Twas the Night Before Christmas, as told by Andy the Pug

'Twas the night before Christmas, quarter past Ten Not a creature was stirring, not even young Ben The stockings were hung high out of my reach Waiting for Santa to put goodies in each. The tree was a-glistening with tinsel and glitter Santa'd long left the North Pole, according to Twitter. Sprawled out on the rug by a dying fire glow, I laid there in waiting for St Nick to show. Determined to meet him and then plead my case I knew my best chance was to meet face to face See, last week I made list of both naughty and nice And I read it and then I re-read it twice! I couldn't believe what I saw could be true, My "naughty" outweighed "nice"  twenty to two.  This pug was in danger of a stocking with coal No pug snacks, nor pug toys nor a new water bowl. So I laid there in waiting for that jolly old elf and I chuckled with glee, in spite of myself I would beg, I would bargain and if that didn't pay. I'd ransack his goodies as he looked away. In his sack there was surely a bone of pure bliss, or chew toy, or tennis ball he'd never miss. If I borrowed one item and nothing else more, Next year, I'd be nicer, settling the score   The cookies and milk were laid out on the table, Though tempted, I left them, but I barely was able Then my ears perked a bit, as I thought I did hear, Some ho-hoing and landing of a sleigh and reindeer "What's that?" I exclaimed, "I swear 'tis a jingle!" And I looked at the chimney and down came Kris Kringle With a sack full of toys and a charitable grin A beard of pure white which covered his chin Under couch I was hiding, determined to spy To wait for my chance and then pounce forth and try To persuade Dear old Santa to reconsider his list and by hook or by crook I'd make off with a gift First he made for the cookies delighting in each Washed them down with the milk then he started to reach In his sack and pulled out gifts for the others For mother, and sister and each of my brothers. Each gift was quite perfect, hand-tailored with care This didn't seem right, this wouldn't be fair. If I "borrowed" a gift from Santa this night Would some other be cheated?  That didn't seem right From my hiding place I continued to view St Nick and his presents and each stocking too First to Lily and Rex he'd provided a toy And delectable treats for each to enjoy Though not filled with coal, my stocking laid bare. As I hid and did watch I was filled with despair. Then Santa Claus turned, up the chimney to go, I had to act fast, I could not be slow. But around Santa turned and to my great surprise Found my hiding place and looked me right in my eyes. "Come out little pug, come out to see A present for you, wrapped under the tree." Though indeed it's quite true, you're a mischievous boy Still I think you'll find at least one little toy. And I leapt up quite joyful and searched 'neath the tree.  There were pug snacks and toys, and balls just for me. I jumped up to kiss Santa and give him a hug And to thank him for loving a mischievous pug But he was gone up the chimney and prepared to take flight, Shouting "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Time for that Holiday Spirit

 Really?  Is it really time for that holiday spirit?  Seems like Kelly just took the giant Pirate Skeleton and collection of witches and zombies out of the front yard.  Can it really be time for Thanksgiving and then Christmas?  Apparently so.  And of course, here it is mid-November and I have done no shopping.  OK, true, pugs don't actually shop.  But each holiday season I like to go out and catch a nice mole, or perhaps a bird and leave it for my people.  It's just a little thing I do to say thank you for all they do year round.  I haven't had a chance to do that yet, so I better get going.  In addition, it's also time that I make out my letter to Santa.  Here's what I have so far:

Dear Santa Claws,
As I do every year, it is once again time to write to you and remind you of what an extraordinary Pug I am and instruct you ( um, request you) to fill my stockings with various delectable goodies.  Please recall the following instances of my worthiness.


1.  Remember that fist time Kelly tried to put me on a leash?  The conversation went something like this:
     Kelly:  "Pug, let's put this leash on you."
      Pug:  "I'd rather not."
     Kelly, "Please Pug, come out from underneath the table.  It's just a leash."
    "No thank you."
    Kelly, "Pug GET OVER HERE SO I CAN PUT THE @#@$#!! LEASH ON YOU.
    Pug:  "Nope"
    Kelly:  "You can't go for a walk with out it.  I'll just take Lily and Rex and you'll be here all alone."
     Pug:  "Fine"
***Well, as an example of my goodness, while they were out, I went and pooped BEHIND the bed, instead of out front where everyone would step in it.  As a matter of fact, I hid it so well, that they didn't notice until it was well dessicated and shriveled up. Very thoughtful, wouldn't you say?

2.  And then there was that time in the summer.  Remember that little boy next door?  Playing with that dangerous ball?  He could have put an eye out with that thing.  It could have also been a choking hazard.  He might have chased it out into the street into traffic.  Really, it was for it's own good.  No one even knew it was missing.  Later, there may have been some crying and/or screaming...something about a lost toy.  All I know was that it was in safe keeping.

3.  Once, Shari and Kelly put me in the bathtub. Oh never mind that incident, Santa.  Forget I mentioned it.

4.  I hate a dish towel. I can't help but feel they are somehow sinister in nature.  The dish towel and the pug are as mortal enemies as the mongoose and the cobra.  I consider it my job to eradicate them from the earth, and I'm doing so one towel at a time.  The back yard looks like a terry cloth burial ground.  Just doing my part to keep the world safe.  

5.  I make an excellent alarm clock.  Since both my mamas have to be at work by 8:30, I make sure to wake them up every day at 4:00 am, just to make sure they have plenty of time to get ready.  I might also add that I perform this service tirelessly, without so much as a word of thanks!

Well, really Santa, I could go on and on. I could tell you of stories of bravery and fierceness unparalleled by others, but I am a modest Pug by nature and don't like to brag.  At any rate, I'm hoping you'll come to the obvious conclusion and include me on the "nice" list, instead of the "naughty" list like last year.  It really was all a misunderstanding.  And I certainly would never have lapped up that glass of milk and eaten those cookies had I known they were for you.  No hard feelings right?

Assuming we're in agreement as to my "nice" status, here are my requests:
*Heated dog bed--it gets cold in the winter, and I never would have chewed the last one up if I had known how much I would miss it. 

*Punching bag with Rex's face on it.

*Collar with a bell for Lily.  I hate it when she jumps out of nowhere and pounces on me.  

*Lots of Pug snacks (of course)

*Maybe a nice dead rodent for my mamas in case I don't get a chance to do my shopping.

Thanks Santa.  I'll try not to bark at the reindeer this year.

Love,
Andy "Pug" Morrison-Handerhan

Pug's happy birthday

Yep, it's true.  On this day two short years ago, a star shone in the west and a pug was born unto two wise women.  A lot has happened since then.  Rex came along a few months back.  That was a big adjustment--he's a big-eared goofball, but he is warm and good for cuddling during naps, so that's ok.  However, recently, there's a new little one in our house.  I know what you're thinking....no, it's not another adorable pug.  It's a baby.  Seriously, a baby.  I mean these two have to be pushing 40...what are they thinking?!?  They can't even keep up with me on a good day.  I don't think either of them have ever caught a squirrel.  How can they properly raise a child?  Looks like it's going to be up to me, Lily and Rex to look after him.  Like this morning.  Ben was in his little seat, just hanging out.  He'd eaten earlier, so he had milk all over his hands.  Well, I couldn't let that sweet little boy go wandering around with dirty hands, so I did the most logical thing.  Well, the next thing you know, Shari's coming in the room screaming at me.  Fine.  You  don't appreciate me...I'll just go lie down somewhere.  Perfect...what a nice cozy little mini-chair.  It's pug-sized and perfect...ohhhhhhhh....and it's cushion-y.  And you would not believe what came next?!?  I got scolded again!  "Don't lick Ben", "Don't sleep in Ben's chair"  "Ben, Ben, Ben"  What kind of birthday was this?  I'm not sure they even noticed.  Probably because it was BEN's 44th day on the planet.  Well, I've had enough.  I'm leaving.  You can only treat a pug so badly before he up and packs his bags.  Granted I don't have bags per se, but I have a few possessions.  There's that nylabone.  It's in Rex's bed, but I think I can lift it without him knowing.  I've got a set of plastic teething rings I like...then there's that pacifier I found on the floor last week.  I put it under the bed so no one  would know I have it.  Yeah.  I'll show them.  Come sun up, this pug's hitting the road.  I'm gonna go somewhere I'm appreciated.   Hang on.  Kelly's calling me.  Be right back ................................................................................................................................................................................
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MMMMMmmmmmmmmmm...smack, smack, smack.    Chicken treat.  Kelly called me in there really quiet so none of the other dogs would hear and she sang me happy birthday and gave ONLY me a snack.  Guess it's not so bad around here after all. Besides, Ben's eating again...they're bound to set that bottle down sooner or later!

"A Halloween Tale" by Andy the Pug and Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, as I lay there weak and weary,

In my bed exhausted from the day of play before,

Outside a storm was brewing and I, on bone a-chewing,

Must admit that I'd been stewing, stewing over some grief or treatment poor,

I wanted sleep and nothing more.

And yet somewhere in the darkness, I heard sounds of quiet unrest,

First a rustle, then a request for attention I was sure.

While I chewed upon my bone, I convinced myself alone

"Must  be Rex or Lily simply wrestling on the floor.

This pug wants sleep and nothing more."

As the noise grew ever bolder and the room did become colder

I kept insisting it was the older dogs playing tug-of-war

"Shush Rex and Lily!"  I implored.

But at once there came a yowling or perhaps it was a howling

But it clearly was no growling from dogs playing on the floor

I wondered, "What could make this sound"?  As I knew it was no hound.

My thoughts first came round to tales of banshees from folk lore

My chance of sleep was looking poor. 

Since awakened by this din and determined from within

I decided 'twas no sin were I to get up and explore

To seek source and destination and the cause of my frustration

Perhaps retaliation and to settle up the score.

This pug roused like ne'er before.

Hair on neck and hackles showing, lip turned up and teeth a glowing

I was no coward pup a-going blindly off to war

I was fierce and I was ready, and my nerves were rather steady

The  hunt had made me heady, but then, at once I swore

As pug, I softly swore.

Could it be I'm dreaming?  A most ear-piercing screaming--

The once silent night now teeming with yelps and shrieks galore

Would I ever have the sleep that I adore?

Towards the source I went a trudging, the nursery door I was nudging

Though at first it wasn't budging, but finally opened, then some more

To my horror there was greeting to the wails which were repeating

And the reason for this meeting not five yards from the door

Could peace this pug restore?

Here was an infant of sturdy build and a clear, determined will

And the strength of lung to fill a stadium and more.

"Are you the source of the treason?  What could be your reason

 to disrupt my sleep this season?   Can peace ever be restored?"

This infant I did implore.

As he lay there, loudly crying, a bottle he was eyeing

And there is no denying I was curious what there was in store

I myself had quite a notion the bottle contained delicious potion

An elixir from the ocean of a far and distant shore

Greed eclipsed me from my core.

The pain that was inflicted as my choices were restricted

Now this pug's two loves conflicted and I had to choose for sure

On the one hand I could sip from the bottle at its tip

And who knows what flavors drip from that liquid gold reward?

A pug loves to eat as none before.

Yet I had my own suspicions if I made off with this rendition

Of that baby's sole nutrition there would be much loud crying in store

And though a pug does love to eat, it's at least an equal treat

To lay down and rest his feet (and ears) and nap upon the floor

Choose "eat" or "sleep" was now my chore

And yea, a pug loves sleeping, but I could not resist a-leaping

And I left that baby weeping for his bottle which was no more

And though I feared his sorrow for the bottle I had "borrowed"

Would not cease until the morrow and his cries would flood the ward

A pug's hunger can't be ignored

So I began a lapping from the bottle and its trappings

Delicious goodness, nothing lacking from the loot which I had scored.

I hoped there'd be no trade-off, and that I'd simply made off

With the bottle that was laden with the milk that I adored,

This pug now wanted sleep and nothing more.

Nestled in with belly full, feeling sleep's gentle pull

From the darkness and the lull I heard a stirring heard before.   

The first sounds did nothing harming, and at first were almost charming

But those cries became alarming and did rouse me from my snore

And I startled at a knock upon my door.

Here  I longed for peaceful slumber and for days and nights unnumbered

To sleep most unencumbered by the presence at my door

But it was not to be, so I offered up my plea

"Let's forget this whole darn thing and let me sleep as I slept before."

Quoth the infant, "Nevermore."

So here I end my tragic tale, (while hoping I have told it well)

The story of a pug who fell prey to wanting more.

Please note this poem was started as the midnight hour departed

And do not be disheartened to find its half past four.

Shall I sleep now?  Quoth the infant, "Nevermore."

Introductions

Hello All.  Thanks for dropping by.  Since you're here, I'm assuming you know a little bit about me, but we all know what happens when you assume.  You make an ass out of Sue and ...I forget how it goes.  Anyway, my name is Pug.  My name is actually Andy, but no one calls me that.  When I was a sweet little adorable puppy they called me Andy -that lasted for about a week.  When my owners were mad at me, they called me Pug.  For some reason, it seems like I was being called "Pug" more and more, as in "Pug.  Get out of the trash can."   "Pug stop eating rocks."  "Pug get away from the plastic explosives."  So now I just go by Pug;  it's easier that way.  So here I am a young Pug about town.  Well, not really town.  We live in the suburbs of Washington DC in a little place called Silver Spring.  I should probably also mention that I do not live alone, though if this blog takes off and I can afford my own place...who knows?  But for now I live with my people, Shari and Kelly.  There's also a new small people that has just moved in with us.  His name is either "Ben" or "Oh god, will you please stop crying."  He makes a lot of noise and seems to be the focus of much attention.  I haven't really decided about him, and am reserving judgement.  I also live with two Boston Terriers named Rex and Lily.  Lily is  a toy-hog and Rex farts a lot, but they're ok.   
So why the blog?  I know what you're thinking.  Pugs are a dime a dozen.  Yes, that's true, but how well do you know the pugs around you?  Probably not so well.  You probably don't know that pugs have been revered throughout history and traditionally sought out for their knowledge and wisdom.  It's a well know fact that Julius Ceasar had a pug.  It's widely reputed that it was the pug who actually suggested to Julius to add anchovies and croutons to his salad. This, as clearly as anything shows the unique insight of a pug--"Really?  Small hairy fish on a salad?" "How about some day old bread?" Ok, if the pug thinks its a good idea, let's try it.  And voilla, the Caesar salad was born.  They decided Pug Salad would be a tough sell, so Julius actually got all the credit. At any rate, please come by and look for the occasional word of wisdom or insight from time to time.  Until then, this is Andy, signing off from the Pug's eye view.