Pug Noir or The Black Pug of the Family

What a weekend of gastronomic indulgence and relentless attention! I, for one, am ready to tuck into my stinky red bed for some serious napping and quiet reverie; the breakneck pace of our travels overwhelmed Lizzie and me. We spent Wednesday and Thursday at Grandma and Grandpa’s on the Cape, left Friday for Vermont, where we spent Friday night and Saturday, and left for New York on Sunday morning.

I realize, however, that most of you are more interested in reading a report about the meeting with our new cousin, Cecily, than having me regale you with tales of ort consumption. While I have absolutely no interest in the acquisition of yet another pug, this one isn’t terrible…and by that I mean, she has no obvious or overt mannerisms that would put me off my food or cause me to react in a violent sort of way. She seemed welcoming (maybe even genuinely glad to see us) and appropriately deferential to yours truly. As long as I am accorded the respect I rightfully deserve, then I have no reason to complain. Lizzie, of course, acted the perfect idiot with a lot of wiggling, wagging, and sniffing. They seemed to connect on some primal kind of “I’ve experienced birth and know the pain”  female way, which personally, I find offensive. I also should mention, though it is of little consequence, that she is not unattractive. At any rate the three of us enjoyed walking on the beach and curling up on the couch for napping, so I would say that life was pretty much the same for me. I did note that by the time we left, Miss Cecily was developing a fairly strong fondness for me, not that I didn’t blame her. It certainly shows she has taste and the ability to recognize class and intelligence. So, as long as she remains deferential and obsequious, I will tolerate her presence in our family.

It remains to be seen how successful the next new acquisition will be.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

For all of you girly girls, a portrait of Lizzie and Cecily. Lizzie says they're sister friends or some such mawkish drivel.

Here we are...three pugs on a Thanksgiving day beach walk.

Here Miss C. is in hot pursuit of yours truly.

I must admit, she has a pretty tight figure for having had two litters.

I apologize for this gratuitous “emo” shot, but I know how emotional you readers can be. From now on, the blog is about me!

I’m So Excited that I Just Can’t Hide It!

 

Hi Everyone…

I had to write Mason’s blog today because he is so cranky and out of sorts with everyone. I am sure it will pass, but you know how he hates change of any kind (unless it is a new food being added to his diet!), and Grandma and Grandpa’s new pug, Cecily, has really put him in a funk. I, however, am beside myself with excitement and cannot wait to meet my new sister friend. I know from Mom that she is a beautiful black pug who has had two litters of puppies and that she was shown a few times. She sounds so sweet and fun that I can hardly wait. I feel sad for her because she has always lived with lots of pugs and has never been the only dog until now. I think Mason and I need to welcome her into our family but Mason is being a brat about it. You know how he was (and still is sometimes) about my coming into his life. He is not a typical pug who likes lots of friends around, sharing his space and playing with him. He can be a real pill about that and just last week he went for me when I was licking Mom’s hand while we were sitting on the couch. He tolerates me up to a point and then he just can’t seem to control himself. I think he needs anger management.

I am really anxious to meet this new pug and I already think we are going to be great friends. Mason just mutters to himself about her. “She’s probably as stupid as Lizzie, She’s probably going to steal all of my food, She’s probably going to sniff my butt and then want to cuddle with me, She probably thinks she’s the boss of Grandma and Grandpa, She’s probably found all of my old hiding places in the woods.” He can go on for hours this way until I want to bite him! Well, I wouldn’t bite him but sometimes I really want to.

So, Cecily, welcome to our family! I will be your friend even if Mason doesn’t want to right away. Be patient and you’ll see…he’ll come around. His bark is much fiercer than his bite. See you Wednesday night!

 

Your loving sister/cousin/friend,

Lizzie

Here she is in Grandma's office. I love her already!

Look at how sweet she is! Grandma says she has to learn how to photograph black since it is harder than fawn.

A World Turned Upside Down, or One Pug Too Many

Since Mom, Grandma and Grandpa have been in New Mexico for five days, I’ve had no means of communication, forcing me to live with my thoughts, chief of which concern the coming of Daphne in December. I’m sure that most of you by now are aware of Grandma and Grandpa’s acquisition of the French bulldog puppy and I’m also sure that most of you think she is adorable (which is highly debatable). This is truly a bitter pill for yours truly to swallow. I am at that venerable age when all one wishes for is peace, loving attention, and plenty of food and treats. Please note that none of these wishes includes a squirming, biting, yipping, demanding puppy! So that even as I am trying to wrap my mind around this new intrusion and trying to form a more charitable, tolerant attitude, Mom announces that there will be yet another addition to this menagerie.

Yes, dear reader, that is correct. Grandma and Grandpa are not content with upsetting one proverbial apple cart, but now two! Please forgive the overuse of exclamation marks, which I loathe, but you must fully appreciate my anger, shock, and horror at this news. Now there is coming into my extended family a black female pug. She is four years old and to hear Mom speak of her is to hear of the second coming. Grandma and Grandpa go to meet her Saturday, and if the breeder agrees, she will be returning with them.  I am sick, sick, sick and there is no cure. Lizzie and I were very clear with Mom when she shared her “exciting news” with us, telling her in no uncertain terms that this would not work. We cannot begin to understand why Grandma and Grandpa would ever want more than us. Between the two of us, Lizzie and I are able to provide all of the pug energy and personality any person could desire. I just don’t get it.

Yes, this may be the advent of the holiday season for humans, but for two pugs in Manhattan, it feels more like doomsday.

Respectfully and dejectedly submitted,

Mason

I don't know about you, but she looks fierce to me.

Here she is being groomed at her home. Why is she smiling? I'm certainly not!

The Week in Review, or Through A Pug Darkly

I must clarify a few things misspoken by our Miss Lizzie in her latest blog posting, which is to what my tweaked biblical quotation refers. I’m afraid Lizzie’s view of the world and its events is somewhat inaccurate. She has been on some rampant ego trip lately that has me completely flummoxed. So, dear reader, while you may find her sweet, simple expression charming and disarming, she is a pug with a highly inflated sense of self worth.

She does not overpower me, but rather she is sneaky, underhanded, and very manipulative. There is a word for it but I risk the wrath of all of my female readers if I dare utter it.

I’d like to move on to a topic of greater interest to me, and that is my mom’s birthday yesterday. The weeks leading up to this event every year are torture for all of us, and by that I mean Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, Lizzie and me. She does this uniquely human thing that I find wholly self-indulgent. By attaching so much importance to the actual age achieved, rather than the success and happiness attendant upon it, she spirals down into this abyss of depression, tears, and angry outbursts. I have learned, and Lizzie is starting to learn, but her learning curve is so slow, that it is in our best collective interest to keep a low profile and only cuddle when she gives a positive signal. This year was no exception…the crying jags, the snappish temper flare-ups, and the withdrawal into a fetal position all began a good month before the actual date. Now I think most of you know how much we love our mom and how much she means to us so that the approach of this black cloud is just something we must endure. After the birthday, the very next day, the sun starts peeking through again. Mom, we love you so much. You are so beautiful in every way, but we’d like to see you move beyond this emotional train wreck.

I have to update you on the status of Grandma and Grandpa’s acquisition of a dog. This is a bitter pill for yours truly to swallow, but I am a pug who deals only with reality…no sugar coating for me. Her name is Daphne, as I mentioned, and they will be picking her up on December 5^th.  This will be a sad day for me, but I’ve lived through other challenges and this is no different. I will face it with equanimity and grace. Lizzie, of course, is doing her “happy girl” dance because she feels there will be a natural connection between her and this baby French bulldog. Lizzie is a fool and always will be. It is a somewhat frightening thought though, but I can’t imagine any dog so stupid as to align herself with Lizzie.

And there you have it, folks: my news from the city that never sleeps. I, however, am ready for a much-deserved nap.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here she is, in my mom's arms. I call her Bat Girl. I know Mom was an emotional puddle the day they went to meet her.

This is what a dog should look like. Lizzie and I were trying to be brave in the face of adversity.

 

What’s Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander, or You’ve Taught Me Well, Mason

Oh my, it is so weird being back in NY and living our NY life, but change is not so difficult for me. I think Mason has a harder time adjusting to a new schedule, rules, and environment. As long as I have a cozy spot on the couch or bed, tasty food, walkies, and cuddling time with Mom or Dad, I am fine. I think because Mom feels so bad about taking us away from the Cape she may have overdone the treats. What I mean is she gave us too many marrowbones and pizzles. Mason will kill me when he reads this!

Mom supplied us with the juiciest marrowbones and biggest pizzles ever last week, and Mason did what he always does…steal and hoard. I mean really, Mason, there were enough treats for an entire kennel of dogs! Because I am becoming smarter and stronger, I decided to take what I’ve learned from him and then apply it to the situation. So, when he wasn’t looking I took every marrowbone and pizzle, hauled them into my bed, and then crawled in with them. Mason came back into the room, looking all over for the treats, and then saw me chewing on one in my bed, surrounded by the entire lot of them. He came toward me as if to grab one and I let loose with the most threatening barking and growling I could muster up. Mom came running in to scold Mason and then froze in her tracks when she saw I was the one holding Mason at bay. I watched Mason look at her for help and then I felt bad, like I always do. He really is clueless…he just doesn’t get that a girl like me can be so fierce and aggressive. But guess what, he did back off and leave me alone.

The story doesn’t end here though. Yesterday, after Grandma left, Mom hauled out the most beautiful marrowbones ever, giving one to me and one to Mason. Because I really wasn’t interested in chewing at that time, I stayed curled up on the couch where I had a pretty good view of everything going on the room. Mason, thinking I was asleep and that Mom and Dad were busy doing something else, took his bone over to his bed and buried it under the pad. He even patted it down so it didn’t show so much and then, without a moment’s hesitation, he hopped into my bed and began chewing on my bone. Isn’t he the trickiest pug you’ve ever known? I giggled to myself because he thinks he is the master of his domain, but I saw the whole thing.

I guess you could say our days, even though we’re alone a lot, are never dull.

Love,

Lizzie

Grandma took this photo Sunday morning at Tompkins Sq. Park. This is what Mason is sometimes. Hahahaha.

I feel so bad about the last picture I had to include this one of us by a flower stall.

Two’s Company and Three’s a Crowd, or There’s Only So Much a Pug Can Take

Believe it or not, dear reader, I am not a pug who asks much of life.  I also consider myself to be fairly tolerant and accommodating. I alluded to there being too much excitement in my apartment lately and that is the topic to which I turn today.

I know Grandma is coming tomorrow, but not to see Lizzie and me. You are probably asking, “Why not?” and the answer is diabolically simple. She and my mom are traveling to Pennsylvania to “just look at” a French bulldog puppy. I, for one, am feeling a huge range of emotions…shock, confusion, betrayal, and outrage. The puppy is not for us, but for Grandma. I cannot understand why she would want to tamper with what is a fine and somewhat equitable arrangement. I mean, really, what is to be gained by such foolhardy and wanton behavior? Look at how I’ve struggled with the inclusion of one simple-minded, weak-willed, nincompoop of a pug (read “Lizzie”) into our family. And at Grandma’s I’ve had to endure the crack-addict antics of an adolescent female cat (read, Zoe) and her arrogant, dismissive consort (read, Oliver). I’ve dealt with all of these inequities with grace, dignity, and patience…but this is a low blow to yours truly. Forgive me, dear reader, but the last thing Grandma and Grandpa need is a peeing, pooping, puking little puppy!

Mom says that Grandma and Grandpa love us so much that they are having a hard time dealing with the yearly separation…that they need a full-time dog of their own. That they will always love us first and that we will still be there for our summers, and that blah blah blah. Does any of this sound familiar, folks? I make no apologies for my resentment. It is just another nail in my proverbial coffin.

I will keep you updated, rest assured.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Pug: $2,000, Vet Bills: $10,000, Pug Food: $5,000, Cost of Living in NYC: Astronomical, Mom and Dad’s Love: Priceless.

After a week’s hiatus I am ready to resume my musings for you, dear reader. Re-entry into the hustle and bustle of Manhattan takes some adjustment for yours truly. Getting back my city streets mojo is a far cry from living our pastoral type of existence on Cape Cod, but I’m feeling my old self again and ready to rant, rave, and whine.

Of course the real bonus in this is being wrapped nightly in my Mom’s arms and then knowing that when I awaken in the morning she will still be pressed against me, no matter how many moves I make during the night. That feeling of security is beyond compare…well, maybe a nice juicy marrowbone comes close, but no, not really. I am able to survive our long days alone in the apartment because I know my mom will be home in the evening, ready to reclaim our emotional connection.

This weekend was spectacular because we had long outings to Tompkins Square Park, cuddles on the couch, and a primo bull pizzle, which Lizzie and I consumed on our terrace. Life is good for us, I must confess. The only issue I currently have is the lack of comestibles in our NY home. At Grandma’s there was always a steady, flavorful, and diverse supply of treats. Grandma was mindful of fulfilling our palate’s constant jonesing for an amuse-bouche. I do miss those daily samplings and the heavenly aromas emanating from Granny’s big kitchen.

In the grander scheme, I am quite content and have been reminded this week of the old Simon and Garfunkel song lyrics:

Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Mom, your little man is happy to be home again.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Just couldn't resist including this shot since it shows me at my finest...working on a lobster claw. Happy times!