Nobody Knows the Troubles I’ve Seen

You know, dear reader, that sometimes life blindsides us with such unpleasant maladies that we can’t help but wonder if we’ve done something really terrible to anger the gods. Two weeks ago the gods tested my fortitude, tolerance, and maturity.  My intestinal track was challenged in ways I found unimaginable and produced such a copious outpouring of vile excrement that even I was disgusted.

I fear that sharing this illness may offend some of my more sensitive readers, and for that I apologize, but the severity of that illness  left me weak as a kitten and without a great deal of dignity. Now some of you may be saying, “But Mason, you do have a diaper…why weren’t you wearing that helpful garment?” My answer to you, my well intended but highly naïve readers, is that wearing such a device in this situation would be analogous to catching the ocean’s incoming tide with a bucket.

My poor, inexperienced dad was overwhelmed and sleep deprived from mopping up after me throughout two nights. Mom was flying around the west coast on the corporate jet and not coming home until Friday night, which left only Dad in charge. He realized that a trip to the hospital was necessary since none of the usual treatments were working. After an assessment and a round of the appropriate drugs, yours truly was right as rain.

Since some time has elapsed since I began this entry, I must move forward. Lizzard and I are beginning our preparations for the annual migration to Cape Cod. In years past this has been a cause for joyful anticipation but this year I am feeling a sense of trepidation and concern. Grandma’s new dogs are definitely making me question the wisdom of this journey. Daphne, the Frenchie, is a handful (to state it mildly) and Cecily, the black pug, has serious breathing and jealousy issues. So I know that you, dear reader, are wondering how this will impact yours truly. I, of course, share these same concerns. Since I am in the autumn of my years, a certain amount of respect, deference, and attention is due me and my fear is that it will not be forthcoming in this new environment. Grandma is aware of my needs and wants to be accommodating, but the reality of four dogs and two cats may prove to be insurmountable. I will certainly establish my supremacy quickly and firmly, but Daphne, in her extreme youth and inexperience, is sure to breach my wall of power.

Stay tuned and send positive energy my way.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Lizzard and I enjoying nature's bounty

The youth in question

Daphne and Cecily together...formidable! Don't be fooled by their sleepy expressions.

Variations on A Recurring Theme, or I Get No Respect

I think most of you long time readers of my blog probably have a reasonable idea of who I am. You know I am a pug who will not suffer fools gladly, to paraphrase George Bernard Shaw’s famous, “He was, I believe, not in the least an ill-natured man: very much the opposite, I should say; but he would not suffer fools gladly.” I do think that is a fair assessment of yours truly. I am not one to be challenged, teased, or micromanaged. I can be somewhat standoffish, slightly critical (but usually accurate), and not terribly interested in interacting with my own or other species. And yes, I am a bit of a curmudgeon. So, if you, dear reader, understand my strengths and foibles, then why wouldn’t one incredibly cheeky, inappropriate, and uncontrolled kitten?

This Zoe has been the bane of my existence on Cape Cod. She has taken it into her feline sized brain that I am the object of her attention, that I am a pug with whom to toy, and that she need not observe any of the rules of respectful behavior.

The other night I was enjoying a wonderful post-dinner nap on my grandparents new winter shag area rug in the TV room. I can remember the evening well because I was transported by dreams of such incredible bliss about the object of my affection, when I became aware of a small but annoying paw, persistently patting me. Normally, I either would have moved or swatted it away, but this evening I had no desire to disturb my pleasant reverie. I opened one eye slowly and unobtrusively so that I could discover the source of the annoyance. I watched this creature, Zoe, lying near me, as she slithered closer and closer, using her body in a reptilian way, as only a cat or snake can. I was both repelled and fascinated, curious to see what tactic she would next employ. Her head actually was touching mine and she continued to put forth her paw of mass destruction. She somehow assumed it was okay to keep touching me as she inched closer. At that point something primeval fired in my brain, causing me to lunge at her, using my voice in a most primitive manner, like the pug beast I really am. She looked shocked, disbelieving, and surprisingly, intrigued! She was not chastened or contrite. I still cannot believe her response and it continues to rankle me.

I will never understand cats.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Look at her cunning little face as she plots her next attack.

Looks innocent, doesn't she, as she rests in her cat nest? Look at those paws. See what I mean?

Oliver is another story. We have a mutual respect for one another's space. You do not want to mess with him.