Tag Archives: scent

“Oh What a Rogue and Peasant Slave Am I” HAMLET, William Shakespeare

My inner turmoil and struggle are nothing compared to those of Hamlet, but like Hamlet, I do tend to work myself into an emotional frenzy. One of two things serves as a trigger — food or Lizzie. I am quite sure that Lizzie is the more formidable agent of the two.

Recently I laid bare, what I consider, a very revealing incident/olfactory response to you, dear reader. I am assaulted daily by such conflicting emotions. I would like to punish Lizzie severely, and at the same time, bury my nose in her tantalizing flesh. I spend my days staring fixedly at her, sending out subliminal messages, exhorting her to vanish. And then instantly, like a schizophrenic rat, my pupils turn from hellish red to soft brown, shaded with longing and desire. I am beset with such constant mental instability that I can no longer enjoy those long coma-like sleeps of yore. In west coast lingo, my mellow has been harshed.

If she weren’t so ingratiatingly cheerful and content – which I suspect is due to her significantly lower IQ – I would have an easier time hating and reviling her. No matter how tempestuous my moods or aggressive my behavior, she just slinks quietly away, waiting for a gentle touch or soft voice. Which brings me to the second of my triggers…food. As a result of Lizzie’s toxic scent, I must assuage my fixation with F O O D! I have become even more of a growling, barking, whimpering, demanding beast than before. If I see a dust mote, I attack it like it is my last hope of sustenance and my job is to bring it down swiftly. No human escapes my quest for crumbs, and I fear I’ve made everyone’s life a living Hell. Oh woe is me – a lost pug in Manhattan, struggling to combat my daily demons.

Perhaps if Lizzie is bathed she will lose that atavistic scent and I too will lose my desire for her. I am a monster.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Lost...lost in her scent. I cannot escape.

Here we are together, as always, lying in Dad's bathroom doorway. Look at her staring vacantly into the camera...nothing there at all. I don't get it.

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Scent of a Pug, or Missing the Obvious

Sometimes, dear reader, it is possible to be so involved with the minutiae of living, or at least what passes for living, that we miss what is literally right under our nose. I like to think of myself as a fairly observant and perceptive pug – one who does take some time to smell the roses, and do bear with me on this smell metaphor, but it seems I have overlooked something rather obvious. Let me explain.

Yesterday, while Mom was performing her usual morning ritual of bathing and grooming (why she does this, I have no idea since, to me, she looks and smells divine all of the time). Lizzie was seated in her frog-like position, propped against the bathroom door and as I walked past her I was assaulted by her perfume. It literally smacked me in the face…high notes of kibble, dried saliva, ear oil and low notes of city streets and pug butt. How can I even begin to describe such a heady, intoxicating aroma? Was there ever a pug to smell so desirable? I was lost, dear reader, lost. My senses were on overload and my head spinning. There was nothing for it but to explore every nook and cranny of this delectable creature. She, the once scorned and much maligned Lizzie, was compliant and accommodating for my request, offering up her spindly little legs and maneuvering her bullet-shaped body into positions of acquiescence. I was wild with desire and she innocent of my yearning. Throwing myself against her in complete surrender,  I cuddled as I’d never cuddled before, hoping to absorb her essence into my skin. When Mom left the bathroom and found us huddled together in such fashion, she could only stare in amazement and confusion.

I can offer no explanation. This foolish little creature has lived with me for nearly three years and I’ve never felt compelled to seek her out. How have I been so blind? What if she, a seemingly guileless simpleton has cast a spell on me? What if she is really a sorceress and I her willing victim?

I have no satisfactory answers, dear reader, but perhaps you will. Lizzie –enigmatic or malevolent?

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Frog Lizzie

Lost in her scent

They say couples resemble one another as they age

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Pugs of the Limberlost, or ATP (All Terrain Pugs)

THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,

Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,

Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.

Evangeline – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I begin today’s entry, dear reader, with the opening line of Evangeline because it is fitting for my topic. Near my grandparents’ home is a wonderful nature trail around a lake, called Eagle Pond. The trail is cut through a forest of majestic pines which all but obscure daylight from reaching the ground. The trails circle the lake, with steep side paths going down to its shore at various intervals. For a pug, or any other dog for that matter, this spot is heaven on earth. To hike these trails, savoring the rich scent of earth, pine boughs, humus, decaying tree branches, moss, and dog leavings is overwhelming. Our first visit so stimulated Lizzie and me that we couldn’t even make it half way around the lake.

Yesterday, in the late afternoon, Grandma took us to Eagle Pond. Storm clouds were gathering, the sky was darkening, and a few drops of rain fell as we began our hike. It was in this close and ominous atmosphere that I felt most closely connected to my primal roots (literally and figuratively since we are so close to the ground). Untethered, I like to explore off the main trail because experience has taught me that treasures abound in these areas. I am a fearless and independent explorer, as most of you already know. Lizzie, that silly creature, likes to shadow me, but occasionally she, too, gets caught up in a particular scent and loses sight of me. I had to laugh at her yesterday when I saw her trotting ahead on the trail before realizing I wasn’t with her. She gave a quick jump in the air, spun around, and ran back to me. What a twit! Her vain attempt at self-recovery was even more pathetic.

We met up with only a few other dogs – large labs and retrievers who had been swimming – and of course they were impressed by my confidence and masculinity. Owners always struggle with these dogs, trying to regain their control, because after meeting me they don’t wish to leave me. I, however, take only a passing interest in them since they aren’t particularly clever or inventive. They tend to run about wildly… panting, sniffing, retrieving, and trying to play.

By the time we reached the end of the trail, rain was falling steadily, and Lizzie and I were ready to collapse. At home, Grandma fixed us a wonderful dinner of kibbles, squash, and egg so that we could recover our strength.It was an early evening for yours truly.

I will think of Eagle Pond fondly and sadly every time Lizzie and I are taken out for a walk in Manhattan.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. These are poor photos today because Grandma just had her cell phone, but at least you can sense the majesty and scale of this forest.

My backside, but look at the gloomy aspect of this trail and appreciate my fearless heart.

My backside, but look at the gloomy aspect of this trail and appreciate my fearless heart.

Lizzie on a trail leading to the shore. She is blurry, but who cares?

Lizzie on a trail leading to the shore. She is blurry, but who cares?

Here we are exploring a side trail. Again, Lizzie is blurry, but who cares?

Here we are exploring a side trail. Again, Lizzie is blurry, but who cares?

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