I don’t know why I am always shocked and amazed when certain events in this life don’t go the way I expected. Just because a pug behaves in a highly consistent and predictable way each and every day of her life, doesn’t mean that she will continue to do so forever. I know this sounds a bit cryptic and obtuse but bear with me on this.
I believe most of you readers know me well enough now to appreciate my mastery of life skills. My ability to procure and consume vast quantities of food/snacks/treats is legend in dogdom. My overwhelming supremacy in the art of control and self-defense needs no explanation. My talent for eluding detection of unaccomplished toileting remains unchallenged by any pug. So then, dear reader, how did one timid, reluctant, passive, spineless, stuffed partridge of a female pug grow such massive, forgive me, cahones, while under my tutelage?
Grandma was preparing a butternut squash soup yesterday and there were many cooking utensils needing our attention after their use. I was given the food processor and Lizzie the large skillet. In record time I completed my assigned task and then ambled over to Lizzard’s cleaning area to assist her, in what I assumed was far too great a job for one pug. Lo and behold, I was greeted with the most ferocious vocal and physical attack ever! WAHHHHAAAAHHHH, as she lunged for me. I don’t know who was more shocked, Grandma, Grandpa, or me. Lizzie was unaffected, hopped back into her skillet, and resumed her licking. My immediate reaction was to go flying across the the kitchen, as far away from this fiend from Hell as I could get. Then I became angry and resentful, and finally awed and somewhat proud. This insignificant, wimpy, and lowly pug had given me back what I’d been giving her for over a year. She now feeds like a greedy pug, begs for treats from Aaron, the UPS driver, and defends her food like a pug-beast should. It is with mixed emotions that I dedicate today’s blog to Lizzie.
And yet again, Mr. Shakespeare says it best.