Monthly Archives: May 2009

Mistakes Were Made, or I’ll Take A Pug Latte, Please

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.

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

I had to show you this even though it has nothing to do with the incident. Lizzie sleeping on the Sunday New York Times...what an inspiring pug!

I had to show you this even though it has nothing to do with the incident. Lizzie sleeping on the Sunday New York Times...what an inspiring pug!

 

I think the contrast is fairly obvious. You will never catch me sleeping on the NY Times!

I think the contrast is fairly obvious. You will never catch me sleeping on the NY Times!

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Real Men Love Pugs

Before I launch into today’s thoughts, I must first thank all of you loyal readers for casting votes in the Blognet contest. I am happy to report that  “A Pug’s Voice” won First Runner Up for all categories of blogs. Now I am not really sure what happens next but I will keep you posted. I would also like to congratulate my California pug friends, Roxy, Blue, and Bono for placing third in the Valentino contest. I must admit that they look fierce in their photo. Check them out at: http://www.pupstarsonoma.com/

 I want to assure you, dear reader, that Lizzard and I are not going to rest on our proverbial laurels. I will continue to speak freely, intelligently, and frequently about matters of concern to a pug and from a pug’s perspective. This weekend actually proved the above adaptation of the old adage, “Real men don’t eat quiche.” How wrong it is to make assumptions about the appropriateness of certain breeds of dogs for either men or women. Why do people presume that toy poodles are for women and Labradors for men? We pugs have been assigned the female gender for centuries (not that I object to women, mind you), but we are also a man’s breed. I have seen proof of this repeatedly in my lifetime. This weekend was a perfect example. A very large, muscular, no-nonsense, tattooed, man’s man friend of my parents (Matt) visited our apartment on Saturday. To witness this oak of a human dissolve into a pool of emotion over the sight of Lizzard and me was truly revelatory. He scooped me up into muscle-bound arm guns and held me while reading my book, SUMMER PUGS, aloud. I am first and foremost a male pug and I am not interested in gushing, swooning, simpering, baby talk (unless there is a treat involved), but to connect with such a man is a privilege. Lizzard, on the other hand is a silly little girl pug that prefers all that I loathe, and so I won’t digress into her needs or likes.

  It must be  clear that we pugs are not gender specific; we are multi-sexual! If the inner brute in you men needs full expression, then perhaps a pug is a wise choice. We are tough, resilient, companionable, brave, eager, and keen. Don’t ever judge a book by its cover (except for ours) or its size. There you have it, more deep thoughts from a pug named Mason.

 

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

Here I am hanging with some big guys...standard poodles. You wouldn't call those sissy dogs, now would you?

Here I am hanging with some big guys...standard poodles. You wouldn't call those sissy dogs, now would you?

 

I really would have liked a photo of Matt holding me but I was too embarrassed to ask, so I think this shows my butch stature for you men who are insecure about liking a pug.

I really would have liked a photo of Matt holding me but I was too embarrassed to ask, so I included this photo since I think it shows my butch stature for you men who are insecure about liking a pug.

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