There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

This venerable old pug is hanging up his rucksack, lining up his meds, fluffing up his bed, and resting his dogs…so to speak. My wandering is over for some time, and while I had an action-packed summer it is time to relax in my new digs and resume my “master of the house” role.

With the addition of two more dogs to our pack, I don’t mind admitting that I’m exhausted…both mentally and physically. Daphne, the Frenchie, would try the patience of a saint and with her indefatigable energy and aggression, I was tried sorely on a daily basis. She was territorial, quarrelsome, and fast. In my youth perhaps I could have provided her a worthy opponent, but at my age and with my infirmities I had neither the ability nor interest. Cecily was as insipid and obsequious as Lizzie, so you can only imagine how those two huddled and cuddled together. Lizzie is still suffering the pangs of separation. Oh boo hoo, Lizzie. Cry me a river.

So, our summer was of a different tone and tenor this year, but the good news is that no one suffered any health issues (except for my ongoing eye treatments).

Our new home involves an upstairs bedroom, where Lizzie and I must be carried each evening for bed (if not, I set up a most fearful and annoying barking) because the stairs are open and way too steep for either of us to navigate. We love having the additional bedroom/office because now we can replicate those blissful days with Grandpa spent sleeping in little beds under his desk.

Because Mom has been sick since we returned, we’ve had some wonderful days spent caring for her at home; for us that translates into couch time on and under blankets with our patient.

While this isn’t the most newsworthy blog, at least you have been brought up to date with our whereabouts and activities. I will next regale you with more stories from our life in Gotham.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Day of departure...I ruined Grandma's photo op...but I think I'm pretty cute

The acceptable version

Looks innocent, doesn't she? You would be fooled if you believe that.

Master of the Moment and Still Leader of the Pack

I must share a small story with you, dear reader, because it illustrates so well the folly of youth and the wisdom of age, which is not to say that I wouldn’t trade any young whipper-snapper his foolish youth for my venerable old age.

As you loyal readers must remember, Lizzie and I have a long-standing relationship with Aaron, Grandma and Grandpa’s UPS driver: he delivers packages to them and biscuits to us. But now there are two new “young-uns” interfering with what has been a perfectly fine arrangement for these past few years. Aaron said that we have to share two biscuits four ways because the number of dogs on his route has increased wildly and he cannot afford to stock so many treats. While that is perfectly understandable since he covers this expense himself, it does cut into the amount I actually get for myself. I am not a mean-spirited pug, as you know,  but I’ve learned that I must look out for yours truly because no one else has such a vested interest!

My tale is pithy but deep. One recent afternoon, Grandpa took all four of us for a walk (we do present quite a sight) and on our return I needed to relieve myself once more. This occurred on our street, right before we turned into our driveway. Knowing I have the homing instincts of a trained pigeon, Grandpa let me off leash and I promptly trotted up to the front door. As he approached with the three females, he told me the door was locked and to come in back with him. I, however, had already spied the UPS packages on the front stoop and was not going to budge, since I knew there would be two cookies resting on top of them. The silly little girls went obligingly off with Grandpa while I sorted out Aaron’s offering. By the time Grandpa and the girls came into the house and unlocked the front door, I had consumed both cookies and was wagging my tail enthusiastically. The three were none the wiser, not being the seasoned veteran that I am, and just welcomed me in as the long-lost final member of the pack.

I swear to you, biscuits have never tasted quite this good. Lesson: don’t assume that old age equals loss of mental acuity.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

At the helm again, in control, master of my domain!