Alas and alack, I fear yesterday did not begin auspiciously for yours truly and his consort, Lightweight Lizzie. There was nothing unusual about the morning, except that Dad decided to chill the coffee after it brewed. As most of you probably know, a glass pitcher may not be the wisest choice of container for scalding hot coffee. To add to this unwise decision, he then placed it in the refrigerator. Now you must understand that mornings at our house are pretty hectic; what with walking Lizzard and me, then feeding and medicating us, showering, dressing, making coffee and lunch, and racing to the subway, it is pretty much a foregone conclusion that mistakes will be made.
After the feeding, we like to hang about in the kitchen, waiting for the possible crumb, accident, or treat. Lizzie was standing quite close to Dad’s leg when tragedy struck. I, however, in my infinite wisdom, had the good sense to stand back from the immediate scene, affording me a better vantage point for assessing everyone’s activity. Knowing I have the reflexes of a wild cat and can move in swiftly when speed is necessary, allowed me a degree of comfort and confidence. You have to wonder about the random nature of the universe when something unexpected, like what happened next, occurs. Mom opened the refrigerator door, noticed coffee leaking, I observed that Lizzie had moved too close to Mom for my liking and I assumed she was being offered a treat. Mom picked up the pitcher, whose bottom immediately fell away onto the floor, spilling copious amounts of lukewarm coffee all over Lizzie, as I lunged for her throat in an attempt to wrest from her the treat I imagined she had scored. Only Brueghel could have painted a more disturbing scene!
It was late, my parents had to dash, and I saw poor miserable Lizzie receive a hasty toweling. I am afraid she was forced to spend the rest of the day drenched in caffeine. What a pity it hadn’t been hot fudge sauce, gravy, or raw eggs. I have no interest in coffee so I couldn’t even lick her. Oh, and there is also the piece about my going for her. No, there was no treat; she was just an unsuspecting victim of a morning disaster. I did feel sorry for her but truly she does go into this bizarre zone where she loses all sense of time or place.
Well, dear reader, you can see the paucity of excitement in our pug lives since I must resort to reporting such a morning.