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

 

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?

Bah Humbug! This Pug Has Had Enough

Well, dear reader, my absence from the blog world indicates nothing more than the arrival of my usual low period preceding the holidays, and this year is worse than usual. Above and beyond my usual despondency is the overwhelming influx of negative energy. And by that I mean, the arrival last Friday of Grandma and Grandpa’s “little bundle of joy” (aka Cecily), or in my view, their “sack of coal.” She arrived wound tighter than a spring, black as pitch, panting wildly and breathing stentoriously…not what I’d call an auspicious beginning. Going out for a walk with her was nearly as challenging as it was with Lizzie on her first night in the city. And then there is the added difficulty of her invisibility at night. I’m afraid that  black pugs just don’t work for yours truly. They seem a breed apart from fawns, the real pugs.

To compound my growing resentment, this female upstart had the unmitigated nerve to attack me in MY HOME during meal preparation! Can you believe that? She was fierce too! You would think that Lizzard would have risen to my defense, but no, in true Lizzard fashion she booked it into the living room, begging not to be involved, and waited out the melee. It is of no concern to me that this Cecily has never been in a city before or that she was uprooted from her kennel and kennel mates just three weeks ago.

I was not sorry to see her leave on Saturday morning. I did, however, require much more than the usual quality time with Mom. She was at work part of the day Saturday but we cuddled a good deal that afternoon.  What she doesn’t understand though, is that I need a lot more from her than ever before. Monday mornings send me into a crashing depression and cause me to behave abysmally. I know she must leave for work and yet knowing that, I still demand more of her. Due to her new job she has even less time than before, which means again, I am receiving the short end of the stick. Further complicating this scenario of misery is my knowing that Grandma and Grandpa now have the new Frenchie (Daphne), in addition to crazy Cecily.

And so, for those of you who have reason to be of good cheer this holiday season, I say “bully for you!” I, for one, only can anticipate a wildly chaotic visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s while a teething Frenchie tears through the house and a black pug who wiggles and snorts, become the center of everyone’s attention.

I finally understand the Grinch.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Just look at how comfortable those two females are with MY SPACE!

You can easily guess my mood by my body language. Sign me "down and out in Manhattan."

Alright, here it is…the photo of baby Daphne. Grandma said she wouldn’t post my blog today if I didn’t give her space too. Whatever! (to borrow from lame Lizzie).