Hey friends. It’s me Pugsley again and I’m not at all a happy pug. Cousin Sammy was visiting from Seattle and she and mom went to the Devon Horse Show last night. I was going to go with them to watch the events and eat a funnel cake until I went online and saw that there were no pony rides for us kids. HOW CAN THERE BE NO PONY RIDES AT A HORSE SHOW? It’s just not right….so I boycotted. And besides, Cousin Sammy was the first to tell me that I had divergent strabismus – that’s the opposite of cross-eyed when your eyeballs veer off in opposite directions away from your nose. I’ve been self-conscious ever since, which is why you see me wearing my Doggles a lot. I love her, but I don’t need more angst. She might notice that I’m bow-legged and tell mom to get me corrective pawwear.
Last night was the jumping and coaching events, which looks elegant in the photos, but not very practical even if you were titled in 19th century England. I’ll keep our car thank you very much. I like getting to the pet store a few miles away in less than a week.
Then they saw the pony scurry event.
Some of the ponies were so tiny and cute like the ones below.
Others were huge and were drawing very tall carriages. One pony scurried so sharply to hit the next hazard that the carriage and riders toppled. Mom said she could see it happening in slow motion and there wasn’t a darn thing anyone could do about it except hope that the riders weren’t crushed under the carriage and that the pony didn’t get hurt. Luckily everyone was fine. That wouldn’t have happened if I was riding the pony. I’m just saying……
Look at the little ponies lined up with the big ones. That’s really not fair because there’s no way the little ones can beat the time of the big ones. They have to take three steps for every one of the big pony’s. What kind of category is this anyway?
Mom got home really late last night and I was bored out of my mind while she was out. I didn’t climb any walls or create more art, but let’s just say I’m in the dog house.
While mom was out I pulled paperwork off of the dining room table. So what if it was neatly filed and in project racks? I also tossed some bookends and books off the table; a container of toothpicks off the kitchen counter (I wanted to play Pick Up Sticks); the towels and the pig potholder off the towel holders in the kitchen; more paperwork in the small “waiting to be filed” bin that I moved across the floor and kicked onto its side (it was like a piñata); all the papers in the large bin that is twice my size and used to contain my food until I figured out how to get it open and binge eat; and too many other things to list. Mom went out yesterday morning and bought new pillows. They weren’t even out of the plastic yet, but they looked so big and fluffy so I broke them in with a little tinkle. It wasn’t so funny when my nose was smushed into the pillow and I got a lecture. I guess the worst thing were the vertical blinds. I didn’t mean to pull them down and break them. I just wanted to look outside at all my neighbors barbequing. It smelled sooooooo good! I don’t see why mom has to replace the whole window treatment. I think the raggedy edges add character.
Boy did I get in trouble. Even so, mom says you should never go to bed angry so she kissed me goodnight and tucked me into bed. I think I heard her sobbing into her old, but clean pillow and talking to God. I heard some mumbling about doing something evil in a previous life, but I didn’t understand what that meant. I was so upset and couldn’t sleep. My tummy hurt because mom was so angry with me and I hurled on the floor about 3 am. As if things weren’t bad enough, I woke up mom. I just can’t help it. I have separation anxiety!
This morning I walked by the computer and mom was on the FEMA website looking to see if we qualify for federal funding. There were all kinds of disaster categories, but none for neurotic pugs. Tio Jonathan, what’s a neurosis and how did I get it?
Mom’s been sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, deep cleaning, spraying, drying out the papers with the yellow stains on them (I don’t know how they got there), copying the important ones and throwing out the tattered remains of the rest. I would help, but it’s probably best to stay out of her way.
I guess I should have gone to the horse show, huh?
Please bake me a doggie cake with a file in it for when mom confines me to doggie prison. I may be there a while. Apparently moms decide whether or not you get a jury trial.