Tag Archives: paws

Now is the Winter of Our Discontent, or A Pug’s Countdown to Spring

When the apartment door closed behind Mom and Dad this morning, it rang as our vacation’s death knell. That click of the lock resounded loudly and with the finality of a tomb sealing. As you know, dear reader, I am a pug that likes to know that his creature comforts are always close at hand and not a struggle to obtain. This frigid and unrelenting cold has soured my usual sunny disposition, turning me into a needy, whiny, and short-tempered beast. Going outdoors for our toileting requires the outfitting of an artic expedition. First the blasted paw condoms must be fitted over eight resistant paws, then the dreaded sweaters and hoodies pulled and stretched over our heads and bodies, and finally the harnesses and leashes attached on top of the sweaters. By the time Dad gets into his gear, we are exhausted and struggling to hold our water and waste. This is not, I repeat, not the most wonderful time of the year for those of us living in the northeast.

Lizzie and I must find new ways to amuse ourselves and pass these miserable days. We’ve fully explored trash tossing and my penchant for chewing underwear and socks is only a memory of my youth. I’ve told Lizzie all of my embellished tales of glory and horror. Besides, she is hardly a worthy recipient of my intellectual prowess since all she wants to do is cuddle and sleep. So then the question remains, “What is a pug to do?” I am a bit concerned about the upcoming summer on Cape Cod, due to the addition of Grandma and Grandpa’s two dogs. The black pug is a formidable opponent. Like Lizzie she appears docile and meek, but if she senses any affront or attack upon her baby (the Frenchie) then she quickly becomes a snarling, howling killing machine. She caught me off guard several times when I went after Daphne for encroaching upon my food zone. That worries me a bit. The baby is a full blown, spoiled, active and willful toddler. She needs to be taught respect, manners, and boundaries before I can enjoy my idyllic existence there. I guess I need to give some considerable thought to this summer while I am ensconced in my overheated and quiet apartment.

The dog walker is due any minute so I must gird my loins for the donning of apparel, none of which is gay.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Lizzie and I doing what we love doing most...keeping warm on Mom's lap

The fiendish Cecily...looks sweet, doesn't she? But, at the slightest provocation, she becomes a tiger protecting her cub.

And the toddler, gnawing away on a marrowbone that should have been mine. She is an underaged lethal weapon.

Lizzie...the most indolent of all creatures living on the planet. What a ridiculous canine experiment she is. I am surrounded by too many bitches!

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For Pug’s Sake, Grandma, Hurry Back!

As I dictate this entry, my thoughts return to Grandma and her visit this weekend. When she walked through the door Friday afternoon, I was sure that all of my wishes would come true. Seeing the bags she was dragging into the apartment, I knew that at least one item in them would be for Lizzie and me. I could scarcely contain myself, but in true Grandma fashion, she insisted that we go out for a walk before dispensing treats. I wasn’t at all keen on that idea since I knew the danger, pain, and extreme cold facing me. I wanted Grandma to see how well I navigate the streets but the reality of getting salt on my paws, and having to wear the dreaded hooded sweatshirt caused me to break like a little girl. I put away all pretenses of bravery in the face of this pain, and wildly shot out each of my paws while gyrating around on the sidewalk. Grandma, of course, realized the severity of my condition and plucked me up into her arms, cradling me like a baby. During this entire scene, little Miss Perfect Lizzie just kept trotting along without any sign of discomfort. Sometimes she really sickens me!

Home at last! Grandma rooted around in one of her capacious bags and whipped out the mother of all treats…the snack no self-respecting dog of any breed can resist…the smelliest and foulest of goodies…a bully stick, a.k.a., bull pizzle! For those of you, dear readers, who are ignorant of this particular delicacy, look it up on line. Oh boy, oh boy! Lizzie and I retreated to opposite corners, lay down, propped the sticks between our paws and began chewing, shredding, and sucking. What bliss, what joy, what incredible happiness. And then Mom came home…end of fun. She hates these culinary delights and quickly removed them from our jaws.

On Saturday, Grandma and Mom went shopping. Grandma was all buzzed because her sister had told her about a product that protects a dog’s paws from the salt on the sidewalks.  I was not eager to try it since I naturally hate my paws being touched for any reason. You don’t mess with Grandma though, and she proceeded to rub on this waxy stuff. Outdoors I refused to budge, digging my feet in, but Grandma kept yanking me along, and surprise, surprise, there was no pain! How could this be? I was able to resume my normal alpha male walk, attracting the usual admiring looks. Now, I am not a pug who is a promoter of products, but this stuff really works. It is called Mushers and it was developed for teams of huskies in Alaska, so it’s got to be good. It is also used to treat raw and cracked paws.  Now winter is not so unbearable for me.

Grandma left us Sunday and even though she can be tough, I really miss her. She is always ready with a treat, kind words, and a hug. Hurry back to us, Grandma. Mwah!

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

You can see my state of bliss.

You can see my state of bliss.

Little Miss Lizzie doesn't look so lady like now, does she?

Little Miss Lizzie doesn't look so lady like now, does she?

 

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Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair

Sometimes there is no avoiding a line from Shakespeare and this week’s weather brought Macbeth to mind. Now I realize that there will always be days so awful that no self-respecting pug wants to venture out of the warmth and comfort of his home, but since we are dogs we must. I do not like getting my paws wet, hate tramping through slush and mud puddles but Wednesday was ridiculous in Manhattan! I, however, did what I was supposed to do and did it quickly. In this kind of weather, I always wait until we are almost home, then stop, drop, and deposit. My entire toileting takes fifteen seconds tops under such conditions.

Lizzie, on the other hand, is so fussy and delicate she just minces and hops around on the street, avoiding puddles and raindrops, sticking to the innermost part of the sidewalk under the awnings. And, at the end of the walk she has done nothing! Sometimes I just want to bite her because I know what inevitably follows…that’s right, dear reader, she relieves herself on the blanket in the apartment. Disgusting! and I have to share that space with “it” until mom and dad come home. Yes, I’m venting again but there is really no excuse for such silly girlish behavior. And no, I will not wear those ridiculous rubber boots mom got me because she thinks they look so cute.

Until next time…

 

Respectfully submitted,

 

Mason

P.S. Look at some awesome items at: http://www.capecard.net/quapug.html

 

 

 

I chose this photo because I look so appealing. I didn't include Lizzie because...well, that is obvious.

I chose this photo because I look so appealing. I didn't include Lizzie because...well, that is obvious.

 

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