This is a tale of two pugs…one good and one extremely bad. Surrounded by treachery, deceit, and disrespect I am forced to dredge up Rodney Dangerfield’s most famous tag line and apply it to my situation. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating…Lizzie is a sly puss, a tricky little minx, and not the innocent everyone believes her to be. She is the enemy, make no mistake about that, and even though I am physically limited (hence my undoing), I have experience, intelligence, and patience.
Let me explain. Last week, on a particularly boring afternoon, one where napping and restless pacing weren’t a viable option for either of us, Lizzie decided she would violate the holy of holies, that she would take the one sacred object of mine which even my parents are loath to touch…my little bear. If you recall, from an ancient blog, I have honed my shaping skills to such a fine art that Little Bear sports an exquisite belly Mohawk of unyielding stiffness. He is a prized source of comfort and release. Lizzie is well aware of his revered and inviolate status, and yet, on this day, she chose to transgress.
In her perversity she made a subversive foray into Little Bear’s safe zone, i.e. my bed. Snatching him up in her foul little mouth she trotted across the living room to the ottoman, where she nimbly sprung up onto its surface. Knowing full well I can no longer perform that maneuver due to the degeneration of my hindquarters, she proceeded to maul it wantonly in my presence. Horror of horrors…I thought my heart would burst with pain and anguish. How could she be so cruel? How could she defile this precious object with such casual abandon? At that moment I wished only to save Little Bear from her vile mouth and then destroy her. Unfortunately I could do neither.
At the appointed time of Mom’s return from work, that little she-devil pranced to the door, wagging and wiggling wildly. Mom, of course, greeted her effusively asking what she was so excited about and, I can scarcely believe it as I retell it, that evil strumpet led Mom to the ottoman where Little Bear lay. Mom wanted to believe, for a split second, that I had regained the use of my hind legs and had been able to make the leap. She was sure Lizzie was excited about my recovery. But, as you and I both know, Lizzie of the black heart and treacherous soul was seeking approval for the coup of her lifetime.
I am down but certainly not done. Vengeance is mine and I need only to wait for the perfect opportunity to rain down a revenge of epic proportions on this false pug. Patience and time.