What Price Fame, or Noblesse Oblige

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.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. I’m not including a photo this time for the obvious reason, and because you saw so many last time…

Just Keepin’ It Real, or What Price Fame

Since I am a pug who eschews idolatry or any form of cult-like devotion, I find myself now standing at the brink of this seductive abyss. I must be very clear about my position, dear reader, that I am not, nor ever will be, drawn like a moth to the flame of fame.

I am a very basic pug who enjoys food, sleep, food, walks, food, family, and food. Those who choose to elevate me to iconic status do so for their own personal reasons. I am still Mason from the ‘hood (to paraphrase J Lo’s tune).

 Pugs, by their very nature, are compelled to interact with humans. Helloooo, that is how we get food, right? Our hunting and gathering days are long over. That instinct has been bred out of us so that we are simply your companions and little more. Because we are dependent upon you, we know how to charm and entice. Our goal…the acquisition of food. When you see a successful pug in a film, you must understand that he or she is working for food and nothing else. Don’t assume that we are naturally “stars” or have star quality. We are just driven to unimaginable feats for the reward of a treat.

 Fame means nothing to us. We are unaffected by its siren-like lure. So, while I have a certain degree of notoriety and recognition these days, I am still the same unspoiled, unaffected, butt-sniffing, food-seeking pug you’ve known and loved. I am, however, not saying that I don’t enjoy the flattery from admiring females as well as the fan mail I’ve received, but rather that they have not affected my core persona.

 At the end of the day, as my mom is so wont to say, I am just a pug who enjoys doing pug things.

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

P.S. You should buy our book.

 

Here Lizzie and I are "keepin' it real" in bed Saturday morning.

 

Lizzie and I at Thompkins Sq. Park Saturday morning...just like normal everyday pugs.