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,