Now It’s My Turn

Hi Everybody!

It’s Lizzie. Mason decided to take a little vay-cay from writing today (he said his brain needed a rest and that he wasn’t feeling inspired). I don’t know about that but it really has been a long time since I last wrote a blog, hasn’t it?

For a pug, my life is wonderful, filled with much happiness and love, even though Mason would argue about that. Mason doesn’t seem to understand that I really do wish him well and that my world is topsy-turvy when he is away or unwell. That E-collar business was awful! I know he accused me of being false, but that is untrue. I was so worried when he went to the doctor that when he returned, I tried to cover him with kisses, nuzzling, and love. He would have nothing to do with me as I sniffed his doctor office scent and tried to comfort him. He is always acting the tough guy but I know he really loves the attention. As far as my stealing his marrowbones, that is not true either. I was merely putting them in a safe place until his recovery. Since he couldn’t chew with that huge collar on his neck, I put them in my bed so he wouldn’t feel frustrated every time he saw them.

And when he had to visit the surgeon on Cape Cod, I was really worried and anxious…so much so that on the trip back to NYC, I jumped up on the new rolled up carpet in the car to be near Mom and Dad. I needed comfort and Mason just assumed I was trying take them away from him. Mason says I can make truth out of fiction, if it suits my purposes. I think that is mean and untrue. Mason is always seeing the worst in people and pets.

Oh well, the thing is Mason has recovered and doesn’t need surgery, which makes me very happy. I know he thinks I am an idiot and a silly goose, but so what? I do love our pug contest on Facebook, and I think all of you who have sent in photos are wonderful and beautiful and brave! I think you all are winners, despite Mason’s sour view of life. He means well but he can’t help being a grouch sometimes. I think it is a guy kind of thing. He says, “Lizzie, you need to go to the mailbox and get your reality check. It must be here today!” I have no idea what he means so I just keep a low profile and take a nap.

Thanks for listening…until next time

Pugs and kisses,

Lizzie

This was taken right before Mason's appointment with the surgeon. You can see my worried expression.

A Pug’s Wish List, or “Please Sir, I Want Some More.” (Charles Dickens)

Well, dear reader, it is the time of year when all pugs, whether they be Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or atheist, turn their thoughts to what gifts they would most like to receive. And to that end, I’ve spent my leisure time (read, alone in my apartment) compiling what I believe is a very thoughtful and thorough list of what most pugs honestly desire as gifts.

I’ve consulted with Lizzie briefly because, quite frankly, her wishes are so nauseating that I’ve had to edit out most of them. Here, then, is our ultimate wish list:

1. A steady supply of meaty, moist marrowbones without any imposed restrictions on frequency or location of their consumption. I will growl, snarl, and run away when approached while I am consuming.

2. One night, for just me and my mom…no Lizzie, no Dad…just me, enjoying some snacks and QT (quiet time) with her on the couch, watching TV or napping together.

3. Unlimited time in Grandma’s kitchen, while she prepares a huge feast, tossing me bits of whatever she prepares. Without any interlopers. Just me.

4. A leisurely stroll through Eagle Pond Preserve, where I can take as much time to sniff out interesting odors, wander off the trails, and lift my leg as often as I please without being urged to move forward.

5. An entire day riding around with Grandpa while he does errands that involve treats being doled out at every stop.

6. An excellent bully stick of extraordinary length and width…something a man pug can really sink his teeth into.

7. No salt on the sidewalks so that I am not forced into wearing the dreaded “paw condoms.”

8. Pizza night every night of the week, with the lion’s share going to yours truly.

9. No more toenail trims. Enough said.

10. Receiving treats I’ve never tasted before but will love immediately.

And there you have it…a thoughtful, respectable, and inexpensive wish list for this holiday season from a pug named Mason (and minimally Lizzie).

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Pleading Pug. How could you not make his holiday wishes come true?

Look at that fool, Lizzie. She has the classic "lights on, nobody's home" look, with all her legs in the air. If you knew her Christmas wishes, you'd shudder.

What’s Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander, or You’ve Taught Me Well, Mason

Oh my, it is so weird being back in NY and living our NY life, but change is not so difficult for me. I think Mason has a harder time adjusting to a new schedule, rules, and environment. As long as I have a cozy spot on the couch or bed, tasty food, walkies, and cuddling time with Mom or Dad, I am fine. I think because Mom feels so bad about taking us away from the Cape she may have overdone the treats. What I mean is she gave us too many marrowbones and pizzles. Mason will kill me when he reads this!

Mom supplied us with the juiciest marrowbones and biggest pizzles ever last week, and Mason did what he always does…steal and hoard. I mean really, Mason, there were enough treats for an entire kennel of dogs! Because I am becoming smarter and stronger, I decided to take what I’ve learned from him and then apply it to the situation. So, when he wasn’t looking I took every marrowbone and pizzle, hauled them into my bed, and then crawled in with them. Mason came back into the room, looking all over for the treats, and then saw me chewing on one in my bed, surrounded by the entire lot of them. He came toward me as if to grab one and I let loose with the most threatening barking and growling I could muster up. Mom came running in to scold Mason and then froze in her tracks when she saw I was the one holding Mason at bay. I watched Mason look at her for help and then I felt bad, like I always do. He really is clueless…he just doesn’t get that a girl like me can be so fierce and aggressive. But guess what, he did back off and leave me alone.

The story doesn’t end here though. Yesterday, after Grandma left, Mom hauled out the most beautiful marrowbones ever, giving one to me and one to Mason. Because I really wasn’t interested in chewing at that time, I stayed curled up on the couch where I had a pretty good view of everything going on the room. Mason, thinking I was asleep and that Mom and Dad were busy doing something else, took his bone over to his bed and buried it under the pad. He even patted it down so it didn’t show so much and then, without a moment’s hesitation, he hopped into my bed and began chewing on my bone. Isn’t he the trickiest pug you’ve ever known? I giggled to myself because he thinks he is the master of his domain, but I saw the whole thing.

I guess you could say our days, even though we’re alone a lot, are never dull.

Love,

Lizzie

Grandma took this photo Sunday morning at Tompkins Sq. Park. This is what Mason is sometimes. Hahahaha.

I feel so bad about the last picture I had to include this one of us by a flower stall.

A Nip in The Air, A Bone in The Grass…Pug’s Delight

Were I a skilled artist, I would paint a canvas using vivid oranges, reds, yellows, and rich greens, browns, and purples. I cannot begin to understand why I wax poetic once September makes an appearance, but suddenly the nights become cool so that Grandma must close the windows and doors, the mornings require sweatshirts, the sun’s rays reach the earth in a way that pleases both humans and animals, a dry, crisp breeze blows steadily, redolent with the scent of smoke and dying leaves.

For a pug it is the time of most intense and exquisite pleasure. I awaken with a new vigor, greet the day with wild abandon, enjoy my breakfast of squash and kibbles with a long missed passion, and am ready to embrace the ground upon which I walk with gratitude and joy. To take a large marrowbone outside at this time of year is to lose oneself completely in the simple task of emptying its treasures.

On one such day I lost time and myself. Grandma, for the first time ever, had to come and carry me in for supper. After dinner I demanded to be let back out so I could again pursue my soothing activity. I suspect Grandma forgot about me because she didn’t come for me until bedtime. A beautiful new moon had risen, the owls had started hooting, the grass was wet with dew, and yet I remained stretched out on the grass savoring the juices of my effort.

While I was reluctant to leave my spot, the night air was making me unusually sleepy. These nights bring the deepest most satisfying sleep and some mornings  I now must be awakened for breakfast. Some of you will ask yourselves why an old curmudgeon of a pug would write such a sensitive blog today, and I must confess that I don’t really have a clue. Maybe I feel sentimental because my time on Cape Cod is drawing to a close, the weather is changing, or I know winter cannot be far behind. Any one of or all of these reasons will suffice. I am a multi-faceted pug who likes to savor the bounties of Mother Nature.

Tonight my mom and dad arrive for the long weekend and we’ve so much planned for their visit. Happy Labor Day, dear reader!

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. In case you think I’ve lost my edge, Lizzie is still a fool.

Here I am with the mother bone, warning Grandma to keep away.

I like this view because you can see how skilled I am with managing large objects.

Here I am in the full September sun enjoying myself and wishing Grandma would just leave me alone!

Look at that fool Lizzie. This is what she does in September sun...what a waste.