Pug Windbreaking, or I’ve Still Got What It Takes

Ah, dear reader, there are some minutiae of a pug’s life better left unspoken, but there are, of course, always exceptions to the rule. In this instance I would feel remiss if I didn’t recount, with some degree of both embarrassment and pride, the most recent of events.

I do not pretend to understand the physiology of a pug but I do know when there is an excess accumulation of methane gas, it must be released. I have no idea why this morning found me suffering so from this affliction. I ate nothing unusual yesterday, and if fact, enjoyed one of the most relaxed and indolent of days with my mom. We spent it lazing on the couch, watching movies and napping, wrapped in a cocoon of love and warmth. This morning, however, my flatulence probably surpassed any I have ever  experienced in my life…surprising even yours truly. For those of you who would rather not hear the somewhat graphic details, I would advise you to close this entry now. For the rest of you with prurient interest and curiosity, read on, but please forgive the slightly distasteful nature of this expose.

Mom bundled us up for our morning outing and as we were ambulating briskly along Clinton Street, I let loose such forceful wind that two young men, standing outside of their apartment building, exclaimed, “Dude! Did you just hear that dog? I mean, did you hear him? He exploded!” My mom, bless her soul, always quick to rush to my defense, turned toward them and said, “Yeah, right, like the dog did it.”

We continued on our way and much to my astonishment, I again let forth a magnificent detonation, so that there could be no doubt whatsoever as to its source. Mom was horrified but, I also suspect, a bit amused. She felt the need to question its source all the way home.

And so, dear reader, for those of you who might wonder if this old pug is all that he should be, let me assure you that I am still capable of producing the kind of resounding, virile, and highly competitive flatus any man or pug would be proud to claim.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. My eye is healing nicely and Mom freed me of my collar yesterday.

A pug in his prime, master of his domain, and king of his castle.

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?