Ode to My Dad, or I’d Take a Grenade for Ya

Dear reader, I apologize profusely for my long absence but there were several contributing factors which prevented me from sharing with you the trials and tribulations of this old pug’s life…1) There is little to nothing happening during the season of cold and darkness. 2) We’ve been experiencing very challenging legal issues with our building. 3) Grandma has been busy with her so-called life. At any rate, here I am, poised and primed for regaling you with tales of my life in the city that never sleeps.

I dedicate this particular chapter to my long-suffering, but dutiful dad. He is a prince of a human (and I don’t say this lightly). On a recent evening, he took Lizzie and me out for our post dinner walkies and toileting. In his haste to complete this task, he neglected to bring the required baggies for waste collection, and of course Miss Lizzie, being the dutiful little pug that she is, quickly deposited her offering. Poor Dad though, realizing his oversight, ran into the tailor’s shop directly across from Lizzie’s “gift” and procured only one bag. Having averted that disaster, he led us on our journey. I failed to deliver, however, the much-awaited offering and Dad had no choice but to shepherd us into our building’s lobby, admonishing me all the while. Once inside, out of the cold, I assumed the all too familiar semi-crouch fast walk, immediately recognized by Dad as my signal of imminent release. With the alacrity and speed of one long accustomed to such emergencies, my blessed dad scooped me up and caught the unstoppable missile in his open and bare hand before it ever reached the marble floor. There being no receptacles in the lobby, my dad had no choice but to carry his prize in one hand into the elevator with two pugs in tow in the other. Once inside the elevator, Dad realized that tenants most likely would be entering our confined little box and then he would be forced  either to explain his foul smelling hand or hide the evidence. He chose the latter option and found a way to conceal the offending object by a quick sleight of hand, turning an open palm into a quickly flipped, reversed closed palm, hidden behind his back. Fortunately no one joined our little “lift party.”

Entering our apartment, Dad went straight to the toilet and flushed away any evidence of my effort. Mom could only stare in amazement and then give way to uncontrollable laughter.

And so, dear reader, there you have it…just another day in the life of a pug named Mason. You must remember I have no control of my hindquarters, so the humor in this situation is elusive to me, but according to my mom, my dad is one in a million.

Respectfully submitted,


Laundry delivery day...note my louche posture in a fetching onesie. Lizzie, of course, is just embarrassing.

Here we are, wedged into our little wheelie, being transported to Grand Central Station.


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14 responses to “Ode to My Dad, or I’d Take a Grenade for Ya

  1. Oh dear Mason, you never fail to make me laugh after a long weekend of work! Your dad is indeed a prince, and I’m sure he is well-rewarded with puggy kisses…the very best kind of reward, if you ask me!
    So sorry for you legal troubles. I’ve actually been curious to hear if you guys have moved into another apt building since yours was made “dog-free” (which is just sick and wrong!). But it sounds like it’s complicated, so I wish you all the best of luck. Of course, if things don’t work out and you can’t find appropriate and satisfactory accommodations in NYC, I think you should consider moving out here to Oregon, and try suburban living. There are a couple of houses for sale in our neighborhood, and my girls would LOVE having YOU as a neighbor! They could gaze at your handsome face every day, and Lizzie would have 3 new best girlfriends. Just a thought… *wink*

    • Thank you, Erin…you always have such a positive spin on life and I wouldn’t mind a new venue, but New York is our home for now. Mom and Dad will be victorious in this matter, about that I have no doubt.
      Thanks for all of your support and good wishes…and hi to the girls,

  2. Oh boy Mason, you have managed to get two more humans into fits of hysterical laughter. I do appologise, as I also do not see the humor, poor man. Your Dad sounds like a true gem. Mine would have just vomited in a pile right next to your unstoppable missile!

    • wilma,
      Yes, I guess it is true…humans have such an aversion to anything that bodies excrete or expel…which is hardly the case for a true pug! Thanks for sharing and glad I could generate some laughs.

  3. sue

    Mason I was so glad to see pugs voice in my email I have missed you and Lizzie I think your Dad is a true gem and as always you are one handsome pug

  4. Joanna

    Mason your Dad is a saint! I couldn’t help but giggle though. The things we do for our beloved pugs!

  5. Joanna,
    Yes, that is what I am being told repeatedly…I just don’t see the big deal but you humans are weird.
    Thanks for writing,

  6. Roxy, Blue and Bono

    We missed you Mason!

  7. Southern Fried Pugs

    Mason, our mom can relate. You can read about a similar experience she had with Isabelle here. http://southernfriedpugs.blogspot.com/2012/01/paytons-place-trip-part-2.html
    Although we never travel without multiple poo bags, who would have thought we would need it indoors?
    Much love,
    The Southern Fried Pugs

  8. Dear SFPs (May I?)
    Your letter entertained me enormously! Still, I can’t quite understand why such a natural process carries such unsavory connotations for humans. I sympathize with Isabelle…the stress of travel, excitement of treats, new pugs, and change of scenery always stimulate our little intestinal tracts.
    Thanks so much for sharing and reading…

  9. Lauren Gaught

    So good to hear from you Mason!… The gang here has missed hearing of your adventures!… Kudos to your Dad, He sounds like a keeper!

  10. Hello Mason,
    Hope you are well. I stopped by to invite you over to my blog http://www.wilmasworld.com. I had a little awards ceremony of my own last night, and you have been presented a Wimmy! Congratulations!


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