Every Pug Has Its Day, or Lizzie Has Her Say

Dear Diary,

I’m writing because Mason isn’t “feeling it” today and also because I need to vent some of my frustrations. Sometimes Mason can be so sweet, well maybe not sweet but at least not mean, and other times he can be so cruel. I just don’t understand. This morning, diary, we were out in the yard and Mason was chewing on a marrowbone (he has them scattered all over the yard) and I just happened to walk past him to the deck when he jumped up and ran growling and snapping at me! What did he think? That I was going to take his nasty old, dirt encrusted, slobbered up bone? I just don’t get him sometimes.

And this weekend, we went out on the boat and of course Grandma and Grandpa invited their friends who have Chloe (I’m sure you remember HER!). It was her first trip ever on a boat and Mason starts acting all weird, like being on a boat is where he is most at home and then trying to pretend he didn’t even see her (how could you miss her since she’s about six feet long?). I don’t get him at all. And then, diary, out at the island, he went out of his way to be near her. I swear she didn’t even look at him the entire day. What am I, chopped liver?

But when we ride in Grandma’s little sports car, with the top down, then he is all cuddly with me. We sit together in the passenger seat and he drapes his body over or against mine. He couldn’t do that with Chloe, that is for sure.

He seems very moody lately and I’m not sure why. Our food is really good here, we are outdoors a lot, we take beach and trail hikes, we get to do errands with Grandpa and we’re never lonely. So why does he have to be such a pill?

I love Mason so much. He is my everything guy but I wish I understood him better. I guess he has his reasons but he sure makes it hard for me sometimes. Thanks for listening, dear diary.

Until next time,

Lizzie

Here is Chloe. I don't think she's all that, do you?

Look at how he pretends to be sleeping when actually he's watching her.

They don't even look good together, do they? I mean she is nice enough, but not for Mason.

When The Frost Is On The Pumpkin, or Memories of a Season Well Lived

You know, dear reader, that I am a pug prone to rumination and as my season on Cape Cod draws to a close, I tend to experience each of my favorite things while living here with a bittersweet zest. Perhaps I am not alone in this regard. As I’ve written before, we pugs have an internal clock/calendar that guides us into seasonal changes and senses the passage of time.

When Grandma gives me a “bully stick” now, I attack it with a passion and fervor unlike earlier months. When Grandma mixes up my kibbles and pumpkin, I become wild with anticipation. When Grandpa asks, “Do you guys want to come with me to the bank/post office/library?” I respond immediately and as if it were my last trip on this earth. Even our morning and evening toileting has a poignancy unlike any other time. There is an organic quality to using the woods that we miss in the city. Everything is sweeter…the clams, the lobster remains, carrots, kitty crullers (to borrow from an observant reader my favorite new phrase for this delicacy), naps, walks, boat trips, swims in the ocean, and just being with the old folks (sorry Grandma and Grandpa).

I am not a pug that takes his life for granted; I know how fortunate I am. I don’t know if goofy Lizzie is cognizant of her blessings, because she barely knows what day of the week it is, but I am mindful always. I even enjoy Lizzie more than I could even imagine. And as I say that, please bear in mind that I haven’t crossed over into the dark side. I am just saying that this season of change has intensified everything for me. I have a picture in mind of returning on our last boat outing this past weekend, sitting in Mom’s arms, up tight against Lizzie, in the bow of the boat. The air was cool, our backs were against the wind, and the gentle motion of the boat lulled us both to sleep in the safest cocoon imaginable.

No more sentimental or mawkish thoughts from me…

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

This is for all of you who simply must have a seasonal shot...you can see my level of disinterest.

I think this is a nicer shot of yours truly, and shows Lizzie to be the true loser that she is.

Pug Perfect, or A Pug Tale of No Consequence

Mason is so busy chewing his marrowbone that he requested I do today’s blog. His words were,  “Go write your usual sappy drivel, Lizzard, but just don’t bother me!” That Mason, isn’t he the funniest old thing? At any rate, I thought it might be nice to share with you one of the most wonderful days ever.

I’m sure Mason would argue about that, only because he never likes to agree with me, but yesterday was really pug perfect. Grandma and Grandpa asked if we wanted to go out to the island on the boat with them, and of course we went crazy with excitement. I love standing on the pier waiting for Grandpa to come up in his boat, load us and all of our stuff onto it, and then head out to the island. The breeze was perfect, blowing my ears gently as I cuddled up with Grandma in the front of the boat.

As soon as we anchored and went ashore, I found my spot…behind Grandma’s chair under her draped beach towel. It makes a perfect shelter from the sun so that I can nap comfortably while the onshore breeze keeps me cool. There is always a nice bowl of water in my tent, so it couldn’t be better. Mason is busy, always busy searching for food, running from one person to the next. He goes swimming to keep cool but won’t take shelter because he is so afraid of missing a crumb of food. Finally he fell asleep in Grandpa’s arms, but his eyes would snap open the minute he heard any sound at all. I really wish he could relax.

The trip home was equally good because we were so pooped. Mason does sleep then. After he had a shower with Grandma (because he went swimming) we got ready for dinner at friends of my grandparents. What a yummy dinner it was! Fresh tuna steaks, seared on the grill but raw inside! We actually had some and Mason then became a crazy man. After dinner we went outside to watch the meteor showers. We sat on lawn chairs just staring up at the sky. I lay on Grandma’s lap and Mason on Grandpa’s. It was so quiet and beautiful that I felt this amazing connection to nature.

So you see, it was not an exciting day, but for me, a perfect one. Mason just read this, laughed, and said that I am a Pollyanna who lives in “la la” land and I have no connection to anything. I am going to disagree with him this time.

Pugs and kisses,

Lizzie

Mason chose this because he said everyone will laugh at me when they see it. I don't know why.

And then he added this close up because he wants his readers to see what a loser he is living with. Whatever, Mason.

Mason said to say, "This is what a true representative of the breed should look like."

Here I am in my shelter by the sea.

Here is Mason asleep on Grandpa's chest. He,he,he...I slipped this past him! He doesn't look so fierce now, does he?

Pooped Pugs, or Fan Me With A Palm Frond, Please

I must confess, dear reader, to an ever-increasing lethargy and fatigue that seems to consume me each day. I can only assume that it is due to the oppressive humidity blanketing Cape Cod, and probably all of the east coast, this week. Mom and Grandma are feeling it too, which gives me more wiggle room for being a sloth.

Saturday we headed out to the island on Grandpa’s boat, and while the temperature was warm, there was a steady on shore breeze, which made the day perfect. Lizzie and I love the journey because of the wind on our faces and the tantalizing smells in the air. After we reached the island, anchored the boat, and hauled all of our paraphernalia ashore, Grandma decided we needed a swim. And swim we did. I am more of a plunk, plunk, plunk kind of swimmer. I see no reason to paddle furiously when I know the waves will take me to shore eventually. Of course Grandma supported me around my waist. Lizzie, however, begins a frantic, toes splayed, head held aloft kind of swimming well before she even hits the water. It really makes me laugh to see her go. Everyone near her gets sprayed once she is actually in the water. As you must know by now, she is not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Because of our frequent swims throughout the day we managed to stay quite cool and comfortable. On our return, we stopped at a choice little spit of land where clams love to burrow, and Mom and Grandpa dug for their dinner (ours too!). Those of you who have our book will know just where I am describing. There is a photo of Lizzard and me standing in the water there at low tide, looking for clams.

The finale to a spectacular day was an outdoor shower and shampoo with Mom. Our day could not have been better, but we were exhausted and slept like puppies that night. I am still not fully energized but will rally on Thursday since we have another book reading and signing at the Sturgis Library in Barnstable Village, 10:30 AM.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. Let me know what you think of my blog’s new look. Grandpa designed it and I think it captures the essence of our summer…Thanks, Grandpa!

This is one I wanted to show on my last blog and since no one took a camera on the boat, I decided to share it now.

The Mother and Child Reunion, or I Never Can Say Goodbye

Sometimes, dear reader, rock and roll says it best, but perhaps I am just wallowing in my memories of a perfect, long, weekend reunion with my mom and dad. They arrived late Wednesday night and until they left, late Sunday afternoon, Lizzie and I were cosseted and cuddled by them.

It’s funny how you can manage the pain of separation from loved ones until you actually see them again, and then you suddenly realize there has been an opening in your heart that now is filled. This realization became vividly apparent once I was in my mom’s arms again.

We spent time walking on the beach, playing badminton, having cookouts, and riding in the boat.  Our nights were spent sharing our parents’ bed, where I was once again able to wrap myself around my mom’s head on top of her pillow. Lizzard prefers a deep burrow, under the covers, with mornings spent wrapped in Dad’s arms. Ah, what incredible bliss for us. I cannot speak for Lizzie, but to me no time could have been sweeter.

When their car left late Sunday, I was so exhausted that I could barely grieve. I craved a long nap and, for once, did not even think about dinner. I know Grandma and Grandpa miss my parents and are already looking forward to their August visit.

Like the Cape weather, my moods change rapidly. They can be rainy one minute and the sunny the next…depending upon our plans. This week begins our reading tour of the libraries, with the first at the Marstons Mills Library on Thursday at 10 AM and the Brewster Ladies Library on Friday at 2 PM. I hope people come to meet us and buy our book.

I know tomorrow will find me filled with renewed hope and vigor, but for today, color me blue.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Check out yours truly, sporting a pair of bad chrome "doggles" Mom sent me this weekend. I look incredibly hot, don't I?

Lizzie, however, looks like a total idiot. It wasn't bad enough to put her in a pair, but they gave her pink!

Our "under the boardwalk" moment, only we use beach chairs for shelter

Here I am obeying the jump command for Grandma. Mom loved watching me as I cleared the thrown together/ghetto looking jump course.

Don’t Give Up The Ship!

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by. John Masefield

Ah, yes, dear reader, I now wax poetic as I think of that day on the sea with Grandma, Grandpa, and Lizzie. Saturday was such a dazzling day that it seemed to be a trick or an illusion. We kept watching the sky closely, sure that the ubiquitous rain clouds would appear and we’d have to retreat back into our dripping house. But no, the sun shone on and so we packed up for the boat and headed down to the marina. I wasn’t sure we were included until we unloaded our gear at the marina. Usually it was deemed too hot for us to be out in the sun for the day. The air, though, was cool, dry, and breezy and we were keen for the outing!

The ride out to our island is the best part of the journey for me. I sit in Grandpa’s lap and steer the boat, with the wind blowing my ears in a charming, jaunty manner. I am, for that time, the captain of the vessel, but for some unexplained reason, the rules changed and I wasn’t notified. Without any warning, I saw Grandpa hoist that loser Lizzie onto his lap, giving her my seat and power! I was absolutely gobsmacked (to borrow from the Brits)!

I looked back and forth, from Grandma to Grandpa, knowing it was just a cruel mistake and that they would recognize their error immediately. Instead, Grandma just scooped me up into her arms, saying cheerfully, “Well, now, isn’t this fun, Mason Man? Getting to ride with Grandma today?” I couldn’t tell her how angry, hurt, and offended I was, but she is a pretty shrewd old woman and I think she got the message.

The return trip was much different. Grandpa gave the signal as we left the island and began our return journey. Up I went into his lap, and took the wheel. I don’t like to boast but I do cut quite a figure when I am piloting the boat. Our return was uneventful but it did help ease the smarting wounds inflicted on the outbound trip. All in all it was a wonderful day and I think Lizzie and I are quite seaworthy pugs.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Look at goofy Lizzie in the captain's seat. She has no idea what she is doing.

This is what a captain looks like, sitting at the helm....serious and sober. I was born for this.

A closer look at yours truly. I probably should have made Lizzie walk the plank that day!

All Pugs On Deck, or It’s the Boatin’ Life For Me

Our maiden voyage of the season was all that it should have been: fair weather (for a while), nice breeze, tangy smell in the air, and some good naps in the sand. The only thing keeping this cruise from a four star rating was the marked absence of dog treats. I prefer the more planned outings to the spontaneous ones since part of the planning includes the procurement of ship victuals! Still and all, we enjoyed ourselves enormously.

Lizzie doesn’t have much sea savvy and so she never anticipates when Grandpa is going to open up his engine in the high-speed zones of water. She is so funny to watch when this happens since she is inevitably thrown forward or off her seat. I, however, have spent enough summers engaged in this particular activity so that I know when to move safely aft and hunker down until we reach the no-wake zone. Oh dear me, it makes me laugh just thinking about her helpless little face, trapped forward and afraid to move.

Reaching the island is as fun as the journey. We eagerly alight, sniffing the rosa rugosas and listening to seagulls as they squawk and screech. Their cries can pierce the most comatose pug nap! Lizzie and I snort and snuffle around a bit, getting a sense of what creatures are living and what ones have moved on to the next realm. It is always changing and always the same. After this, we settle down for a beach snooze.

I think in re-reading this, it sounds pretty dull for the uninitiated, but for pugs who love the sea, boating, and exploring, it is our gateway to summer.

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

Here I am, master of my domain, heading out to sea

 

Look at silly Lizzie, peeking at us from the front of the boat.

 

I am having the best nap ever out at Sampson's, aka Dead Neck Island

It’s The Destination, Not the Journey or It’s The Most Wonderful Time of The Year

Pugs, like all primal herd animals, have an innate sense of change. We are so closely attuned to the seasons and workings of our masters that we know, without being told, when it is time to pack up our living essentials and join the great migration…in this case, heading northeast.

 Yes, dear reader, it is time for Lizzie and me to end our fast paced Manhattan life and begin our lazy idyll on Cape Cod. Thursday Mom will load up the car, with some trepidation since she is going alone, and drive us to our summer destination. When we reach the Bourne Bridge, the air changes its scent. To a pug, even a sleeping one, this always is our signal that we have entered a different realm, our Xanadu. There is a salty sweet piquancy in the air, laced with a scrub pine scent intensified by the sun’s heat. Dirt and concrete is replaced with sand, and street noises with the soothing surf. We will go out for clams in Grandpa’s boat and then eat them on the deck at the end of the day. The roadkill is ubiquitous and pleasingly pungent, but low tide is truly an olfactory paradise.  Oh, forgive me, I digress and take little journeys in my mind.

 Even though our summer is filled with many activities, I plan to keep writing my blog so that you remain connected with Lizzie and me. My next entry will be from the Cape!

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

Here we are last summer out clamming on Grandpa's boat. Even though we were tired, see how patient and alert we were.