Wendy and the Lost Boys

Wherever I go, my dogs are right beside me. They follow me throughout the house, my constant shadows. Mostly it is comforting, sometimes it is suffocating.

"You're their Wendy," my Mom said to me today.

"What?" I asked.

"You know, their Wendy, like in Peter Pan," she offered. "They're the little lost pugs without you! They're in search of a mother."

I laughed, but there was some truth to what Mom was saying. Alfie never had much parenting. Her pug mama accidentally squished one of Alfie's siblings and so was only allowed in with her puppies when they were nursing. Waffles lived an independent life running  rampant with the other pugs at my friend Joan's. Both pugs are as impish and as mischievous as the Lost Boys. When I'm not home, they wait for me by the window, when they're not fighting over bones, knocking over trashcans, banging into each other. They seem to be in need of mothering, someone to teach them some order and discipline. Someone to give them some nurturing.

Sometimes I'm at a loss as to what my role should be with these two. I'm in search of a metaphor, a way to connect and interact with these two alien creatures in our makeshift pack. Maybe being a Wendy to some lost pugs is a place to start.

Buddy and Bear

On one of my first trips over to Glens Falls to visit with Mannix I stopped at Sutherland's Petworks. The store looked long, large and inviting with a large sign announcing its identity as a pet store.  I thought it might be nice to pick up some snacks to take home to the pugs. Inside, I discovered instead a charming, three-legged bulldog named Buddy, who served as the official customer greeter. I talked to one of the clerks in the store or perhaps she was the owner, about Buddy's origins as a stray and watched him move through the aisles and stare out the window, watching and greeting folk.

Today on my way home I decided I should stop in and revisit Buddy and see how he was doing. I opened the door to the store and let out a loud sigh of disappointment that Buddy wasn't there to greet me. I told the woman behind the counter that I was looking for the dog and she told me that there was one roaming around and another back in the office. I vaguely remember that the woman the last time had told me there was more than one official mascot.

I stared down the aisle and there was a cute Corgi (Pembroke? Cardigan? I'm not sure which, perhaps one of you readers know the distinction?). "His name is Bear," the clerk said.

I proceeded to chase Bear around the store snapping away when the woman told me that Buddy was there as well. He loped out of the office on his three legs followed by the woman whom I had met on my previous visit. "I tried to find your blog," she announced.

I remembered that I had told her about my blog on my last visit and had promised to put a photo of Buddy up as I had. "Pugs and Pics," I told her as I set about snapping photos of Buddy.

Buddy had bought me his red ball, which was complemented by the red of his eyes. I had difficulty getting a good shot because he kept getting so close. Bear seemed jealous and stood on the outskirts trying to attract attention, but didn't seem to like his own picture taken. That didn't deter me. I got down on the floor and tried to shoot them both while rolling the ball and scratching Buddy's itchy spot.

I never actually got around to buying any treats for the pugs on this occasion either, but Petworks looks like a great place to shop. If nothing else, it is a wonderful place to visit for a dog fix. My father who was traveling with me today told the store clerk, he hoped I didn't know any other dog friendly establishments en route because we may not make it home. Everyone laughed, but deep down I knew he was right.

Raise Your Hand

I traveled to Glens Falls, NY today to meet with Mannix Marketing about my new web site. After the meeting I went downstairs to Samantha's Cafe & Catering. I went into the restroom and noticed these wonderful little hands reaching up from the windowsill. I'm not sure if they are made from polymer clay or wax and since the cafe was closing there was no one to ask. They struck me as something joyful, tender, spiritual. I loved that they were all different colors and sizes and disconnected from bodies -- just hands reaching upward, aspiring to more.

They reminded me of the recent election. I have friends who chose not to vote, others who were upset by all the anger, the slurs, the lawn signs and Facebook messages. I have family who voted for Romney and family who voted for Obama. Each of us -- the angry, the hopeful, the protesters, the ranters -- each are like these hands, reaching up, aspiring for more. We may think we stand alone on a small precipice in a big, scary world, but others stand with us and if we could only see ourselves from another perspective we'd see how hopeful and tender and beautiful we all are. We might grant ourselves some grace.

Let's Play Dress Up!

I know some people frown at the idea of dressing dogs up in clothes, while others light up with a smile. Those in the first category may be dog people, but they are not likely to own a pug. Of course there are exceptions and every dog balks at clothes on occasion, but for the most part all the pugs I have met are in reality, clothes horses!. Really!

Pugs are natural born clowns and they love attention almost as much as they love food. Clothes mean attention, lots of attention, hence all the pugs I have ever owned love clothes. Clothes for my pugs also usually means they are going somewhere -- whether it's too a pug social, Trick or Treatin', or just to the back stoop for a photoshoot, clothes mean they are on the move and while pugs may be couch potatoes, they are usually up for a good drive.

So, imagine the excitement soon to ensue when I bring out the new garbI found for my girls this week. I found a number of leftover Halloween costumes at TJ Maxx and Petstop and plan on an upcoming photoshoot as soon as my all too busy schedule permits -- mermaid costumes, pirates and pretty princesses will soon be appearing and the pugs have already been scoping out the bags. Alfie's little tail has been a waggin'. Both she and Waffles know that the tupperware bin at the bottom of my closet holds their duds and they begin a series of squeals and scratching when I go to the door. Unfortunately, deadlines and doctors appointments have prevented me from having a fashion show, but I'm starting to feel the pull myself. So soon, very soon I promise you and my very eager girls that a photoshoot is coming. For now, here are a few of the fashions you'll be seeing.

Big, Rob and Pedro

A long day! The pugs had to remain at home today while I went to work. I traveled to Killington, Vt. to visit with Craig Mosher of Mosher Excavating. Mosher keeps two Scottish Highland Cattle, Big and Rob on pastureland on his property. Over the years the two have become unofficial mascots welcoming people to Killington. When Irene hit, the river re-routed through the pasture destroying much of the pastureland and causing many to wonder what had happened to Big and Rob and their pasturemates Pedro the Donkey and Byron and Jessie the sheep. It turns out all are fine and Mosher has been busy recovering the land. I am writing an article on the subject for an upcoming article in Rutland Magazine.

The interview was fun and I had a chance to meet Pedro and Big and Rob up close. I, like many others, used to pass them by on my trips through the area and often would stop and try to snap a picture from the roadside. It is something else to be right on top of them. These guys are big! Big and Rob that is, Pedro is just a tiny donkey, although technically not a miniature.

I got home late and then had to travel to Burlington, Vt. to pick my father up at the airport. It's 1:30 a.m. and the pugs and I are curled up on the sofa as I write this blog. Tomorrow more work, but I did manage to pick up a few costumes for the pugs at after Halloween sales and hope to have a photoshoot soon. Hope to offer some greeting card giveaways when my new blog is up and running in the next couple of weeks. Will of course keep you all posted. In the meantime, enjoy meeting Big, Rob and Pedro!

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Trail of Pugs

On a good day life is a series of lucky twists and turns, strange and happy coincidences, small signs and wonders. And, for those of us who are pug lovers, there are always a few pugs thrown in for good measure.

Today was such a day. It didn't begin that way, however. I had a plan to take my mother and the pugs to Manchester, N.H. to attend my niece Tori's five-year birthday celebration. Unfortunately, a series of events led to a stressful morning and by the time we were ready to take off, it would have been too late to make it, so instead we chose a late-in-the-day trek to Montpelier, Vt. We were going to catch a matinee, but after browsing the bookstore and surveying the street, we decided some window shopping would be more fun. And, it was.

We found one store filled with fantastic and unusual clothing and hats where I spent way too much money and had way too much fun; then on to the next. I noticed a water dish and a stuffed, life-sized Golden retriever in the corner, so I inquired of the cashier whether they ever had a real dog there. She informed me that not only did she bring her Golden into work, but so did the owner and the rather stoic looking, male clerk sitting at the rear of the store.

"I love dogs,"I said. "I have pugs," and suddenly the mood of the man in the rear lightened.

"My daughter has two bullmastiffs and a pug," the man said in the long, slow drawl of a TV cowboy. "Pug rules the whole house," he said with a nod. "The whole house." Then he returned to his stone-faced silence.

"I'm not surprised," I laughed.

We then journeyed next door to the closet of a kid's store where Mom spotted a statue of a fawn pug on the floor next to a mannequin of a child. "I'll have to take it's picture," I said, waiting for a shopper to move out of the way before snapping three shots with my I-phone. Both the shopper and the store clerk looked at me perplexed.

"I'm not as strange as I seem," I offered. "I have a pug blog." I"m not sure if that made me seem any saner or not.

After shopping some more and visiting the local pet store, we made our way down to the Mexican restaurant. Our chimicangas and quesadillas had just arrived when I noticed a small, short woman passing by wearing a gray pug sweatshirt and pug earrings.

"Do youhave a pug?" I asked as she passed by and as she turned to look at me I realized it was a friend and fellow pug owner who I had not seen in a number of years. She had disappeared rather suddenly from my life and over the years I had wondered what had happened to her. We were both surprised and delighted to see each other and soon erupted into lively conversation about pugs' births and deaths. I learned that her last pug died about two years ago at 15 and that she had since adopted two other dogs, too heartbroken to get another pug. I shared with her about Vader's death and Alfie and Waffles' arrivals. We talked well into the meal. In fact, the waitres came over and asked me if she could warm my food. My friend took my email and promised to get in touch. I hope she does. Seeing her was a happy coincidence and proof that if you follow a trail of pugs it is likely to lead to a happy ending.

A Puzzle

My dog is a puzzle and a shadow
A mere silhouette
A mystery, a cypher
Not at all a sure bet

I watch and I study
But she hides her full face
Then returns to my feet
Claiming her place

With a wag of her tail
A snort and a bark
She spills all her secrets
While I remain in the dark

Perhaps always a puzzle, a shadow
A mere silhoutte
But from my perspective
The most faithful of pets

I See You!

Alfie teaches me patience. She shows me how to listen. It isn't easy, I'm a slow learner.

Before Waffles arrived, Alfie and I had settled into a routine. At two, she had started to relinquish her puppy ways. She was settling in as a lap dog, a writing dog -- at home beside me on the couch or at my feet beneath my desk. She studied me, learned my ways and mimicked my behavior. When the computer came out it was work time and she'd take her place beside me.

Introducing Waffles to the mix ignited a flame, it was like waving crack cocaine at an addict. Waffles became Alfie's shiny new toy. Raising the ante, she promised play and the potential for more food. Alfie lives her life in anticipation of the next big feast and Waffles became her plus 2 at the banquet table. Now, all she had to do was figure out how to steal Waffle's supply of snacks and treats. This leaves Alfie on high alert. She yips and barks at Waffles even when Waffles has nothing she wants. She creeps and crawls into Waffles' crate doing surveillance, checking for a hidden stash, and sometimes she stumbles on a goldmine.

I feel like I have stumbled on a hornet's nest. I dwell in a swarm of chaos. Alfie has little sense of her own body, the weight and pressure she exerts. if she wants Waffles or a bone or a toy, she goes for it and if it means leaping on your chest or your face, all 22 lbs. of her, so be it. She pants ceaselessly, she yaps, she jumps.

And, I learn patience and how to listen.

When, she was a puppy, my lessons began. She exhibited this behavior then and I would become frustrated. I'd snap or push her away and she'd come back and jump some more or worse. And, I'd want to scream. But eventually I got it. She was talking to me, she wanted something. Sometimes it was food, sometimes it was play, sometimes she was simply saying, "Look at me!" So, I learned to listen and I'd say, "I see you!" and I really tried to and it seemed to work. She grew and quieted and I thought  this is what it is like to know your dog and she wagged her curl of a tail and seemed to know me right back.

Then came Waffles and that dog disappeared and the whirling dervish took her place. And, I forgot all I had learned. So, lately we've been living in the whirlwind -- my mood as exasperated as Alfie's is heightened. Then something clicked. I am not listening. I stopped seeing my dog.

And, now I have a game plan. I will stop and breathe, listen and look until I learn to see her again. And, if I am lucky, she will throw me a bone to reward my efforts.

Halloween Window

We pulled into an apartment complex for Ellie to go Trick or Treatin' tonight and I saw this cat staring from the window. There was just enough light to get a good picture. I know the cat's not black, but there still seemed something that said Halloween in this picture.

Halloween Magic

Sixteen years ago, I set out Trick or Treatin' with my nephew Christian and his mother, Chesne, for Christian's first Halloween. We dressed him as a little pumpkin, all in orange, and he toted a garbage bag, which we managed to fill to the brim with candy.

As a child Halloween was a scary time for me. I'm not sure if the world got nicer, but when I was little you heard stories of razor blades with apples every year, it never felt safe to be out and about, and one year some older kids tried to drown, my sweet, black kitty until one of the girls in their group stopped them. After that most of my Halloweens were spent in the cocoon of my home.

Everything changed when Christian was born. I was an adult now, but I got to enjoy Halloween through a child's eyes and it was magical. At that time, Buffy was our sole pug, but soon Vader followed and as the years passed they joined us Trick or Treatin'. Other nieces and nephews arrived on the scene and so did other pugs, but most years I find myself at Chesne's house for pictures and to see her kids don their costumes and hit the road. I usually meet up with the other nieces and nephews and we have a blast.

This year, unfortunately, I had to take my father to the airport, so I had to miss out on the traditional Halloween fun, but not on Halloween itself. After the airport, the pugs and I (all three of us dressed in matching Rolling Stone tees) managed to catch another Halloween first -- my niece Ellie's first Halloween. She dressed as a cupcake and was decidedly sweet enough to eat.

We all piled into the car to go Trick or Treatin' in Waterbury and even managed to get egged by a passing youngster. We decided to forgo the crowds and take a ride to the famous Ellie's Pumpkin display in Northfield, Vt. only to discover that it was not on this year. Part of us was disappointed -- we wanted to take pictures of Ellie in front of Ellie's Pumpkin Patch display -- but the other part was happy that we were all together. The magic, it turns out comes from that.