Zen and the Art of Pug Maintenance, or You Can’t Keep a Good Pug Down

I apologize, dear reader, for my lengthy silence but Grandma’s schedule has been frantic and full for the past two weeks (I wish I could say the same for mine!). I realize that some of you have been concerned about my silence, so let me say, without any equivocation, that all is well with yours truly.

It was a hectic weekend for me, both from Grandma’s arrival on Friday for the pet writer’s conference, and our journey together to the Cape on Sunday for an early consultation  Monday with a surgeon. The reward for these chaotic few days was delivered upon our arrival at Grandma and Grandpa’s, where Dad built a fire and Grandma handed out beautiful marrowbones. To say I was transported to a place of incredible bliss would be an understatement.

I faced the appointment Monday with my usual equanimity and sangfroid. I was gracious but reserved, tolerant but mindful, and open but cautious as I met this surgeon for the first time. He manipulated my weakening hind feet and legs, moving them back and forth and from side to side. He studied my x-rays closely, peering and squinting in the darkened room. And finally, for the coup de grace, he did the dreaded examination of my maleness. Why doctors seem so fascinated with that particular area of my anatomy, I have no idea. I do know that every single one of them ultimately arrives at that destination, for fondling, pressing, and palpating. I’ve become so inured to this process that I merely stare stoically ahead, imagining a juicy marrowbone or Lizzie’s head caught in a vice grip.

Well, dear reader, the news is not so grim. This learned man of medicine said that were I his dog, he would do nothing surgically, since spinal surgery is so risky and oftentimes has disastrous results. He said I was in no pain (I could have told him that had he asked!), and he certainly could see no diminution of life quality (again, I could have told him that). Outwardly I appear unchanged, except for the occasional cough or bark that can release a stored surprise, an exceedingly embarrassing event for a man-pug.

And so, yours truly once again escapes the dreaded knife. I was floating on air as we left, urging Grandma on to even greater speeds, so that I could finally enjoy a much-deserved breakfast.

Life is good!

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Look at that minx, Lizzie, and you will finally get her true measure. There is no guile or deception on my face, however.

Pugs and Kisses For Grandma

 

 

There isn’t much written about the unique relationship between a pug and his grandma. Grandmas come in all shapes, sizes, and ages but the ideal grandma for a pug comes bearing gifts.

 My grandma from Cape Cod arrives tomorrow for a visit and I’ve been talking it up steadily to Lizzie, who isn’t terribly responsive since all she wants to do is sleep when it is this cold. I, however, am pumped because I know that one thing my grandma understands is that I will be waiting for a special treat from her. She knows that my hard wiring demands a treat! Sometimes she goes to this wonderful dog store on the Cape called Hot Diggity, where all of the bakery items for dogs are homemade and delicious, and other times she goes to Trader Joes or Pet Smart.  No matter where she shops, the treat is unusual and pleasing to my palate.

The down side of Grandma is that she knows all of my tricks and ploys and will not tolerate bad behavior. She is not the soft touch, easily moved by big eyes kind of grandma…She is a firm believer in tough love, which I kind of respect but don’t really like. One thing I do like about her is that she thinks I’m funny, and as everyone knows, if you can make someone laugh you’re king of the world.

 So, there you have it dear reader. Grandma is coming and I can hardly wait. I will give you an update after her visit.

 

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. I’ve included a link to Hot Diggity for all grandmas

http://www.hotdiggityonline.com/index.php

This has nothing to do with Grandma but I think I look really good and Grandma will like looking at it.

 

 

 

 

A Pug’s Summer Idyll

 

I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m a sentimental sissy because I remember certain days or events with great satisfaction, but since Lizzie and I have so much alone time in the apartment we sometimes share our favorite memories…not maudlin girly stuff though.  In that same vein I’ve decided to share one with you, dear reader.

 Summer, as you know, is the time we spend on Cape Cod with our grandparents. There probably is no finer place on earth, at least for a pug, than this spit of land. The smells, the sights, the air, the water, and of course the food, all come together to create a kind of paradise.

 So when Grandpa, who is a bit of a soft touch when it comes to loving his grandpugs, needs to run errands, all we have to do is run down the stairs ahead of him and stand alert at the door to the garage. I know it doesn’t sound terribly exciting for most of you unimaginative sorts, but for Lizzie and me, it is the Holy Grail of outings! With only a look at our perky little donut tails and eager eyes, he says, “Would you guys like to come?” Like stink on road kill, we shoot out the door with him and jump into the jeep. We perch up front in the passenger seat, with the window down and the sunroof open, and wait for the fun to begin. First we head to the post office where Grandpa puts us up on the scales and then the postal ladies give us cookies. We wag and smile and look from face to face, hoping for another treat. Next we head to the bank, where we wait in the drive thru line. Knowing that the nice teller there always has cookies for us, we fling ourselves into Grandpa’s lap in the middle of his banking transaction and wait for the little drawer to slide out, bearing its treasures. Then, if there is an upcoming party or cookout, we go to the liquor store where Grandpa puts us in a cart and pushes us through the store. That always garners comments and cookies!

 What wonderful days those were and we comfort each other with the thought that they soon will be here  again.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Weighing in...what we suffer for a cookie!