It was inevitable. I’m not sure that I would have chosen this path had I known how rigorous and invasive it would be. Fame…that elusive, and tantalizing old seductress…has ruined more happy and uncomplicated lives than can be estimated. The price fame extracts is often incalculable, leaving its victims blinking like moles in bright sunlight.
Since our book’s release, library appearances, and rave book review, Lizzie and I rarely have outings where we are not recognized. People freely shout out our names as they see us, come over to pet us, and then call their friends over to meet “The Summerpugs,” as we are referred to by many. All of this is lovely, and naturally I deport myself graciously and manfully (not like that shrinking idiot who shadows me).
Which brings me to last night’s baseball game. We ate before leaving and since it was Mom and Dad’s last night on the Cape, we had lobsters and steamers for dinner. Knowing how wild Lizzie and I are for those delicacies and also how they would miss us, Mom and Dad threw many steamers and bits of lobster our way. I have never been one to halt a feeding frenzy and last night was no exception. On the way to the game I began to experience some discomfort in my stomach, which always causes me to pant. By the time we arrived my bowels were in turmoil, roiling with activity. Dear reader, under these circumstances there is no controlling the next byproduct of this agony. Soon there were groans from all of the passengers as I released my noxious vapors into the car. Still, I bravely trotted around the field, greeting the many fans that recognized us. Under normal circumstances I could have retreated into my mom’s arms, but I couldn’t since my public wanted to see a feisty, confident, swaggering pug. And so, the show must go on.
P.S. I’m not including a photo this time for the obvious reason, and because you saw so many last time…