Pilgrim Pugs in PTown, or Where No Pug Is A Stranger

For those of you uninitiated to the pleasures and sheer delight of Provincetown, let me give you a pug’s eye view. This spectacular little town at the very tip of Cape Cod never fails to charm, seduce, and captivate both people and pugs. It is the repository of all things bizarre, wonderful, and indulgent. Here a pug can receive hugs and kisses from women who look like men and men who look like women.  In PTown all the lines are blurred and a pug can truly receive the attention, love, and adulation he so rightfully deserves! It is also the most pet friendly place on the planet.

We drove out Sunday, and while the weather wasn’t terribly encouraging, we all knew fun was about to be had. Lizzie and I napped in the car while Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa had brunch at the Lobster Pot on Commercial Street. For Mom it is her favorite journey. After they were finished we were fetched for the traditional stroll up Commercial Street. The street was thronged with revelers who were undaunted by the steady rain. For a pug, this is a tricky condition. One must navigate carefully or risk getting stepped upon. Of course the air is filled with the scent of seafood, fried bread, fudge, and ice cream…an intoxicating cocktail for yours truly.

Along the way we received the usual attention from every sort of human imaginable. Dogs were everywhere and there was a lot of butt-sniffing and circling. Our first stop was the pet store, where Mom purchased darling iced dog cookies for us, which we ate outside on their little platform. As we moved along, we attracted many admiring looks, responses, and pats. What a glorious day, but I fear not for the reluctant Lizzie. She, as I’ve stated before, has no game and never will. People and other dogs like her because she is so tiny and saccharine, which nauseates me. One woman told my grandmother that she knew immediately that I was “the man” because she had never seen such a swagger or such a “butch” dog. I rest my case, dear reader.

 I will be writing daily, I think, since so much is happening here and Grandma is so accessible. With so much exposure, I hope you don’t lose interest in my ramblings.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here Lizzie and I are wedged in MY bed. She grabbed it when we got in the car for the return trip, so I just climbed in too! The nerve of that fool dog!

 

I know, it's not a shot of me but I thought for those of you unfamiliar with low tide in PTown, it is worth a look.

The Yin and Yang of Pugs, by Lizzie

Mason really didn’t feel like writing today and I did, so he very generously offered me his space. I think his exact words were, “Go ahead, make a fool of yourself. It won’t be the first or the last time you do.”  He even suggested this title after I told him what I wanted to write about. I hope it makes sense. What a silly old grumpus he is, but I love him dearly.

 I think Mason and I are so different in our personalities, interests, and habits that I’ve decided those differences are what make us work as a pair. It is also interesting that Mason pretty much assumes I am slow witted and timid, and therefore not a real pug by his definition. I admit it, I am slow and I am shy but maybe people and pugs shouldn’t be so quick to judge a book by its cover. He still hasn’t gotten over the night that I took his beloved little bear from him and put it in my bed. I’m not  sure why I did it either, but at the time, it felt really good. I know Mason was upset and confused, which made me feel a little sad, but not enough to return it. He did retrieve it later but I was over the moment.

 Mason hates the heat and suffers so much when he gets hot. His panting and discomfort are  awful to watch. I, on the other hand, love to curl up either in the house or outdoors, wherever the sun is brightest. I adore sunbathing. Mom thinks I’m more like a cat in that regard. I love burrowing under the blankets, up close to Mason or my parents…the more heat, the better.

 I do not like crowds of people – they scare me – and so I hide away someplace quiet and safe. Mason, however, loves crowds and will always go where there is the most action. He tells me he has game and I have none, whatever that means. He can always make me laugh at some of the stuff he says. A lot of it I don’t even understand and that makes him laugh! He calls me a fool, which is okay because I know he really loves me, and I call him my hero. I don’t think he really minds that though.

 Food comes first for Mason, but for me it is and always will be love and hugs. To cuddle up with Mason, Mom or Dad is the very best treat in the world. I know Mason will make fun of what I’ve written, saying it has no focus, no conclusion, is too sappy, and isn’t literate, but I say “vive la difference!”  See, Mason, I know some stuff too.

 

 Pugs and kisses,

 

 Lizzie

 

Here I am, on Dad's lap having a nap. I look like such a baby, don't I?

 

Here I am sunbathing on the terrace. Mason says I should be ashamed of myself because I look like a frog and not a pug.

 

 

 

 

 

TGMGC, or Thank God My Grandma’s Coming

Do you remember in Mary Poppins, how the chimney sweep announced the arrival of a new strong wind, blowing from a different direction, which served as a metaphor for Mary Poppins’ appearance at the Banks household? Well, dear reader, the same analogy pertains for the upcoming arrival of my grandma this weekend. She, like Mary Poppins, brings much needed change into our little household and of course, a great traveling bag (see my entry “Pugs and Kisses For Grandma, Jan. 2009).

 Because I am a thinking pug, as well as a highly sensitive one, I am aware of the whispered conversations concerning Grandma’s upcoming visit. Lizzie, however, sheltered within her cocoon of oblivion and insensitivity, hasn’t a clue. I have been mentally composing a wish list of Grandma treats for this visit…something with yams, duck, or buffalo…or maybe a yummy knucklebone from the butcher. I know that Grandma will sweep me up in her arms, exclaiming over my beauty, smothering me with hugs and kisses that I will patiently endure, while waiting for the presentation of gifts. This will be further delayed because Lizzie also will have to be fussed over, which will take even longer because that fool dog actually loves this part the most! During this, I will strike a pose with my tight little tail twitching wildly, eyes beseechingly glued to Grandma’s face, while sending subliminal messages for her to put Lizzie down and dig into that bag of treats. Fortunately for me, Grandmas reads and understands signals well. She will look at me and say something like, “Does my little Mason man want his treat now?” And I will begin twirling around and vibrating all over, with eyes bulging dangerously. Just seeing her reach into the treat bag nearly sends me over the edge.

 This is how I have lulled myself to sleep each night this week, replaying that most perfect of moments and all of the foreplay leading up to it. Ah, Grandma, please get here safely and quickly Friday.

 

Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

Could any grandma resist this face? I think not!