Believe it or not, dear reader, I am not a pug who asks much of life. I also consider myself to be fairly tolerant and accommodating. I alluded to there being too much excitement in my apartment lately and that is the topic to which I turn today.
I know Grandma is coming tomorrow, but not to see Lizzie and me. You are probably asking, “Why not?” and the answer is diabolically simple. She and my mom are traveling to Pennsylvania to “just look at” a French bulldog puppy. I, for one, am feeling a huge range of emotions…shock, confusion, betrayal, and outrage. The puppy is not for us, but for Grandma. I cannot understand why she would want to tamper with what is a fine and somewhat equitable arrangement. I mean, really, what is to be gained by such foolhardy and wanton behavior? Look at how I’ve struggled with the inclusion of one simple-minded, weak-willed, nincompoop of a pug (read “Lizzie”) into our family. And at Grandma’s I’ve had to endure the crack-addict antics of an adolescent female cat (read, Zoe) and her arrogant, dismissive consort (read, Oliver). I’ve dealt with all of these inequities with grace, dignity, and patience…but this is a low blow to yours truly. Forgive me, dear reader, but the last thing Grandma and Grandpa need is a peeing, pooping, puking little puppy!
Mom says that Grandma and Grandpa love us so much that they are having a hard time dealing with the yearly separation…that they need a full-time dog of their own. That they will always love us first and that we will still be there for our summers, and that blah blah blah. Does any of this sound familiar, folks? I make no apologies for my resentment. It is just another nail in my proverbial coffin.
I will keep you updated, rest assured.
“I hear your voice-(call)
your voice (call)
your voice (call)
the way it used to do
I feel my heart (fall)
my heart (fall)
I try to keep you off my mind
but every time I do, I hear your voice” Lionel Richie
I am not a huge fan of pop music, dear reader, but today Lionel says it best.
This morning, while Grandma and Grandpa were having breakfast, my mom phoned (which she does on a daily basis), and Grandma decided to put her call on speakerphone so that I could hear her easily. I cannot even begin to describe my response. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. In the past, Grandma has put the phone up to my ear for these chats with Mom, but they always frighten and disturb me. This, however, brought my mom’s voice right into the room, as if she were there. I must admit that I looked around for her but without any success. I really don’t understand how her voice can be so immediate and clear, and yet she not be there physically. All I know is that hearing her unleashed a torrent of emotion and longing. I was fine until that call.
Now I cannot stop thinking about her. Grandma reassures me that she and Dad are arriving on Friday for the weekend and that Lizzie and I will be returning to Manhattan with them for the winter. That news also triggered another emotional outpouring. While I am excited and thrilled to be with my parents, the thought of leaving Grandma and Grandpa is tearing my little pug heart apart.
I do know, however, that Lizzie and I have a great capacity for adjustment to change. We are highly adaptable creatures; otherwise we could not live these two separate lives so well.
Trite but true axiom: when one door closes, another always opens. This is my last week on the Cape and I plan to suck all the marrow from the remaining time before my NYC apartment door opens.
A bittersweet time for us.
My great grandmother used to say, “There is no fool like an old fool,” and that adage certainly pertains to yours truly. I can’t even make sense of the emotions gripping and tormenting me. I am in a constant state of agita and feel compelled to eat myself into a stupor (nothing unusual about that, I admit). What is this thing that afflicts me? I only know that when we visit my grandparent’s friends, or they us, and their magnificent mixed breed dog, Chloe, appears, my legs turn to rubber.
Her eyes are two bottomless orbs of amber, seductive and intelligent at the same time. Her legs go on forever, with incredible muscle tone and development. Her coat glistens with health and snaps with electric energy. She moves like a gazelle and she barely knows I exist. I must crane my neck and head back dangerously in order to even look at her face. Have I mentioned her manners? She is elegant, polite, considerate, unobtrusive, and wholly unattainable. I’m a gonner.
I have no one to whom I can turn for advice. Lizzie is such a loser and is always mooning about, looking at me with calf eyes. Grandma and Grandpa would laugh, I am sure, at the obvious disparity between us. The thought of being separated from the object of my desire is making me wild with anxiety. There is no pain like the pain of unrequited love. In my frustration, I’ve turned to abusing my little bear again. Mom says he is my comfort object, which is partially true, but he is also my punching bag.
In her presence I become tongue-tied and insecure. I strut like a puffed up Banty rooster. I am pathetic, I know, but I seem unable to move away from this adolescent posturing around her. Just one look from her sends me into a swoon. Did I mention how kind she is? I need help and I need it soon. Dearest Chloe….
Look at my goddess
Ahhh, her form is perfection
I am transported, I am comforted, I am in a state of such bliss that words don’t come easily. To see my mom open the back door and come inside carrying luggage was almost more than this little pug heart could bear. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating…you don’t know what or whom you’re missing until you are faced with that thing or person, and then you realize that there has been a hole in your heart that is suddenly filled.
My mom really doesn’t have to say much to me because we communicate on our own special wavelength…a secret unspoken language that we’ve shared since the day we met. We understand that our love goes beyond physical boundaries and that together, we are complete.
Her arms wrapped around my body reassure me that all is well with the world and there is no place in which I would rather be. You wonder how one little pug can feel this and know it? Well then, just look into your pug’s face closely and you will discover this truth. It is there for you to see if you have any doubts.
Of course Lizzard wriggled and squirmed for Mom, and Mom gave her a hug and kiss, but I have enough self-confidence to let her have that little moment. The thing is that Lizzie has no deep loyalty. She pretty much will waddle off with anyone who pets and loves her. When Grandpa asked who wanted a nap upstairs, off trotted that fickle little female. But not yours truly…I settled in with Mom on the downstairs sofa, and even though she and Grandma were chatting, I was being petted, stroked, and held.
I must apologize for the schmaltzy, sentimental pap that I’ve written today but sometimes even my emotions just flow like a river heading to the ocean.
Look at how we fit...