Tag Archives: Frenchie

Buffalo Pizzle, A Gentle Breeze, and Good Company

Something about the weather, the angle of the sun, the relaxed atmosphere that led Grandma to the cupboard for our stash of buffalo pizzles…They are stinky, foul smelling items but to us the greatest treat in the world. Daphne, of course, as our leader, would never dream of joining us on the grass for these delicacies. She always separates herself from the pack…something about maintaining a certain discipline and distance I think. She will inhale hers while we are still sucking and chewing away. Poor old Cecily though…because she is both blind and deaf, she loses hers easily and then she wanders around trying to find it. Grandma always keeps one eye on her though so she doesn’t harm herself.

What a summer this has been for us Fresh Air Fund dogs…the most fun of all is playing Treibball with Daphne. Actually, it is Daphne who herds the ball and we just chase her, barking crazily. it is exhausting because she is so fast, chasing that ball through the woods, around trees, up and down little hills, all the while howling and screaming at it like a foxhound on the scent. When Grandma and Grandpa say we’ve had enough, we collapse with our little sides heaving and our tongues going in and out so fast from panting…but it is the greatest thing ever!

I know some great big dogs are coming tonight and that worries me a bit…two Bernese Mountain dogs, and one huge Labrador…Grandma says she will make sure we are safe though. It is going to be really quiet in NY when we return, but at least Maisie and I have each other during the days.

Last night Grandma had a few leftover scraps of salmon to add to our dinner. The smell was driving us mad and the taste was out of this world…wouldn’t mind having that every night!.

I’ve included some photos of our pizzle party and a video of us playing Treibball…

Until next time,

Phillip

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Letters From Camp

Dear Mama,
Grandma says we may write you a letter from Camp since we miss you and you are sad. I will write first because Maisie is busy playing with Daphne. We are having a wonderful time, Mom, and Grandma is very good to us. We get breakfast every morning around 7 AM and then Grandpa takes us out for pees and poops. We like to hang out under the kitchen table while they read the paper and drink coffee. Grandpa likes to eat earlier than Grandma so we watch his side closely. After they are finished we have our big morning nap…sometimes all of the pugs climb into the puffy bed and Daphne sleeps in the chair. At lunchtime Grandma takes us out for pees and some Treibball play. We come in for our dried liver treat and then it is the big afternoon nap. Late afternoon is more backyard play and barking, and then dinner is served at 5:30 sharp. After dinner, either Grandma or Grandpa takes us for a walk. By the time we are back, we are ready to snuggle in for the evening. Bedtime is 10 PM. We go out for a final pee and then follow Grandma upstairs to their bedroom for a cookie and the big bed like we have. I know it must sound boring to you but we really like it because throughout the day we go in and out, play in the pool, bark at Booker, chase Daphne, and just hang. I wish you were here and I miss cuddling on the couch with you while you watch Bravo TV. I can hardly wait to see you. Don’t be sad…there are so many butt holes to smell, Mom! I love you,
Phillip
Hi Mama!
OMG, Daphne is so cool. She scares me and excites me at the same time. I will follow her anywhere even if it looks dangerous. She can be so sweet and fun and then, for no reason, snap at me. I have learned she doesn’t mean it and I know how to run really fast and avoid her when she is snappy…like when we play Treibball. I swear she wants to kill it!
I know you are having a bad time and I wish Phillip and I could cheer you up and wrestle for you. Grandma says I am the Energizer Rabbit and sometimes she has to get cross with me when I get too “busy.” I know she loves me though because she talks to us all the time. She calls us her McNuggets and Velcro Pugs. We didn’t like sleeping in the dormitory…I am not sure why but once we moved in with Grandma and Grandpa, we sleep like babies.
I could play with Daphne forever but she needs more naps than I do so I don’t “poke the bear.”
I love you and miss you, but don’t worry about us…camp is great. I can hardly wait until I see you.
Love,
Maisie
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Eunuch in the Harem

Help me out guys…I am really at a loss trying to figure out females. I live with one, and now two more. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but sometimes a fella’ just needs a little time out from all the drama. Maisie can be a really annoying little half sister and while I know she loves me to the moon and back, she never stops sniffing, licking, or chewing me. I am a pretty patient guy but there comes a point where I snap – not in a mean or nasty way – I just turn and give it back to her. And here’s the kicker, she loves this the most! So what do I do? All I really want to do for the day, and evening too, is nap – napping is good and I need a lot of it. Let’s face it, I am a lover and cuddler, not a fighter or athlete. If left on my own, I could cuddle and sleep away my life. At any rate, now that there are three females, I am beginning to feel sleep deprived.

Cecily really doesn’t interfere because she is deaf and blind, but what she does do a lot  is bark. I think I heard that Mason did that when he became challenged. She is a good cuddle partner though. Daphne, like I think I mentioned before, is a whole different class of dog. She doesn’t want to share space with anyone, prefers sleeping alone, and only plays with you when she is in the mood. We learned very quickly not to “poke the bear.” She is alpha dog with a capital A. We respect her and never overstep our boundaries. So you can see there are three very different personalities working on me.

Now, the most fun for Maisie and me is when Daphne decides she is ready to play, and believe me, she plays hard! She has this disgusting old deflated, ripped, and shredded football that she loves to chase and chew on. When she runs after it we run for her, barking with all our might and nipping at her since we know nothing can keep her from that ball. We feel so brave and strong doing this since we are safe from any retaliation. I know, we are wimpy pugs but it does so much for our self confidence and allows us to have some interaction with our boss. Sometimes, though, she will get so fed up that she drops the ball and comes for us, giving that growl that comes from deep in her chest. Let me tell you, when we hear that sound and see her muscles bulging, we scatter like roaches. I know I sound like a sissy but really I am just protecting myself from harm. Daphne’s jaws are really terrifying.

I’m not complaining because our days are actually pretty stimulating (probably more than I need) but we are a pack now, and as most of you know, pugs like big families. Grandma runs a fairly tight ship and she always has my back when there is ever an issue…probably because I am the only boy. She calls me “Philly Lou” or “Philly Gumbo” and I love it when she does.

I’ve attached a small film showing the football game…

Til’ next time,

Philly Gumbo

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Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, or Did You Miss Me?

I know I know…my silence speaks volumes but, dear reader, my voice is stilled only by Grandma’s preoccupation with other matters (none of which could possibly be as important as my words). At any rate, I am pushing her to complete what I don’t consider an odious task, but rather a creative and informative pleasure.

My fourth of July was all a pug of my advanced years could hope for: a car trip cuddled next to Mom, green grass dotted with marrowbones, clam shells thrown casually about, lobster outdoors, fireworks viewed from the comfort of Grandpa’s Jeep, Four Seas ice cream, and a visit to my favorite animal hospital. No, there was no injury or illness…just a once-over by my sardonic, I’ve-seen-it-all vet, Dr. Munson. Mom was concerned since I am less able to navigate freely with the gradual wasting of my hindquarters, particularly the left hind leg. With his usual shrug and caustic tone, he assured her that I still “had game” and was in for the long haul. Reassured, she hugged me and professed her undying love. Frankly, I have no idea why she worries so. So what if I’m held together by duct tape? I have more enthusiasm and lust for life than most puppies I’ve seen. And of course, Lizzie performed her little “Oh Mason, I’m glad you’re back and so glad you are okay” dance when we returned. She is so disingenuous and I know this because the minute I left she was cuddling with Cecily, like I never existed.

The good part of this growing infirmity is that I am free to be me, and  dear reader, as any elderly human knows, one of these freedoms is to poop when and where I wish, without any warning. I apologize if I’m offending any of you,  but this is my reality. Yes, I do don the nightly diaper but it can manage only so much payload (forgive me again) and there are oftentimes escapees. And often, some errant stool, like rain from heaven, falls to the ground, as I either am  being carried or strolling through the house. Grandma and Dad are not fans of this occurrence. Of course that presents a secondary problem since Grandma’s domineering, alpha Frenchie, Daphne has a predilection for my sweet offerings. As I’ve often said, old age is not for sissies, nor the faint of heart.

Everyone was on high alert that weekend, always trying to  stay one step ahead of the inevitable. And  into the fray came Otis, the English bulldog, who vomits when he is frightened, but he spent his days at the beach swimming and body boarding.

I’m not sure how sad Grandma was seeing us leave but I know the weekend was magic for this old pug.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Ridiculous two females...Cecily and Lizzie just wallow in their girlish love for one another.

Daphne, the terrorist, on our boat outing over Memorial Day...

Otis at the beach, on a beach chair...His nose got sunburned because he spent every day in the water without sunscreen.

And now, the best is saved for last. Who could resist this pug mug?

Not too bad for an old guy. I'm in it to win it!

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Bitter and Sweet, Fair and Foul, The Best of Times and The Worst of Times

The weekend with my Cape Cod family passed by in a blur. After the greetings, the sniffings, pettings, exclaiming, and passing out of treats, it felt as if I were on a roller coaster ride at warp speed. This visit included, for the first time, Daphne and Cecily whose presence definitely had a great impact on the tone of our weekend. Remembering how I suffered so under Daphne’s reign of terror on the Cape, I let her have it immediately so that there could be no confusion. “This is MY house, bitch” (forgive me but that is the correct form of address for a female dog). After which, I attacked her. I felt so much better but unfortunately it did not deter her from aggressive behavior. She, within a few hours, had established herself as the alpha dog and ruled like a crazed despot.

Cecily resumed her nauseating relationship with Lizzie and they spent their house time cuddling and hiding out together. Whenever there was an altercation with Daphne they would climb into Lizzie’s bed and stare with wide innocent eyes. It sickened me.

On our walks, Daphne always drew attention…probably because she was the non-pug and people, for some strange reason, are drawn to Frenchies. And of course Cecily garnered many pats because she is the only black pug in our posse, which left Lizzard and me virtually invisible…like chopped liver!

While Grandma and Grandpa still lavished treats and attention upon me, I can see how the natural order has been disturbed. Physically, I am not the pug I once was and I am also much crankier and more demanding than ever. I tend to bark incessantly whenever I feel like it and I’m not the playful young pup of yore.  I don’t feel jealous of the newcomers, just mindful of the shift. I guess it is part of the aging process.

When they left Monday, I was surprisingly flat. The apartment was too quiet and we were too dull. But as long as I remain Mom and Dad’s number one pug, then I am content.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Still cutting a fine figure in the dog park

Here I am, trussed up like a turkey in my little back loader.

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Sisterhood of the Traveling Pack, or I’ll Never Understand Females

Just when I thought I had a fairly good handle on the various personalities, positions, and alignments of my pack I get blindsided by aberrant female behavior. Now those of you who are long-time readers of my blog, know of my grudging tolerance /respect for Lizzie. You also know that after nearly three years of living with her I have a pretty clear understanding of how she functions, which is with serious limitations! So, it came as a huge shock when the most recent events unfolded.

This weekend on the Cape was unremarkable in that no parties or outings were scheduled, and we were, for the most part, at home relaxing. On one such day, our little hedgehog Lizzie discovered a neglected marrowbone, still filled with much marrow and redolent of its earthy nest in the yard. She, quietly and unobtrusively, proceeded to work on its juicy treasures, seemingly unnoticed by the rest of the pack. Daphne, however, the nine-month old Frenchie and the bane of my existence, caught a glimpse of this activity and moved over swiftly to take control of said bone. Out of nowhere, with the ferocity of a cougar and the roar of a lion, Lizzie sprang for her. I must say that Daphne and I have gone at one another many times since our arrival, with neither of us backing down, but in this instance she retreated, looking confused and bewildered. Not convinced this was a real response from Lizzie, Daphne again approached and received the same warning. Imagine, dear reader, a very small, round, shy and foolish little pug with probably about five teeth in her head, terrifying a fearless French bulldog. I felt certain I was mistaken in what I had witnessed.

But lo, again a very interesting scene unfolded, involving the three females. Each morning the three of them hop up in an overstuffed chair and do a three-way wrestling activity that can go on for fifteen or twenty minutes. It is fascinating to watch…just the three females…in a very intense but loving ballet. This morning, however, Daphne got a little too intense with Cecily, who then took the maternal role of chastising her a bit with stronger bites and some high-pitched howling. Again, surprising this old veteran of dog play/fights, Lizzie jumped on Cecily’s back, wrapping both front paws around her and began to lick her ears and face in an attempt to comfort her. She sensed how upset Cecily was with Daphne’s rough play. I cannot understand, for the life of me, how these three consistently play, fight, comfort, and then repeat it all again! What is it about being a female that allows such an incredible mood change? Females are the final frontier for this old male.

And there you have it… an observation from a venerable vantage point.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here is how it begins...

And then it escalates a bit.

And then they are all "lovey dovey." Go figure.

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Pug Pack Plus One, or I’m Still the Master of My Domain

Oh, dear reader, you must not construe my long absence as anything more than a much needed transition period and adjustment to our Cape Cod life. Since we are now four, our settling in has taken longer than normal. The irony, however, is that Lizzie and I have not been the ones upsetting the proverbial apple cart. I do believe that we are no longer on trial, as Grandma so cruelly mentioned. I think that Daphne, the nine-month old Frenchie is the (dare I say it?) bone of contention. She is a ferocious alpha bulldog, who is ready to battle at the drop of the first crumb. She has gone for my throat countless times, after which Grandma swiftly carries her into the dark powder room and leaves her for ten seconds as a “time out.”  I don’t know how effective this training method is, but Grandma is fierce in her determination to correct her unacceptable behavior. Wait a minute…this is what I do! At any rate, as long as Daphne (or Daphinator, Daffy, or Doodlebug as she is referred to) and I don’t have food or a bone between us, we co-exist fairly well.

Walks at Eagle Pond are one of our favorite outings and we present quite a picture to fellow dogs and dog walkers, as we troop along the trail at our own pace. I did take a slight detour this weekend, as I was feeling fairly parched from our hike, and left the bridge for the swamp beneath it. While the water was brackish, I drank fully and greedily. When Mom saw me, she shrieked and snatched me up from the muddy quagmire. At home I was immediately bathed and swaddled in a towel. I will never understand why humans are so offended by the sight of muddy paws and their accompanying earthy scent.

Our weekend was absolute perfection…Mom and Dad arrived Friday night, the weather was sublime, food and treats were plentiful, and nights were spent cuddled with the humans we love most.

And yes, my eye continues to heal and the prognosis is good but I will be forced to endure eye drops three times a day for the rest of my life. Oh well, my meals now consist of a bowl of pills and liquids with a few kibbles thrown in for flavor. Such is the fate of a senior pug with many ailments, much like an old human man similarly afflicted.

The good news is that we are becoming a pack, which delights the humans to no end. We mix and match throughout the day but oftentimes we function as one unit. Lizzie, for some reason that I cannot fathom, seems to be the lodestone to which we are all drawn. More on that phenomena later.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Yours truly waiting...always waiting...at Grandma and Grandpa's backdoor.

Here is the pack at Eagle Pond..formidable, aren't we?

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