Tag Archives: morning

The Reluctant Diner, or I’m Just Not That Into Food

Mason asked me to write this blog because he is so embarrassed by what he calls my “aberrational behavior, “ whatever that means. He calls me a disgrace to my breed, a pug with no “raison d’etre,” another term I don’t know, and says I am someone he is ashamed to share space with.

See, this is the problem and honestly, I don’t understand why it upsets him so, but when I am wakened in the morning, taken out to do my business, and then given my food, I have no appetite yet. I am not a morning pug at all. If I were given a choice, I would sleep the entire day! I love my pug nest and I am just not ready to leave it as early as Mason is his. Mason wakes up with guns cocked, ready to get outside, then rush into the kitchen and gobble down his breakfast. By the time I wander downstairs, Mason has done everything and is already sitting posed near the table, begging for scraps. I love to say a leisurely good morning to everyone, kiss Mason, and cuddle in Grandpa’s lap before going outside. Mason has no patience for me and tries to push me away so his concentration isn’t broken.

After I come inside, my breakfast is put before me, and since I really have no appetite yet and don’t want to disappoint Grandma and Grandpa, I just stand in front of my bowl, staring at it. Mason hovers behind me, hoping someone will tell him it is okay to eat my food. Sometimes the cats come too and watch me. All of this makes me very nervous.

I want to please Grandma and Grandpa but I’m just not hungry, so some mornings I stand there for 15 minutes before I am able to even take a bite and some mornings I can’t eat at all.

So, you can only imagine how angry Mason is with me, particularly those of you who read him regularly. Mason believes that life is about getting and eating food. Everything he does is about those two goals. He is patient, impatient, tricky, sweet, funny, angry, and probably other things I can’t even think of, but all of these things are about getting food (he would say “the acquisition of victuals”).

Well, thanks for listening everyone, and I wish I could write about wonderful things like Mason does, but I’m just not that clever or interested.

Have a great day!

Lizzie

P.S. Guess what??? My mom and dad come today for a visit. I am so excited!

You can see I have a big audience which gives me stagefright.

You can see I have a big audience which gives me stage fright.I'm looking at Grandpa, hoping he'll say I may be excused.

I sniff at it...

I sniff at it...

but I just don't want it.

but I just don't want it.

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Mistakes Were Made, or I’ll Take A Pug Latte, Please

Alas and alack, I fear yesterday did not begin auspiciously for yours truly and his consort, Lightweight Lizzie. There was nothing unusual about the morning, except that Dad decided to chill the coffee after it brewed. As most of you probably know, a glass pitcher may not be the wisest choice of container for scalding hot coffee. To add to this unwise decision, he then placed it in the refrigerator. Now you must understand that mornings at our house are pretty hectic; what with walking Lizzard and me, then feeding and medicating us, showering, dressing, making coffee and lunch, and racing to the subway, it is pretty much a foregone conclusion that mistakes will be made.

 After the feeding, we like to hang about in the kitchen, waiting for the possible crumb, accident, or  treat. Lizzie was standing quite close to Dad’s leg when tragedy struck. I, however, in my infinite wisdom, had the good sense to stand back from the immediate scene, affording me a better vantage point for assessing everyone’s activity.  Knowing I have the reflexes of a wild cat and can move in swiftly when speed is necessary, allowed me a degree of comfort and confidence. You have to wonder about the random nature of the universe when something unexpected, like what happened next, occurs. Mom opened the refrigerator door, noticed coffee leaking, I observed that Lizzie had moved too close to Mom for my liking and I assumed she was being offered a treat. Mom picked up the pitcher, whose bottom immediately fell away onto the floor, spilling copious amounts of lukewarm coffee  all over Lizzie, as I lunged for her throat in an attempt to wrest from her the treat I imagined she had scored. Only Brueghel could have painted a more disturbing scene!

 It was late, my parents had to dash, and I saw poor miserable Lizzie receive a hasty toweling. I am afraid she was forced to spend the rest of the day drenched in caffeine. What a pity it hadn’t been hot fudge sauce, gravy, or raw eggs. I have no interest in coffee so I couldn’t even lick her. Oh, and there is also the piece about my going for her. No, there was no treat; she was just an unsuspecting victim of a morning disaster. I did feel sorry for her but truly she does go into this bizarre zone where she loses all sense of time or place.

 Well, dear reader, you can see the paucity of excitement in our pug lives since I must resort to reporting such a morning.

 Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

I had to show you this even though it has nothing to do with the incident. Lizzie sleeping on the Sunday New York Times...what an inspiring pug!

I had to show you this even though it has nothing to do with the incident. Lizzie sleeping on the Sunday New York Times...what an inspiring pug!

 

I think the contrast is fairly obvious. You will never catch me sleeping on the NY Times!

I think the contrast is fairly obvious. You will never catch me sleeping on the NY Times!

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