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.