Tag Archives: Manhattan

Pug: $2,000, Vet Bills: $10,000, Pug Food: $5,000, Cost of Living in NYC: Astronomical, Mom and Dad’s Love: Priceless.

After a week’s hiatus I am ready to resume my musings for you, dear reader. Re-entry into the hustle and bustle of Manhattan takes some adjustment for yours truly. Getting back my city streets mojo is a far cry from living our pastoral type of existence on Cape Cod, but I’m feeling my old self again and ready to rant, rave, and whine.

Of course the real bonus in this is being wrapped nightly in my Mom’s arms and then knowing that when I awaken in the morning she will still be pressed against me, no matter how many moves I make during the night. That feeling of security is beyond compare…well, maybe a nice juicy marrowbone comes close, but no, not really. I am able to survive our long days alone in the apartment because I know my mom will be home in the evening, ready to reclaim our emotional connection.

This weekend was spectacular because we had long outings to Tompkins Square Park, cuddles on the couch, and a primo bull pizzle, which Lizzie and I consumed on our terrace. Life is good for us, I must confess. The only issue I currently have is the lack of comestibles in our NY home. At Grandma’s there was always a steady, flavorful, and diverse supply of treats. Grandma was mindful of fulfilling our palate’s constant jonesing for an amuse-bouche. I do miss those daily samplings and the heavenly aromas emanating from Granny’s big kitchen.

In the grander scheme, I am quite content and have been reminded this week of the old Simon and Garfunkel song lyrics:

Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

Mom, your little man is happy to be home again.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

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Just couldn't resist including this shot since it shows me at my finest...working on a lobster claw. Happy times!

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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

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Our last day on the Cape...

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Our final lobster dinner

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Lizzie going for the last drop.

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Look at me going for my last taste!

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And, our last boat trip....

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I Hear Your Voice

“I hear your voice-(call)

your voice (call)

your voice (call)

the way it used to do

I feel my heart (fall)

my heart (fall)

I try to keep you off my mind

but every time I do, I hear your voice”    Lionel Richie

I am not a huge fan of pop music, dear reader, but today Lionel says it best.

This morning, while Grandma and Grandpa were having breakfast, my mom phoned (which she does on a daily basis), and Grandma decided to put her call on speakerphone so that I could hear her easily. I cannot even begin to describe my response. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. In the past, Grandma has put the phone up to my ear for these chats with Mom, but they always frighten and disturb me. This, however, brought my mom’s voice right into the room, as if she were there. I must admit that I looked around for her but without any success. I really don’t understand how her voice can be so immediate and clear, and yet she not be there physically. All I know is that hearing her unleashed a torrent of emotion and longing. I was fine until that call.

Now I cannot stop thinking about her. Grandma reassures me that she and Dad are arriving on Friday for the weekend and that Lizzie and I will be returning to Manhattan with them for the winter. That news also triggered another emotional outpouring. While I am excited and thrilled to be with my parents, the thought of leaving Grandma and Grandpa is tearing my little pug heart apart.

I do know, however, that Lizzie and I have a great capacity for adjustment to change. We are highly adaptable creatures; otherwise we could not live these two separate lives so well.

Trite but true axiom: when one door closes, another always opens. This is my last week on the Cape and I plan to suck all the marrow from the remaining time before my NYC apartment door opens.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

A bittersweet time for us.

A bittersweet time for us.

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Pugs Gone Wild or Down and Dirty in Manhattan

It is has a very dry spell for me, dear reader, since Grandma was called to San Diego on an emergency for two weeks. She is my transcriber and without her, I have no voice. So, no worries…I am back with words unwritten and thoughts unspoken.

 In the spring a young (or more mature) pug’s fancy lightly turns to digging in the earth.  I do apologize for the brutal paraphrasing of Tennyson’s “Locksley Hall” but spring is finally in the air for us poor northeastern beasts. Mom took Lizzie and me to the park on the East River this Saturday and we certainly took time to smell the flowers…not only to smell them but also to dig them up! Lizzie and I could not stop digging and flinging dirt with wild abandon. What a glorious time for us. I know Mom was beside herself since she has no idea what would cause a normally decorous and dignified adult male pug to give in to the most primal animal urge. Digging releases all kinds of pent up winter emotions, allowing us pugs to connect with our inner dog. No, we aren’t looking for bones, garbage, or dead rodents…just inhaling Mother Nature’s bounty. We love dirt, we love its smell as it awakens in the spring, we love throwing it about, and we, literally, just dig it. There is no deep, meaningful purpose associated with this activity. We are just pugs experiencing our version of spring fever.

 So, with the coming of spring I know that moving to the Cape for the summer cannot be far behind. Oh happy day!

 More later….

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason 

 

Look at us last summer on an island, looking for clams to dig

Look at us last summer on an island, scanning the beach for clams.

 

Here's another from the archives...I can hardly wait!

Here's another from the archives...I can hardly wait!

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Pugpourri – Random Thoughts From A Thoughtful Pug

Since I don’t feel cranky, curmudgeonly, or cantankerous, I really can’t rant about anything today. On the other hand, I don’t feel especially happy, upbeat, or warm and fuzzy. So, that begs the question…what is a pug to do? I came up with the idea of just “twittering” some random thoughts and observations.

 It’s nice having Lizzie. I can blame her for most everything that goes wrong in my life and still enjoy her company when I choose to.

 I stopped punishing Mom today and let her love me the way she used to, by lying in her lap, on my back, legs akimbo, and wallowing in her loving ministrations.

 Even though I’ve had frosty paws this week, I can feel and smell spring. I know it will explode without warning any day.

 I am not a fan of play dates. They are for the parents, not the dogs.

 I am comforted by attacking my stuffed bear. He serves as a pacifier when I am frustrated or a passive victim when I need to prove my virility.

 Why do we need baths? We’re pugs and as such should be allowed to smell gamey and oily.  I like the post bath treat though.

 What good does it serve to bathe a pug, then put his filthy harness back on, and let him return to his stinky bed?

 Walks are special for pugs…a time for bonding with Mom or Dad…so then why do they talk on their cell phones during our outing?

 Why do we have to wait to be fed? Why can’t we eat whenever we feel hungry?

 I like to fantasize about joining up with a pack of wild pugs…ones that are ferocious and predatory, roaming the streets of lower Manhattan.

 People always ask, “What do pugs want?” The answer is simple, folks, FOOD!

 

I apologize for my lack of focus today but sometimes a twitter is better than a squawk.

 

Respectfully submitted,

 

Mason

 

A typical day...Lizzie is acting like a fool and I'm thinking deep thoughts.

A typical day...Lizzie is acting like a fool and I'm thinking deep thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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