There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

This venerable old pug is hanging up his rucksack, lining up his meds, fluffing up his bed, and resting his dogs…so to speak. My wandering is over for some time, and while I had an action-packed summer it is time to relax in my new digs and resume my “master of the house” role.

With the addition of two more dogs to our pack, I don’t mind admitting that I’m exhausted…both mentally and physically. Daphne, the Frenchie, would try the patience of a saint and with her indefatigable energy and aggression, I was tried sorely on a daily basis. She was territorial, quarrelsome, and fast. In my youth perhaps I could have provided her a worthy opponent, but at my age and with my infirmities I had neither the ability nor interest. Cecily was as insipid and obsequious as Lizzie, so you can only imagine how those two huddled and cuddled together. Lizzie is still suffering the pangs of separation. Oh boo hoo, Lizzie. Cry me a river.

So, our summer was of a different tone and tenor this year, but the good news is that no one suffered any health issues (except for my ongoing eye treatments).

Our new home involves an upstairs bedroom, where Lizzie and I must be carried each evening for bed (if not, I set up a most fearful and annoying barking) because the stairs are open and way too steep for either of us to navigate. We love having the additional bedroom/office because now we can replicate those blissful days with Grandpa spent sleeping in little beds under his desk.

Because Mom has been sick since we returned, we’ve had some wonderful days spent caring for her at home; for us that translates into couch time on and under blankets with our patient.

While this isn’t the most newsworthy blog, at least you have been brought up to date with our whereabouts and activities. I will next regale you with more stories from our life in Gotham.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Day of departure...I ruined Grandma's photo op...but I think I'm pretty cute

The acceptable version

Looks innocent, doesn't she? You would be fooled if you believe that.

You Can Go Home, or To Every Season There Is A Purpose

Forgive the ruminations of a sentimental old pug, but I find it comforting to recall the life I just left behind. Lizzie and I now are ensconced in our Manhattan apartment, napping and waiting for our new dog walker to arrive for our afternoon outing. It is hard to believe the dramatic change we’ve undergone within the past twenty-four hours.

We love being with Mom and Dad again but, like anything in this life, there is a tradeoff. We lose the natural beauty of our surroundings on the Cape, the freedom of running or sleeping outdoors without leashes, and having human company all day long. In NYC, we are alone during the day (except for the dog walker’s two visits), our walks are on leashes on the sidewalk but at least the smells are intoxicating, our apartment is small but at night we sleep with Mom and Dad. In either case we gain and we lose something.

I miss Grandma and Grandpa and all of our car outings, I miss visiting Chloe, I miss going out on the boat, I miss clamming, and I miss evenings in front of the fire.  I love, however, waking up in bed with Mom and Dad and having that extra cuddle time in the morning, I love weekends walking to Thompkins dog park, I love napping on the sofa with Mom on a Sat. or Sun. afternoon, and I love sharing a pizza with Dad.

Both lives are wonderful and we are extremely fortunate but I still hate goodbyes. Lizzie is an idiot and will cuddle with any warm body, so I don’t think she cares where she lays her head. I, however, am extremely mindful of my surroundings and always suffer from dramatic change syndrome.

If you see us walking around the Lower East Side, stop and say hello. We miss all of our friendly faces on the Cape.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Our last day on the Cape...

Our final lobster dinner

Lizzie going for the last drop.

Look at me going for my last taste!

And, our last boat trip....