He Said, She Said, or I Know What I Saw

Mason:  Like I always say, “Don’t judge a book by its cover” or in this case don’t be fooled by an idiotic face, i.e. Lizzie. I always knew there was a dark side hiding beneath her guileless, vapid expression and this morning my suspicions were confirmed. Oh, I know there are groups of you readers who think Lizzie is the greatest thing since sliced bread but I am here to put those false notions to rest. She is a dominatrix of the highest and most sordid order because I know what I saw.

The three bitches (or “witches” as I fondly refer to them) were indulging in their particularly favorite but highly repugnant three-way girl play on an overstuffed chair in the TV room. I find it a ridiculous waste of time and yet, for some reason, Grandma and Grandpa find it delightfully entertaining. This morning, however, the play took on a different hue, so to speak. Daphne, the alpha and very butch Frenchie was being worked over by Cecily (the docile black pug). Daphne occasionally lets Cecily be top dog, just to break up the monotony of this play. Whilst Cecily was straddling Daphne, that cunning little minx Lizzie mounted Cecily and began the universal movement usually reserved for males. Cecily was oblivious, as was Daphne, but not our little Lizzie. She was transported by her efforts until Grandma caught sight of her and called out her name in shock. Lizzie quickly dismounted and slunk away.

Dear reader, I rest my case. Enough said.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Lizzie: Oh that Mason! He has such a suspicious and dirty mind sometimes. Honestly, I wonder what books or TV shows he watches that put these thoughts into his head. He is right about some of what he says. The three of us were playing this morning, which is something we love to do. It is how we bond as females and it is our “girl time.” Daphne, because she is still a puppy but bigger and stronger than Cecily and me, can become very intense when we play and sometimes a little rough. My nature always makes me want to protect Cecily, or at least comfort her. I like to lick her ears and face while Daphne chews on her leg or head. This morning, because Cecily finally had the upper hand with Daphne I just joined in, helping Cecily. Mason sees something icky and I don’t. I was just comforting her and maybe showing a little bit of dominance, but it was not what he thought he saw. You know me…I am not that kind of girl and I am embarrassed by the whole situation. Mason, can we just let it go?

Sincerely,

Lizzie

Mason: This picture tells the entire sordid story. Lizzie: Two innocent girlfriends...that is all!

Master of the Moment and Still Leader of the Pack

I must share a small story with you, dear reader, because it illustrates so well the folly of youth and the wisdom of age, which is not to say that I wouldn’t trade any young whipper-snapper his foolish youth for my venerable old age.

As you loyal readers must remember, Lizzie and I have a long-standing relationship with Aaron, Grandma and Grandpa’s UPS driver: he delivers packages to them and biscuits to us. But now there are two new “young-uns” interfering with what has been a perfectly fine arrangement for these past few years. Aaron said that we have to share two biscuits four ways because the number of dogs on his route has increased wildly and he cannot afford to stock so many treats. While that is perfectly understandable since he covers this expense himself, it does cut into the amount I actually get for myself. I am not a mean-spirited pug, as you know,  but I’ve learned that I must look out for yours truly because no one else has such a vested interest!

My tale is pithy but deep. One recent afternoon, Grandpa took all four of us for a walk (we do present quite a sight) and on our return I needed to relieve myself once more. This occurred on our street, right before we turned into our driveway. Knowing I have the homing instincts of a trained pigeon, Grandpa let me off leash and I promptly trotted up to the front door. As he approached with the three females, he told me the door was locked and to come in back with him. I, however, had already spied the UPS packages on the front stoop and was not going to budge, since I knew there would be two cookies resting on top of them. The silly little girls went obligingly off with Grandpa while I sorted out Aaron’s offering. By the time Grandpa and the girls came into the house and unlocked the front door, I had consumed both cookies and was wagging my tail enthusiastically. The three were none the wiser, not being the seasoned veteran that I am, and just welcomed me in as the long-lost final member of the pack.

I swear to you, biscuits have never tasted quite this good. Lesson: don’t assume that old age equals loss of mental acuity.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

At the helm again, in control, master of my domain!

When Bad Things Happen to Good Pugs, or It Must Have Been Something I Ate

Do not, dear reader, assume from my lengthy absence that I have bought the farm, abandoned you, or taken a prolonged vacation.  The past holiday and a sudden illness prevented me from writing. I am, however, feeling bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning  (bushy tailed obviously is something desirable).

Mom and Dad’s visit was all that an old pug, such as yours truly, could possibly have hoped for. It was filled with cuddling, snacking, talking, and napping. We had a lobster feast, a rib feast, many nights of clams and steamers, road trips, and quiet time together. I suffered during the day and evening after they left but recovered quickly with the help of some marrowbones.

Yesterday, however, blindsided me. Without warning I emptied the contents of my stomach and stood staring at my deposit, confused and hungry. I felt fine and began my tap dance on the tiles, begging Grandma to please feed me. I couldn’t understand why she seemed upset, but I trotted along pleasantly as she ushered me outdoors where I promptly made another deposit onto the deck. At this point my pack was wild with excitement, trying to take advantage of my generous offerings, Again, I felt no distress, only confusion and disappointment. I tend to love what I put into my mouth and really don’t ever care to part with it. Grandma hurriedly hosed the deck and took me back inside. I rested for the afternoon and when Grandma returned from the store, she presented me with pieces of rice cake. Eureka! I was so excited that I could barely control my tap dance.  I think we were all feeling pretty pleased with ourselves and hopeful that this would suffice until dinner, but not a chance. My stomach again began its disgusting contortions, heaving pitiful and undigested rice morsels on the kitchen floor.

Clearly I was ill, but all I felt was ravenous hunger. Grandma would not budge on that issue though and so no dinner for me. She phoned the vet and after his asking all of the usual questions, said I could sip some chicken broth just for hydration. If I couldn’t retain that, then I must come to the hospital. Grandma meted it out as if it were gold, no matter how wildly my eyes bulged or how dangerous my footwork became.

Another of life’s mysteries remains unsolved. I slept like a baby through the night, awoke full of energy and appetite, and ate breakfast like a champion. As my mom always says, “Mason gets weird things. We never know why or how, but it is always best to wait and see.” Maybe it was what my great grandmother referred to as “summer complaint.” Whatever it was, I am ready to tuck into the next meal with renewed vigor and enthusiasm.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here I am resting after an "episode."