Buffalo Pizzle, A Gentle Breeze, and Good Company

Something about the weather, the angle of the sun, the relaxed atmosphere that led Grandma to the cupboard for our stash of buffalo pizzles…They are stinky, foul smelling items but to us the greatest treat in the world. Daphne, of course, as our leader, would never dream of joining us on the grass for these delicacies. She always separates herself from the pack…something about maintaining a certain discipline and distance I think. She will inhale hers while we are still sucking and chewing away. Poor old Cecily though…because she is both blind and deaf, she loses hers easily and then she wanders around trying to find it. Grandma always keeps one eye on her though so she doesn’t harm herself.

What a summer this has been for us Fresh Air Fund dogs…the most fun of all is playing Treibball with Daphne. Actually, it is Daphne who herds the ball and we just chase her, barking crazily. it is exhausting because she is so fast, chasing that ball through the woods, around trees, up and down little hills, all the while howling and screaming at it like a foxhound on the scent. When Grandma and Grandpa say we’ve had enough, we collapse with our little sides heaving and our tongues going in and out so fast from panting…but it is the greatest thing ever!

I know some great big dogs are coming tonight and that worries me a bit…two Bernese Mountain dogs, and one huge Labrador…Grandma says she will make sure we are safe though. It is going to be really quiet in NY when we return, but at least Maisie and I have each other during the days.

Last night Grandma had a few leftover scraps of salmon to add to our dinner. The smell was driving us mad and the taste was out of this world…wouldn’t mind having that every night!.

I’ve included some photos of our pizzle party and a video of us playing Treibball…

Until next time,

Phillip

 

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.

Lord of My Things…The Pug Possessive Case

The day was simply gorgeous. We saw the sun for the first time in many days and I, for one, was ready to snag my quota of Vitamin D. Grandma helped me in that endeavor by supplying me with a “Bully Stick” of handsome proportions.

With no interest in the activities of anyone else or curiosity about the doings of Lizzie, I trotted forth into the back yard, found my spotlight of sun, lowered myself onto the grass, and began the laborious process of consuming this braided beast.

I lost all track of time and it was only when I began the dreaded gagging and choking that Grandma appeared, falsely praising me for my fine efforts. I know from past history that when she takes that tone and utters those words, that I am about to be separated from my prized possession. I replied with threatening gurgles and rumbles through tightly clenched teeth, warning her away from me. She, undaunted, proceeded to pluck me up and wrench it from my jaws. It was beautiful, honed to slimy perfection…one end still hard and intact, and the other a viscera-like Udon noodle of bull pizzle. How could she be so cruel? I was so happy. So what if I choked and gagged a bit? Foiled again by my cruel summer mistress.

Now, here comes the crushing irony in my cautionary tale. The next time I was outside I hid that little piece of heaven back in the woods, so that at a later date I might enjoy its forbidden pleasure. Wouldn’t you know it though, that little ditsy pea brain Lizzie found it, took it onto the deck and proceeded to enjoy it herself. In all of her glorious stupidity, the little twit just assumed it was hers…left for her by the pizzle fairies!

Life can be so unfair at times.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here I am with the prize...making the stride of pride. This is an earlier bully stick...not the one of which I write, but you get the idea.

I've begun the laborious work of shaping and molding.

A certain amount of licking is involved. This is not something an amateur should attempt.

As you can see, I still have much to do. It is exhausting but worth the time and effort, as are most things in life, until someone snatches it away from you!