You know that story about a person who climbs a mountain and sitting at the top is this really, really old man, saying all sorts of wise things about life and stuff?
Well, that’s what I was thinking about yapping with Pugsy Snel. She’s, like, a great, great, great granddog – 17 years in People, which is, like, more than 100 in Dog. Pugsy’s a Pug, of course, who lives with her human, Alan. She’s deaf, almost blind, and doesn’t really walk all that much. As she puts it, “I enjoy the reclining position.” She stands pretty good, though.
When her Dad opened the door, she was standing there, swaying a little. “Welcome to our home, young fella,” she said in a soft, snuffly little voice. “I wanted to be right here to greet you. But my legs give out on me these days, so, if you’ll forgive me, I’ll mostly be sitting.”
“By all means! I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Pugsy,” I told her, as her Dad gently picked her up.
“You’ll have to speak up, young fella. My hearing’s not so good. This is my Dad, Alan.”
We all sat down in the sunny front room which was, Pugsy explained, her room. She curled up in her Dad’s lap, leaning against him, her eyes half closed. I knew she’d had the typical black Pug face and ears once, but now she’s mostly a pretty cream color. Even though she was small, slim and wobbly, there was something about her that was – what’s that word humans use – Serene. Just sitting there with her made me feel real comfortable.
“My Dad fixed this room up for me. I can’t make it up the steps into the rest of the house, but that is of no consequence, because I have everything I need right here: three beds, food and water, and my blue elephant. It’s very Zen. And Dad’s work station is here, too. I am indeed fortunate. So, young fella, what would you like to know?”
“Whatever you wanna share about your life.”
“I’ll do my best. My memory comes and goes, you know. First place I remember living was Plant City. Mom acquired me from somewhere near Vero Beach. So now I have come Full Circle.”
“Pawsome!”
“Indeed. We three lived in Tampa. Then Dad moved to Las Vegas. After six months, I missed him so much, a friend took me out to be with Dad. I can tell you, Vegas is like nowhere else. Lights, noise, colors, people everywhere, all the time. And feathers. Not really my kind of place, but interesting.
“At any rate, after three years, Dad and I went on a Big Adventure: We drove all the way to here. Dad created a special place for me next to him, with lots of fluffy comforters. I was his Official Navigator. We saw many wondrous sites along the way. It was memorable, just Dad and me.”
“Wow, I’d love to take a road trip like that, Miss Pugsy,” I said. “So, tell me about your friends.”
“Ah, yes! I met Walter at a Passover Seder in Lake Worth. We were admiring each other’s yarmulkes. He’s a Pug, too. He has become quite enamored of me. In Vegas, there was Bear. We really had a thing. But he was a rambler. Had a lot of wolf in him.” She was getting that faraway look, so I hastily changed the subject.
“What kinda food do you like?” I asked, with stunning originality.
“Since I have hardly any teeth, I get Merrick’s. It’s soft. My favorite flavor is Chicken Pot Pie. Dad says he knows I’m doing OK as long as I gobble it all up. Since I can’t really see or hear, he puts my food in my dish and then brings it to me. I stick my nose in the bowl and Dad walks me over to my dining area. We discovered the BEST dog treats on the PLAnet. They’re chocolate, like a soft fluffy cupcake.”
“You seem so calm and peaceful,” I observed. “Have you always been that way?”
“You’ll have to speak up, young fella, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Oh, sorry, Miss Pugsy.” I repeated the question.
“I’ve always been rather Zen. Dad calls me Little Buddha. But I can get riled up. For example, I spent my very early years with my younger step-sister Baby, a Pekingese. We were complete opposites. She was a scrappy street dog, loved to pick fights, even with much bigger dogs (which most of them are). One day a human friend stopped by with a hunting dog. The moment I saw him, I felt I needed to protect my reckless little sister, so I leaped up to bite him on the nose. I never actually reached his nose, and no blood was shed, but he got the message.”
“Way to go!” I exclaimed.
“I only venture outdoors to Do My Duty and get some fresh air. I’m not a puppy any more, you know. I try to take care of myself, reserve my energy. I mostly sleep during the day, waiting for Dad to get home. And I ALWAYS sense when he’s leaving or coming home. I arise promptly at 4:30 a.m. I’m Dad’s alarm clock. He takes me out, prepares my breakfast, then goes back to sleep.”
“Any words of wisdom?” I asked.
“I would have to say, ‘Don’t Engage in Risky Behavior’; ‘A Treat in the Paw is Worth Two in the Pantry’; ‘Remember to Stop and Smell the Fire Hydrants’; and, of course, ‘Wag More, Bark Less!’”
Heading home, I was feeling so peaceful, I decided to get out my yoga mat and practice my Downward Facing Dog pose.
Till next time,
The Bonz
