Now is the Winter of Our Discontent, or A Pug’s Countdown to Spring

When the apartment door closed behind Mom and Dad this morning, it rang as our vacation’s death knell. That click of the lock resounded loudly and with the finality of a tomb sealing. As you know, dear reader, I am a pug that likes to know that his creature comforts are always close at hand and not a struggle to obtain. This frigid and unrelenting cold has soured my usual sunny disposition, turning me into a needy, whiny, and short-tempered beast. Going outdoors for our toileting requires the outfitting of an artic expedition. First the blasted paw condoms must be fitted over eight resistant paws, then the dreaded sweaters and hoodies pulled and stretched over our heads and bodies, and finally the harnesses and leashes attached on top of the sweaters. By the time Dad gets into his gear, we are exhausted and struggling to hold our water and waste. This is not, I repeat, not the most wonderful time of the year for those of us living in the northeast.

Lizzie and I must find new ways to amuse ourselves and pass these miserable days. We’ve fully explored trash tossing and my penchant for chewing underwear and socks is only a memory of my youth. I’ve told Lizzie all of my embellished tales of glory and horror. Besides, she is hardly a worthy recipient of my intellectual prowess since all she wants to do is cuddle and sleep. So then the question remains, “What is a pug to do?” I am a bit concerned about the upcoming summer on Cape Cod, due to the addition of Grandma and Grandpa’s two dogs. The black pug is a formidable opponent. Like Lizzie she appears docile and meek, but if she senses any affront or attack upon her baby (the Frenchie) then she quickly becomes a snarling, howling killing machine. She caught me off guard several times when I went after Daphne for encroaching upon my food zone. That worries me a bit. The baby is a full blown, spoiled, active and willful toddler. She needs to be taught respect, manners, and boundaries before I can enjoy my idyllic existence there. I guess I need to give some considerable thought to this summer while I am ensconced in my overheated and quiet apartment.

The dog walker is due any minute so I must gird my loins for the donning of apparel, none of which is gay.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Lizzie and I doing what we love doing most...keeping warm on Mom's lap

The fiendish Cecily...looks sweet, doesn't she? But, at the slightest provocation, she becomes a tiger protecting her cub.

And the toddler, gnawing away on a marrowbone that should have been mine. She is an underaged lethal weapon.

Lizzie...the most indolent of all creatures living on the planet. What a ridiculous canine experiment she is. I am surrounded by too many bitches!