest in this opportunity…embarrassed since she calls herself a pug and gladdened because it gave me such a huge field in which to work my game.
The best parties involve a serious amount of liquor, so that with any luck the event should take on a bacchanalian quality. Guests who imbibe are, as the evening progresses, usually loose and generous with bits of foods. Also, they become sloppy, dropping food carelessly. That is when I become a superstar in this production. Since this was a terrace party, I was able to move freely and swiftly, so that no crumb was ever left untouched for more than two seconds.
What a wonderful welcome to spring. I am still recuperating, dear reader, but basking in my memories of the first of many warm weather food events.