Tag Archives: lobster

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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When The Frost Is On The Pumpkin, or Memories of a Season Well Lived

You know, dear reader, that I am a pug prone to rumination and as my season on Cape Cod draws to a close, I tend to experience each of my favorite things while living here with a bittersweet zest. Perhaps I am not alone in this regard. As I’ve written before, we pugs have an internal clock/calendar that guides us into seasonal changes and senses the passage of time.

When Grandma gives me a “bully stick” now, I attack it with a passion and fervor unlike earlier months. When Grandma mixes up my kibbles and pumpkin, I become wild with anticipation. When Grandpa asks, “Do you guys want to come with me to the bank/post office/library?” I respond immediately and as if it were my last trip on this earth. Even our morning and evening toileting has a poignancy unlike any other time. There is an organic quality to using the woods that we miss in the city. Everything is sweeter…the clams, the lobster remains, carrots, kitty crullers (to borrow from an observant reader my favorite new phrase for this delicacy), naps, walks, boat trips, swims in the ocean, and just being with the old folks (sorry Grandma and Grandpa).

I am not a pug that takes his life for granted; I know how fortunate I am. I don’t know if goofy Lizzie is cognizant of her blessings, because she barely knows what day of the week it is, but I am mindful always. I even enjoy Lizzie more than I could even imagine. And as I say that, please bear in mind that I haven’t crossed over into the dark side. I am just saying that this season of change has intensified everything for me. I have a picture in mind of returning on our last boat outing this past weekend, sitting in Mom’s arms, up tight against Lizzie, in the bow of the boat. The air was cool, our backs were against the wind, and the gentle motion of the boat lulled us both to sleep in the safest cocoon imaginable.

No more sentimental or mawkish thoughts from me…

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

This is for all of you who simply must have a seasonal shot...you can see my level of disinterest.

This is for all of you who simply must have a seasonal shot...you can see my level of disinterest.

I think this is a nicer shot of yours truly, and shows Lizzie to be the true loser that she is.

I think this is a nicer shot of yours truly, and shows Lizzie to be the true loser that she is.

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