A Pug’s Wish List, or What Pugs Really Want for Christmas

Because you humans attach such significance to holidays, it seemed appropriate to address the age-old question of what to get the pug. First of all, I need to dispel the notion that we actually care about receiving a present as we watch you tear madly into your excessive haul. We do, however, enjoy the excitement it engenders, and we really love walking around in the aftermath of strewn papers and ribbons. That having been said, I feel obligated to share with you what we, of the pug breed, most love at this time of the year.

• Cuddling on the sofa, in front of a roaring fire, with one or both of our parents. If a nap ensues, then even better. If you’ve no fireplace, no worries…we are still happy for your undivided time and body.
• If you’re baking Christmas treats, let us stand with you in the kitchen and be your taste-tester. If a few crumbs fall our way, then we are also happy.
• Long, leisurely walks in newly fallen snow (or not), knowing that a nice dog cookie is our reward at home.
• A fresh marrowbone or oversized biscuit is always a welcome gift.

What we really don’t like at all, but you love giving as gifts:

• Hand knit sweaters, fleece jackets, hoodies, booties, and any item of apparel you find adorable on us.
• Christmas costumes of any sort, including reindeer antlers, Santa beard, hat, and coat, elf outfits, jingling bells, Christmas tree lights, and baby Jesus swaddling. We hate all of this and endure the indignity of wearing it because it pleases you enormously and you want that Christmas card photo so desperately.
• A new baby puppy. Enough said.
• Wrapped presents because you think it is great fun watching us struggle with unwrapping  them.

We pugs were put on earth just for your pleasure and we are the consummate people pleasing dogs, and so, if you would like to please us this holiday, consider giving us what we really want.

Happy holidays from a wise old pug, and respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here we are, all suited up and ready to brave the cold for our hike.

We look like extras from a sad circus in our colorful sweaters. I understand we needed some outer garment due to the extreme cold, but why do we have to look so garish?

When Good Pugs Go Bad, or Dear Santa, Please Forgive Us

Perhaps it was the building excitement of the holidays, maybe it was having extended time alone in our wee apartment, or maybe it was mercury in retrograde…whatever the reasons, Lizzie and I behaved poorly on Friday and since Christmas is so close I felt some atonement for our sins was in order.

I understand the first step in this process is the acknowledgment or ownership of the wrongful action, and so I am saying now that Lizzie and I were despicable in our behavior. Describing our crimes requires the delicacy for which I am most known, but even so my description may offend you, oh gentle reader. Please understand that I must have my say or else all is lost.

When Mom arrived home from work on Friday she greeted us in her usual effusive and loving manner while we wiggled and squirmed in her warmth. The spell was abruptly broken when Mom began sniffing the air, which, I must admit, was redolent with the sharp scent of pug waste. Mom spied Lizzie’s foul offering, piled atop her favorite Etro accent pillow on the couch. Now, you may wonder, how can I honestly say it was Lizzie’s and not mine? Simply put, it could only be Lizzie’s since my hind legs prevent me from making the leap onto the couch anymore. The tale does end here.

When Mom took us out for our evening walk, the elevator was not running efficiently so she carried me down the stairs and Lizzie walked. Again, the limitations of my hind legs prevent my successfully navigating such steep stairs.  This weakening has also affected control of my, hmmm, entire hindquarters, and so, I tend to leave little reminders of this condition whenever I’m being carried to my toileting. This occurs only when the need for relieving myself is imminent. Mom, however, was ignorant of my droppings, so to speak.

Later that evening, she and Dad left for dinner with friends, and again were forced to use the stairs. Mom, in her Louboutins, squished on each step of her descent, looked down in horror and had to return to the apartment for a cleanup. In their haste to make their reservation they committed the cardinal sin…failure to elevate the garbage can. That’s right, when they returned later that evening, tipsy and tired, they were greeted by one of Lizzie’s most thorough trash tosses.

I do not believe pugs are either good or bad, and I do think that all of us, given the opportunity, will behave in a way that is highly objectionable to humans. We are sorry, Mom and Dad. Please try to remember that for most of the year we are well-behaved and people-pleasing pugs.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Look at this, Mom and Dad, and think of happier times...

A Pug’s Wish List, or “Please Sir, I Want Some More.” (Charles Dickens)

Well, dear reader, it is the time of year when all pugs, whether they be Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or atheist, turn their thoughts to what gifts they would most like to receive. And to that end, I’ve spent my leisure time (read, alone in my apartment) compiling what I believe is a very thoughtful and thorough list of what most pugs honestly desire as gifts.

I’ve consulted with Lizzie briefly because, quite frankly, her wishes are so nauseating that I’ve had to edit out most of them. Here, then, is our ultimate wish list:

1. A steady supply of meaty, moist marrowbones without any imposed restrictions on frequency or location of their consumption. I will growl, snarl, and run away when approached while I am consuming.

2. One night, for just me and my mom…no Lizzie, no Dad…just me, enjoying some snacks and QT (quiet time) with her on the couch, watching TV or napping together.

3. Unlimited time in Grandma’s kitchen, while she prepares a huge feast, tossing me bits of whatever she prepares. Without any interlopers. Just me.

4. A leisurely stroll through Eagle Pond Preserve, where I can take as much time to sniff out interesting odors, wander off the trails, and lift my leg as often as I please without being urged to move forward.

5. An entire day riding around with Grandpa while he does errands that involve treats being doled out at every stop.

6. An excellent bully stick of extraordinary length and width…something a man pug can really sink his teeth into.

7. No salt on the sidewalks so that I am not forced into wearing the dreaded “paw condoms.”

8. Pizza night every night of the week, with the lion’s share going to yours truly.

9. No more toenail trims. Enough said.

10. Receiving treats I’ve never tasted before but will love immediately.

And there you have it…a thoughtful, respectable, and inexpensive wish list for this holiday season from a pug named Mason (and minimally Lizzie).

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Pleading Pug. How could you not make his holiday wishes come true?

Look at that fool, Lizzie. She has the classic "lights on, nobody's home" look, with all her legs in the air. If you knew her Christmas wishes, you'd shudder.

All I’m Asking for is a Little Respect

Just when I thought all of my trips to the vet were over, I found out I was scheduled to visit my Cape doctor over Christmas. My summer on the Cape was filled with quite a few medical emergencies, and while my vet there is an okay guy, quite frankly I’ve had my fill of his “invasive” procedures in my dude area. Without getting into graphic details, let me just say that the emergency operation I underwent this summer involved some rearranging of certain conduits in that area.  I’m fine and enjoying myself but Mom felt there was some swelling that needed a little lookie. Now, I knew from Grandma that the staff at the hospital had a very big Christmas cookie saved for me so I was psyched. I couldn’t imagine that the good doctor was going to go through all of the probing, poking, and exposing of last summer so I was fighting mad, to say the least, when he started up that business again.  Then I was informed my toenails had to be clipped! As any pug knows, toenail clipping is up there with neutering on the pain chart. I let them know that my cookie better be as big as a gingerbread house and it needed to come fast! Because I’m a dude I put up a brave front,  but when I heard Dr. M. refer to my recent medical debacle as “Tales of Ragged Dick” I knew I had to get out of there. There is only so much indignity a dude can endure! 

At any rate, dear reader, I am showing you the feast Lizzard and I enjoyed on Christmas night…not too shabby, right? And yes, ladies, I am fine!

 

Respectfully submitted,

 

Mason

Aren't we polite?