Resolutions

Happy 2009 to all my fans! I don't really know when 2009 started, but it must have been recently, because I have lately been subjected to several new regimens in an effort to make me the Best Pug I Can Be.

Note that I have been subjected to such regimens. I, Poppy, am not an introspective or spiritual pug, and do not really care if I am the Best Pug I Can Be. I live, resolutely, in the material world. As long as you give me treats and tummy rubs, I am okay.

Self-improvement is not a part of my philosophy of life. If you don't give me treats and tummy rubs, it is your problem, and I will tell you that. Loudly.

My parents are the introspective and spiritual beings in the house. (Duncan is spiritual, but not introspective). They are about self-improvement and dog improvement. (Read pug-improvement -- Duncan is being made to do nothing). I am really not crazy about human self-improvement, as it causes my parents to be away a lot, thus making my feeding schedule erratic. I am okay with part of the pug-improvement plan, and not okay with the other part.

Two resolutions have been made for me: 1. More walks. 2. No accidents in the house.

I have to have more walks because I am a round pug. My mommy figures that if people at risk of obesity can improve their health by taking more walks, then pugs at risk of obesity will also improve by walking. I don't care why we go. I like to walk. Sniffing is good, too.

The second resolution requires making me change some habits that I acquired when we came to live with the boys. This is not so fun. Where I used to get the run of the house at night, now I have to be crated. I am a good girl and do not complain, but I don't like it. Notice that being the Best Pug I Can Be is not the same as Free to Be You and Me. I am a cunning and sneaky pug, and my parents don't trust me.

The Law and I

This is a photograph of me standing on Black's Law Dictionary and the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. They are convenient boosters.

Sarah Palin's Reasoning is Just Like Mine

I, Poppy, would like to point out a habit of mind that I share with Sarah Palin, the Governor of Alaska and Republican Vice Presidential Nominee. (I also share a chromosome with her, but that doesn't really matter, as Gloria Steinem has pointed out). Fans! Sarah Palin thinks like a five year old pug!

As you will remember, part of my reasoning for endorsing Senator Obama is that he is taller than Senator McCain and therefore would be better protection if we were walking down the street together toward Vladimir Putin. And I am sure you remember that Governor Palin has said that her state's proximity to Russia is a cornerstone of her foreign relations experience.

Well, a few days ago when Katie Couric interviewed the Governor, she asked her why she thought such proximity was important to a person's foreign relations experience. Fans, Governor Palin answered as I would! She said that when Putin "rears his head" he goes to Alaska.

We are going to need some one very big to stand behind.

The Fiction of Being in Charge

Today Mommy came home from studying. I do not like it when Mommy studies. She does not pay attention to me. When she studies, I like to go up to her garret and look out the window. I stand on the law dictionary. It boosts me up. That is how I feel about studying. And books. I do not like books.

So, Mommy came home and I was happy. I barked. I smiled. I looked at Mommy lovingly. She also brought food.

But Mommy left again. I didn't like this new development. She went out the door. She told me, "I'm just going to the car. See, you can watch me. I'm not really leaving."

I don't get this "I'm not really leaving" idea. So I barked with urgency. "Don't leave! Don't Leave! Don't leave!" My voice is very shrill when I bark with urgency.

But Mommy left. I watched her go down the stairs. Duncan watched her, too. I scolded her as she walked down the stairs. "Bad Mommy!" My voice is rather imperious when I scold some one.

But Mommy did not pay attention. So I turned around. I trotted back into the house and I scolded Daddy, because, with Mommy gone, who else is left to scold?

Last in Line

The other night we went over to my other grandparents' house. There are dogs that live there. We were outside for a while. When we came in, we came through the door in a line according to our rank in the pack. First Duncan came in. Then Pepsi, then Cassie. Then I followed. Pepsi and Cassie are both old, blind, and don't walk very well. Even in that pack I am still Omega Dog.

The Real Me

It has come to my attention that my fans might think that I am a prima donna, or in other words, a diva. While the stories about myself that I publish on this blog often highlight my drama queen nature, I, Poppy, am really very sweet. I am as sweet as pumpkin pie. I am as sweet as pudding cake. My mommy says so all the time.

Take for example my eyes. I am watching you all the time. What are you doing? I am curious. What do you have? What does it smell like? I am not always interested in it because it may be for me, I just want to investigate.

When I see you see me, my body stays completely still, while my tail begins to wag. This exact same thing happens when I am dreaming a happy dream.

I love you, so I want to be as close to you as possible. I sit next to you on the sofa. I put my chin in your lap. When you are sitting in a chair, I am lying on the floor next to you. When you are in bed, I am a the foot, lying on my bed.

Sometimes the world is oppressive. Like the heat. It wears me out. Sometimes I sleep in the bathroom because the tile is cool.

I am Omega Dog, so in company other dogs ignore me, or even snap at me so I will go away from them. Instead of playing with them, I go to a far away part of the yard and sniff around by myself. Every once in a while I come over to you, so that you will pet me, and remind me that I am part of a pack.

Family Event

We went to my Grandma and Grandpa's on Sunday to play with my cousins, Lucy and Bear. They are both bigger than I am, but not bigger than Duncan. When they are all together, I am caught between wanting to pay with the big dogs, and being afraid of being trampled by them. Further, they are all retrievers, and I am not. They bring the ball back to the One With Thumbs. I, Poppy, run after the ball, and then sit in the grass with it.

Late in the day my Uncle Josh was at the other end of the yard, throwing the ball for Duncan and Bear. We had been chasing the ball for a long time, and it was very hot. I was sitting in the shade under a chair, next to all of the humans. Duncan was stiff, and instead of running after the ball as he had been doing earlier, he was walking after it. Duncan was paying attention to the ball. Bear was really only paying attention to Duncan. Bear wants to be Alpha. Duncan will not let him. Lucy just wants everybody to let her alone.

Uncle Josh threw the ball toward our end of the yard. Duncan started to run after the ball, and Bear started chasing Duncan. No one had counted on me. I had been watching the ball the whole time. I dashed out from under the chair, and grabbed the ball. I laid down in the grass and put my paw on the ball, in the manner of a statue of a lion. No one tried to take it from me.

Ceasefire

The bombardment has let up. The only sounds from outside are the pigeons who live in our eaves.

I am still on guard. Mommy sneezed, and I jumped.

Still Under Attack

We are alone now. The Ones With Thumbs have sealed up the house like it is a fortress. The blinds are closed. The doors are closed. We go out into the yard only for emergencies, then run right back in, bright chrysanthemums of light exploding behind us.

Attack!

We are under siege and have been since last night. The popping and whizzing noises from outside subsided for a while this morning, but now they are just as intense -- perhaps more so -- than ever before. The explosions are loud, and they are always followed by strange primate screams and laughter. Something very cruel is going on out there. I respond by barking and then lying with my eyes open extra wide, my chin in between my paws. Will this never end?

Grooming

I, Poppy, did not like taking baths at home. When some one starts running a bath around our house, I am on guard as I am suspicious that I'm going to wind up in it. Now that we are two dogs, we get baths at Petsmart. I do not like baths at Petsmart any more that I like baths at home. Baths are a good trip to Petsmart spoiled.

We are always excited to go to Petsmart. There are many exciting smells there, and often we go home with treats and bags of food. We are always excited at Petsmart until we go to the room behind the glass door. There is a gate in the room behind the glass door, and when a lady comes to take you through the gate you are scared and uncomfortable. Duncan knows right away that he does not want to go behind the gate. As soon as we enter the room behind the glass door, he turns around and looks back out the way we came. He turns his head to Mommy and with his tail wagging shoots her a look that says, "All right. I've had enough. I think it's time to go."

Though we are usually friendly and trusting dogs who will come when a human calls us, we stay put when the gate opens and the ladies call us to come through. We just stand there and look at them. It takes Mommy and two ladies to push and pull us through the gate. Duncan is just big and hard to maneuver while I place my forepaws out in front of me like I'm putting on a break. They finally get us through the gate. We watch with sad eyes as Mommy turns and abandons us in the black hole of Calcutta.

The Aesthetic of the Pug Form

This is a photograph of some statues at some hotel in Las Vegas. I don't like Las Vegas. My mommy is there now. She is away from me. Moreover, it seems that Las Vegas is an easy place for some one like me, who is small, to get stepped on.

Anyway, my fans with eyes for art will notice that these statues have a shape that is remarkably pug-like. Notice the prominent belly. Notice the flattened face resulting in the wide smile. I do. In fact, if I were there and not being stepped on, I would bark at these statues for their resemblance to pugs. I would bark at them after a prolonged, silent study of their features during which I would be perfectly still. I might refuse to walk past them, agreeing only to do so if the person holding my lead walked between me and these statues. For, I, Poppy, understand representation only up to a point. Might these huge, still, scary monsters in the shape of pugs pounce, just as we are least expecting them to?

Back Yard Adventure

Our back yard is a place of adventure for me. Grandma and Grandpa have a back yard with an expanse of grass that is cool and luxurious to lie on in the summer. But our back yard has in the past resembled a jungle of sumac and tall grass. Last summer when I was in the yard it was like being a tiger, moving stealthily through the underbrush.

Daddy cut down most of the sumac last summer, but some grew back this spring and he had to cut it down again, so that he and Mommy could make the garden. The sumac grows fast, and has woody stems that, personally, I find delightful to chew on. Most of the sumac that grew back was along the side of the garage, where I used to like to explore. Now that space is empty, and there is now a pile of sumac trunks sitting in the back of the yard, awaiting that urban superhero, the Junkman, to come and haul it away. I like to explore under the trunks. Like the side of the garage, it is a place that Duncan cannot go, as he is big. But I am little, so I can squeeze through. It is fun.

Sometimes Daddy works in the garage. I like the garage, too, as it is dark and mysterious, and I have never really had an opportunity to be in there for long. Today I sneaked in there while no one was looking and I began to sniff around. Daddy did not see me, as I am little, which is to my advantage when I want to claim unfettered sniffing privileges. But then Daddy shut the door, and I was left there. How could he leave me? How could he not notice that I was there? I waited in the dark.

At some point some one noticed that I was missing from the house. Mommy and Daddy called for me in every room and in the back yard, but they didn't find me. I continued to wait. I was getting scared. I had been abandoned, it was dark, and they didn't even leave Duncan with me.

Daddy walked around the block. When he came back without me, Mommy got her keys out so she could go through the neighborhood and look for me. I have been known to sneak out the front door to be returned by neighbors, tucked under their arms, my pug legs sticking straight out like sticks and a sedate, "who me?" look on my face.

Before they left they decided to try the garage. Daddy opened the door and called to me. Oh! Happy day! I ran out. I was happy to see everybody and everybody was happy to see me! However, now that I look back it seems that Duncan did not seem at all concerned about my absence. When I found him, he was in the mud room, taking up all the room on our dog bed.

Being Small in a Big World

Last night my daddy came home from a party late, after mommy and I had gone to sleep. My big brother, Duncan, always takes the night shift, so I don't have to do too much guarding after dark. He does not seemed phased by the imminent threat of the schoolchildren who descend upon the schoolyard across the street from our house every day, but I'm there to voice my concerns about them, so his negligence is not so threatening. Anyway, I was startled by this big man coming into the bedroom, so I jumped up and ran to the corner next to the alarm clock, possibly to hide under the bedside table. It is scary having to wonder whether you are going to be stepped on all the time. Even in your sleep.