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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,



Here we are last summer out clamming on Grandpa's boat. See how patient and alert we were.

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


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