It was inevitable. I’m not sure that I would have chosen this path had I known how rigorous and invasive it would be. Fame…that elusive, and tantalizing old seductress…has ruined more happy and uncomplicated lives than can be estimated. The price fame extracts is often incalculable, leaving its victims blinking like moles in bright sunlight.
Since our book’s release, library appearances, and rave book review, Lizzie and I rarely have outings where we are not recognized. People freely shout out our names as they see us, come over to pet us, and then call their friends over to meet “The Summerpugs,” as we are referred to by many. All of this is lovely, and naturally I deport myself graciously and manfully (not like that shrinking idiot who shadows me).
Which brings me to last night’s baseball game. We ate before leaving and since it was Mom and Dad’s last night on the Cape, we had lobsters and steamers for dinner. Knowing how wild Lizzie and I are for those delicacies and also how they would miss us, Mom and Dad threw many steamers and bits of lobster our way. I have never been one to halt a feeding frenzy and last night was no exception. On the way to the game I began to experience some discomfort in my stomach, which always causes me to pant. By the time we arrived my bowels were in turmoil, roiling with activity. Dear reader, under these circumstances there is no controlling the next byproduct of this agony. Soon there were groans from all of the passengers as I released my noxious vapors into the car. Still, I bravely trotted around the field, greeting the many fans that recognized us. Under normal circumstances I could have retreated into my mom’s arms, but I couldn’t since my public wanted to see a feisty, confident, swaggering pug. And so, the show must go on.
P.S. I’m not including a photo this time for the obvious reason, and because you saw so many last time…
I apologize, dear reader, for the large gap between writings. It is not my granny’s fault but strictly mine. I have settled in to a routine of such indulgence, lethargy, and pleasure that I haven’t felt as compelled to pursue my particular avocation. Part of the problem is that I don’t have to be so actively engaged in seeking out food and treats on the Cape. That is not to say that one mustn’t remain vigilant, but there is certainly less desperation in the pursuit here. There is always a bountiful supply of edibles in and around the kitchen. I know I wrote about eating steamers on the deck last week, but it happened again yesterday. For some bizarre reason Grandpa doesn’t care for the feet and so Lizzie and I have only to sit there as he discards those delicacies onto the deck.
Saturday night, my grandparents had friends over for a cookout and of course Lizzie and I were included. It was a veritable food orgy and by the end of the evening we were exhausted and sated, since their guests found us so delightful.
Lizzie and I seem to be sleeping later each day, with Grandma having to waken us at 8 AM some mornings. It is quite a life for pugs that have been living in the fast lane for the past nine months. Our daily schedule is never the same and always includes some errand running with Grandpa. We also love riding with Grandma in her little sports car when the top is down. These are all things which probably seem commonplace to dogs living here year round, but for us each activity is exciting and filled with promise.
Mom is in Italy on business right now but I know she is thinking about us. We are fine, happy, well fed, and enjoying every day. The only thing missing in the picture is her.
P.S. I just reread this and I am ashamed by how weak and soft I sound. I hope I’m not losing my game!
Look at Lizzie's dull vacant expression as she is being held.
And here is yours truly, doing what he does best at a dinner party!
I had to include this since Lizzie looks so ridiculous.
Here we are, at the end of the evening, sleepy and sated.
Tuesday was a glorious day for yours truly…fair weather and a gentle breeze wafting the scent of herbs from Grandma’s herb garden in my direction. Grandma had gone to the beach and we were at home with Grandpa. As lunchtime approached, Grandpa informed us that he had a special treat to share with us. Of course my thoughts naturally turned to the food kind of treat and not to the spiritual variety. When I saw Grandpa start boiling water, my hopes were confirmed and I quickly assumed the waiting position.
For a pug living on Cape Cod in the summer, one of the greatest treats is eating clams, whether they are quahogs, cherrystones, or steamers. Even if they’ve been emptied of their meat, we love just sucking on the shells. On this occasion, Grandpa served up steamers. Those of you unfamiliar with them, they are the particularly unattractive bivalve whose “foot” projects through its two shells. I don’t really know why it is called a foot since it resembles no foot I’ve ever seen. Quite frankly, if I weren’t such a lover of all things edible, there is no way I’d ever touch that disgusting looking appendage! But, since I am a dog, I have no such aversion.
Grandpa, with the greatest generosity, fed us those delicious, delectable delicacies. Oh what bliss, what joy! We dined as no pugs could even imagine. Sated, we then succumbed to the warmth of the sun and napped on our deck. My mom was horrified when she learned what treasures we’d been fed, shouting, “How could you feed those two the best part of the steamer?”
I have the answer, Mom: “Because Grandpa loves us more than steamers.”
I realize you wanted to see us eating the steamers, but Grandpa was eating too. I'm showing my first photo since it shows Lizzie and me on "the half shell."