Bitter and Sweet, Fair and Foul, The Best of Times and The Worst of Times

The weekend with my Cape Cod family passed by in a blur. After the greetings, the sniffings, pettings, exclaiming, and passing out of treats, it felt as if I were on a roller coaster ride at warp speed. This visit included, for the first time, Daphne and Cecily whose presence definitely had a great impact on the tone of our weekend. Remembering how I suffered so under Daphne’s reign of terror on the Cape, I let her have it immediately so that there could be no confusion. “This is MY house, bitch” (forgive me but that is the correct form of address for a female dog). After which, I attacked her. I felt so much better but unfortunately it did not deter her from aggressive behavior. She, within a few hours, had established herself as the alpha dog and ruled like a crazed despot.

Cecily resumed her nauseating relationship with Lizzie and they spent their house time cuddling and hiding out together. Whenever there was an altercation with Daphne they would climb into Lizzie’s bed and stare with wide innocent eyes. It sickened me.

On our walks, Daphne always drew attention…probably because she was the non-pug and people, for some strange reason, are drawn to Frenchies. And of course Cecily garnered many pats because she is the only black pug in our posse, which left Lizzard and me virtually invisible…like chopped liver!

While Grandma and Grandpa still lavished treats and attention upon me, I can see how the natural order has been disturbed. Physically, I am not the pug I once was and I am also much crankier and more demanding than ever. I tend to bark incessantly whenever I feel like it and I’m not the playful young pup of yore.  I don’t feel jealous of the newcomers, just mindful of the shift. I guess it is part of the aging process.

When they left Monday, I was surprisingly flat. The apartment was too quiet and we were too dull. But as long as I remain Mom and Dad’s number one pug, then I am content.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Still cutting a fine figure in the dog park

Here I am, trussed up like a turkey in my little back loader.

There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

This venerable old pug is hanging up his rucksack, lining up his meds, fluffing up his bed, and resting his dogs…so to speak. My wandering is over for some time, and while I had an action-packed summer it is time to relax in my new digs and resume my “master of the house” role.

With the addition of two more dogs to our pack, I don’t mind admitting that I’m exhausted…both mentally and physically. Daphne, the Frenchie, would try the patience of a saint and with her indefatigable energy and aggression, I was tried sorely on a daily basis. She was territorial, quarrelsome, and fast. In my youth perhaps I could have provided her a worthy opponent, but at my age and with my infirmities I had neither the ability nor interest. Cecily was as insipid and obsequious as Lizzie, so you can only imagine how those two huddled and cuddled together. Lizzie is still suffering the pangs of separation. Oh boo hoo, Lizzie. Cry me a river.

So, our summer was of a different tone and tenor this year, but the good news is that no one suffered any health issues (except for my ongoing eye treatments).

Our new home involves an upstairs bedroom, where Lizzie and I must be carried each evening for bed (if not, I set up a most fearful and annoying barking) because the stairs are open and way too steep for either of us to navigate. We love having the additional bedroom/office because now we can replicate those blissful days with Grandpa spent sleeping in little beds under his desk.

Because Mom has been sick since we returned, we’ve had some wonderful days spent caring for her at home; for us that translates into couch time on and under blankets with our patient.

While this isn’t the most newsworthy blog, at least you have been brought up to date with our whereabouts and activities. I will next regale you with more stories from our life in Gotham.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Day of departure...I ruined Grandma's photo op...but I think I'm pretty cute

The acceptable version

Looks innocent, doesn't she? You would be fooled if you believe that.

I Am Lizzie, Hear Me Roar, or The Adventures of Squirrel Girl

As I’ve said several times in my blogs, I will never understand females. They are the final frontier for this pug. I am, of course, referring to Lizzard since she is a member of that gender. Just when I am absolutely convinced that I know and understand every dull little facet of her personality and internal workings, she astonishes me.

After her arrival into our family unit, I very easily filed her under, “Dull-witted, Malleable, and Of No Interest.” How very shortsighted of me that now seems. To wit: in the course of one year this plump little partridge of a pug has become sleek, fit, and fast. Her passive meek self has emerged as a serious contender, with a bark that can raise one’s hair. I have mentioned before that she will fearlessly go after any dog foolish enough to bark at us when we are passing. She will strain at her leash, rising up on hind feet, baying like a bloodhound, and not back off. She must be dragged forcefully away, while still emitting her bloodlust filled cries.

The most recent change in Lizzie’s behavior was evidenced last week. After breakfast she likes to perch on the back of the couch, allowing her a view of the backyard, kitchen, family room, and hall leading to the front of the house. And, because she is lying on the top of the couch she has a good vantage point. On the particular day to which I refer, our little Lizzie began a frantic and wild barking, flung herself from her perch, and hurled her body at the back screen door. Grandma was so startled that she ran to open it for Lizzie, and we all watched amazed as she barreled across the lawn in mad pursuit of a squirrel. She blazed through the woods and screeched to a halt at the base of a pine tree where the terrified rodent had fled to its top. Lizzie stood at the base howling in frustration and anger, until she surmised the creature was not going to come down and meet its fate.

Who knew that such a fierce and bloodthirsty beast lay hidden in the meek and ditsy guise of “Miss Thing?” I am yet again shaking my head in wonder. In this there is a lesson for all of us, I feel certain. I hope I can refrain from making snap judgments and absolute pronouncements about pugs and humans. I still don’t understand females but I am learning that there is more to Lizzie than initially meets the eye. Please don’t, however, confuse grudging respect with love.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

I couldn't capture Squirrel Girl in action since she was too fast...but here she is, sitting on her perch, keeping a vigilant eye on the backyard.