Tag Archives: soul

Hang My Portrait on The Wall of Shame

Oh my, dear reader, my soul is in turmoil and I am tormented by the demons of my transgressions. It is to this forum that I must turn in confession, lest I find myself spiraling downward into Dante’s ninth circle of Hell.

How to begin? This may be the one blog entry you wish to skip over, and then hope that better days lie ahead for yours truly. I am an addict. There, I’ve said it. I have a vile predilection, a taste for the highly unsavory (by human standards), a penchant for the forbidden. Many of you pugs reading this will know immediately to what I refer, so don’t pretend you don’t.

I thought I was managing this addiction fairly well this summer, but with two highly productive cats and two litter boxes in the house, I am surrounded by temptation on a daily basis. I also have noted that Grandma and Grandpa have become much more lax about maintenance of said boxes. I was weak yesterday, weak with hunger I should say, but the results were disastrous. Apparently this foray was my undoing, my overdose, if you will. The evidence lay all over my bed and when Grandpa discovered it, he ran downstairs to confer with Grandma. It was inconceivable to them that I would soil my own bed, but the evidence was irrefutable. Only today Grandma realized the vile product, that she assumed was “an accident,” was in fact the result of my stomach discharging its rich and toxic contents.

There will be no intervention, but I am guessing there will be greater vigilance for the rest of my stay here. You see the depth of my despair and shame, but at least I won’t be wearing the dreaded diapers that Grandma threatened before she knew the truth.

As the Pet Shop Boys sang, “So I look back upon my life, Forever with a sense of shame, I’ve always been the one to blame, For everything I long to do, No matter where or when or who, Has one thing in common too, It’s a Sin.”

I am a monster.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

P.S. I cannot show my face on this entry.

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The Case of the Purloined Pug

Apologies to Edgar Allan Poe for the adaptation of his famous title, but it is so fitting for today’s revelation. I know that many of you fear I have too jaundiced a view of life, and more specifically, of love. In order to dispel that notion, dear reader, I have decided to reveal the most intimate and guarded emotional experience of my life.

If you recall, I made reference in my earliest writing to my mom being the alpha and omega, next to food, of my life. For most of you, this probably went flying past your cognitive processing center, and so I am refreshing your memory. It is important to the context of what I am about to reveal: that pugs do feel love —  intensely and passionately. There, I’ve said it and I’m not ashamed! I haven’t felt that emotion for another pug (as you humans tend to fantasize) but I surely did the first time I laid eyes on my mom.

I mentioned that she is a knockout, but that had nothing to do with the kismet like quality of our introduction. When she came to meet me at the breeder’s, our initial contact was cataclysmic…the earth literally moved for me. The electrical connection between us was instantaneous, and nothing could have kept me from bounding into her outstretched arms. Yes, she stole my heart and my soul, dear reader.

For those of you who doubt that such depth of emotion can exist for a pug, well then, just look deeply into your own pug’s eyes and see what he or she is trying to tell you every day.What my mom and I share “let no man tear asunder.” Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom. You had me at “Hello, Mason.”

 

Respectfully submitted,

 

Mason

 

While this isn't a great shot of yours truly, it does show a romantic wedding and my loving devotion to the bride.

While this isn't a great shot of yours truly, it does show a romantic wedding and my loving devotion to the bride.

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