Scribblin' My Life Away...

I enjoy writing. I always have. In high school, whenever there was a writing assignment, I'd usually have it finished before the bell rang. Unlike most folks, I can usually write something coherent and entertaining on demand. I've written stories, poetry, copy for brochures, catalogues, and web sites, music reviews, feature articles, you name it, I've probably written it.

The only thing I enjoy even more is writing music. I find that term to be a misnomer though...I never actually write anything down. I have my reasons for this...but more about them in a minute.

I love creating music that, mere minutes before, didn't exist anywhere but in my head. It's been said that all music is already written and floating around the cosmos...and only a lucky few have the internal receiver to pick up these frequencies. If this is the case, I'm one of the ones with a few crossed wires.

I can't write music on demand. Lord knows I've tried. I can usually come up with a riff or a phrase...but that's about it. As a writer, I've attempted to take poetry, of my own creation, and affix it to music, also of my own...but it always, at least to me, sounded forced. It didn't flow. It took me a few years to learn my #1 rule: Never write anything down. If it gets stuck in my own head, there's a good chance it will get stuck in some else's.

This rule, I think, has served me pretty well. I used to put everything I came up with on cassette tapes...and you know what I ended up with? Boxes of cassette tapes of pretty awful music. It would be safe to say that I've started writing thousands of songs. Blissfully, only a few hundred have survived. Out of those, maybe 100 have been performed anywhere outside of my house and even fewer have ever been professionally, or even semi-professionally recorded.

My friend and mentor in all things rockin', Al Leatherwood, could never overstate the importance of good lyrics. I'd be in the studio with him, and we'd be fleshing out a musical idea of his, and I could never understand why he didn't just throw some lyrics at it until something stuck, and then release the song. It just simply isn't how he works.

All writers have different ways of putting their ideas together. In my case, it's either there or it isn't. Like I said, I have loads of unfinished masterpieces logged away in my brain. Writing solo can be lonely. I've always thought it would be fun to have someone to write with, but anytime I've asked people to write with me, for whatever reasons, they never come through. (Gee....maybe my writing isn't as brilliant as I tend to think it is! LOL)

Writing should be personal. Lyrics don't have to be obvious though...no one needs to hear about a songwriter's personal life in detail. A decent writer can mask things...dress them up in funny costumes that only he or she fully understand. If you're ever taking a creative writing class, and the instructor tries to tell you what a certain writer meant by certain phrases, etc...chances are, that instructor is an idiot who hasn't a clue.  There's a scene from an old Rodney Dangerfield movie, where he's hired Kurt Vonnegut to write a paper about one of Vonnegut's own books. The professor told him that he obviously didn't understand Vonnegut!

I've often been asked about songs of mine...what they mean, what they're about, etc. I rarely have the time to go into any detail...but as I have nothing more pressing to do at the moment, here's some back story on a few of my songs. These are in no particular order.

"Diamonds & Cadillacs"  I might as well start with this one, as I've often been told that this is the song I'll be remembered for after I die. I can tell you this much, it was one of those songs that pretty much hit me all at once. I was sitting in my garage, waiting for our bass player to pick me in the truck, as we were heading to Cleveland for a gig and to do some recording. It was a summer evening and I recall it was muggy out. I'd been rehashing an old, never-finished song of mine called "I Don't Know Why" and was trying to sing it like Charlie Feathers. I tried changing the rhythm a bit...but still nothing. I sat there smoking a cigarette and thinking about Charlie's life and career and what the end would be like for him...and WHAM! The song hit. It originally had a lot more verses but the finished version was all I could ever remember...and it seems to work out just right. Over the years, Leatherwood, Hayden Thompson, Mack Self, Sleep LaBeef and Billy Poore have all expressed interest in covering the song. To date, I believe Hayden Thompson and myself are the only ones to have recorded it. Hayden has done a few different versions of this...some with backing tracks my my band. The released version featured a band from Finland called The Hal Peters Trio. I'll leave it up to you to decide which version is better. I actually had to fight for this song in court once! It pays to file those copyrights!

"Skoodly Boop" A fun little song this is! Ridiculous title, right? The title came from me scat singing the guitar riff. Until then, it was just called "Untitled Boogie Thing In A". This song has actually had a pretty interesting history. Locals may remember our old band, The Rowdy Bovines, doing this song...but the Bovines weren't the first. Nope, that distinction belonged to The Udder Cats, the offshoot side project of the Bovines! Hence, my having to scat sing the opening guitar riff! I was playing bass and the guitarist, Mark Anderson, was having difficulties learning the riff. Turned out, whenever we played the song live, he & I would just switch instruments on this song. I found the original rehearsal tape of this song not too long ago. Damned near sounded like Motorhead being fronted by Phil Alvin! After a while, The Rowdy Bovines did start doing this song and when I first took The Legendary Tremblers into the studio, we recorded this and it became the 1st song on our 1st release. I've played this around the world. It seemed to scare the British Teddy Boys. Job well done!

"Midnight Blue" Always a personal fave! I wrote this for The Rowdy Bovines and it was a crowd fave. The intro was inspired by my late friend, Danny Gatton. Danny could play anything...any song, in almost any style. He always did a killer version of the Perry Mason theme, as well as a bad ass version of Harlem Nocturne. I recall sitting in my basement, late at night and well into a 2nd or 3rd bottle of wine, forcing myself to get angry enough to write. (that was another of my tricks...I felt, for years, that I wrote best drunk and angry) I came up with the intro...I thought it was so cool...but couldn't find a way to continue the melody. So, I started playing something a bit more punk. When I realized the two were in the same key, I put them together. VOILA! New song! I've recorded this a couple of times but I swear it's haunted. Something always goes wrong when I record it, so I've left it alone for the past 10 years or so. I'm sure the song will let me know when it's ready to come out of hiding.

"Bye Bye" Like I wrote earlier, Leatherwood couldn't emphasize enough about the importance of lyrics. It's just in the past few years that I think I've come into my own, lyrically. Again, this was one of those songs that just HIT! I was working nights at a residential treatement facility for chronic schizophrenics. I usually had a guitar or uke with me, as the clients (who rarely slept at night) enjoyed music, and we'd try a bit of music therapy. It also gave me an excuse to play guitar all night long. I was sitting there, talking with a client, and playing guitar, and the riff came to me. Numerous lines of lyrics started coming to me...most based on time I'd spent in Tennessee. I spent the next half hour (I called it "lunch time") whittling the song down to something manageable. I took some of the lyrics and rewrote them, and some I just made things up. Since it sounded so bluesy, I decided to end with an allusion to the Tommy/Robert Johnson legend about the Devil and the crossroads...but decided to give it a twist. I then played it for a client, a very old, very wrinkly gal who had seen it all in this world...mostly from inside her own mind. I asked her opinion. She told me it was too fast. I slowed it down a bit, and then a bit more, and she finally said "Now you got it!". I recorded this right after I got laid off from that job. As she's since passed on, I think I can safely say THANK YOU VIRGINIA! for her help on this song. It's also the only song I've ever done a real promo video for (thanks to Tom Weber for that!)

"Voodoo Cockatoo" This is the last one I'm going to write about (today anyway). I'm truly proud of this weird little song. We've recorded it...but haven't finished the recording. I plan to have a special guest on it. As for the song itself...just fun fun fun! The past couple of years, I've been experimenting with cutting songs back to make them as basic as possible. Rather than chord changes, I try to change the inflection of different parts of the song. It's an old blues trick that actually dates back to tribal African music. But the lyrics...in all honesty, they came first...at least one line did. Inspiration comes in many forms...and this is no exception! I was lying in bed one night, watching Top Gear UK and Richard Hammond was talking about an Australian ute (utility vehicle...aka a truck) called The Maloo, which, he informed the viewers, means "thunder" in Aborigine. All night, this one little line played through my head. By morning, the rhythm had formulated in my head and I had to do something with this embryonic song! I decided to look up some Aborigine phrases, town names, and those along with some Aussie slang I already know, I formulated what I think just may be the most interesting lyrics I've ever written. The song just fell in place and I couldn't wait to record it! Just before we went to the studio, a friend who I rate extremely high as a musician, agreed to play on the track...only problem, he lives in California and we need to find a way to get him here. So I just left space on the track for him. It'll work out. Until then, I've performed this song publicly, once. It seemed to go over well. I can't wait for the world to hear the finished product!

Well, that's about all the back story I can think up for these. I have so many songs and so many stories. Don't worry...I'm sure you'll hear them all before I'm done. Check back soon.

M

The Royal Spud

Don't get me wrong. I like the UK. I've spent a lot of time there. I have a lot of friends there. It's a fun place (if you can afford it).  The people there are, for the most part, pretty darn cool! Sure, they have some idiots...but we all have idiots, so one can't fault them for it.

I live in the US. A couple hundred years ago, we fought for our independence from the UK. It's not that we don't like the people there...we just wanted to do things our own way...and I'd have to say we've done OK, in general. At least we don't have an official King (except maybe Elvis) or Queen (Latifah? Possibly Oprah....or maybe Martha Stewart, the Evil Queen). Royalty ain't what this country is about!

All of this said, I'm hoping someone can explain this to me: As our drummer and I were heading to rehearsal tonight, we turned onto the 40th Street Bridge and I looked over at the giant, annoying, ever changing, light up billboard and see CONGRATULATIONS WILL & KATE! and there were badly designed, light up Union Jacks all around it. WTF?

Don't get me wrong. I think it's wonderful that they have a healthy new baby boy. What I don't understand is why we, as Americans, should consider this something to celebrate? We have 313.9 million people here in the States. The UK has 62.7 million. Are we congratulating them because they're now one closer to catching up? Was it some amazing bit of modern science that these two inbreds managed to conceive a child that doesn't have flippers? Why is it that we American citizens are supposed to be excited over this? Is it because they're Royals? So what!

This isn't the first royal baby born recently. There have been a number of others...see for yourself:

January 20, 2013. Prince Carl Friedrich and Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia, twin sons of Prince Georg Friedrich and Princess Sophie.
May 9, 2012. Princess Luisa Irene Constance Anna Maria of Bourbon-Parma, daughter of Carlos Xavier and Annemarie [van Weezel], Duke and Duchess of Parma, The Hague.
February 23, 2012. Princess Estelle of Sweden, daughter of Crown Princess Victoria and Prince Daniel, Solna (Stockholm). February 22, 2012. Princess Isabelle d'Orléans, daughter of Charles Philippe Duke and Diane Duchess of Anjou, Lisbon. January 24, 2012. Princess Athena Marguerite Françoise Marie of Denmark, daughter of Prince Joachim and Princess Marie, Copenhagen.
September 27, 2011. Prince Giorgi Bagration Bagrationi of Georgia, son of Prince Davit and Princess Ana. May 24, 2011. Prince Amedeo of Savoy, son of Prince Aimone, Duke of Apulia, and Princess Olga [of Greece], Paris. February 12, 2011. Archduke Luigi Amadeo Thadeus of Austria, son of Archduke Martin of Austria and Princess Katharina [zu Isenburg], Pavia. January 8, 2011. Prince Vincent Frederik Minik Alexander and Princess Josephine Sofie Ivalo Mathilda of Denmark, twin children of Crown Prince Frederik and Crown Princess Mary, Copenhagen.
May 28, 2010. Louis de Bourbon and Alphonse de Bourbon, twin sons of Louis Duke of Anjou and Margarita [Vargas Santaella] Duchess of Anjou, New York. May 20, 2010. Lady Cosima Rose Alexandra Windsor, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Ulster. January 5, 2010. Princess Alva of Bavaria, daughter of Prince Manuel and Princess Anna [zu Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg].

I don't recall any media coverage on these births and I especially don't recall seeing any local billboards! So why the hubbub?

Sure, William's mother was Princess Diana...and we all seemed to think she was special. Why? Because she was pretty. That's really about it. Sure, Kate is pretty too...but what? We don't have pretty women here in the US? Personally, I think we have more than our fair share of hotties here...and ya don't see all of them getting this sort of treatment!

So why all the fuss? I hope the parents raise the kid well. I hope the boy grows up strong and healthy. If the UK decides to retain it's monarchy, he's 3rd in line for the throne. Mind you, all that means is he'll have a cushy job for life and not really have to do much.

So, my fellow Americans, ask yourselves: WHY THE HELL ARE YOU ACTING ALL GOOFY BECAUSE THESE 2 BRITISH KIDS HAD A BABY? 

Happy Memories # 3,178

When I was a teen, I was heavily into punk rock (and speed). I had spikey hair, often dyed different colors, ripped up jeans, the whole "uniform". We didn't see it as such back then...but it is what it is.

A couple of years ago, I had to go to the mall. Ross Park Mall, to be precise. I hate going to the mall...any mall...for any reason. But, it was the holidays and I had to pick something up for dear ol' dad...so off to the mall I went. Luckily, dad will usually tell me, well in advance, what he wants, so it makes it simpler.

So, I'm at the mall, have found dad's gift, and was in the checkout line waiting to get the hell out of there to go home. Behind me was a kid of about 16, dressed almost identically to how I used to dress in my teens! Same hair, many of the same buttons/pins on his jacket, and wearing the same style jacket I wore! (Mind you, my jacket was originally my dad's from the 50's. It was still cool in the 80s, it fit well, and was multipurpose...so of course I took it!) This kid, one could tell, thought he was the coolest, most rebellious kid around.

The kid was with a man that I can only assume was his dad. A guy around my age...but having that "Yes I look worn out. I've been raising kids for 16-18 years and really want a vacation from life" look about him. His wardrobe looked like it came from Sears. This guy looked like he was completely over it all and could really use some fun in his life. Metzger to the rescue!

As I knew it was gonna be a while waiting in line, I eyeballed the kid...lil Sir Punksalot. Don't get me wrong...I love that kids today still dig the same stuff I did growing up...but it also saddens me that they have nothing of their own to claim or want to claim. So I did what one would expect me to do. I fucked with him. Good-natured of course. I didn't want his dad getting all pissed off and starting a scene. Remember...I was doing this for the dad. He needed some fun. OK...I did it to amuse my self too...and to pass some time.

I eyeballed the kid and started reading the buttons/pins/badges all over his jacket. "Yep...I have that one....and that one...and that one... Funny kid...you look just like I did nearly 30 years ago! Take a good look at your future! Old, fat and tired! Yeppers! That's what ya get to look forward to!"

The kid looked humiliated and a tad pissed off. His dad was doing everything he could not to bust out laughing, publicly, at his son. Taking this cue, on I went!

"So, what ya using to spike that hair up? Elmer's glue? Egg whites? Oh wait...no...your generation, you're probably using some $30 hair product..." At this point, the dad, laughing out loud, chimes in, "Oh yeah! This kid drops at least $75 a month on his hair alone!" Then dad proceeds to tell me that junior searched high & low for pre-ripped jeans. He couldn't believe it. He & talked about how back in our day, we just kept wearing our jeans until they wore out...and then kept on wearing them! Mind you, I'm pretty sure Levi's were cheaper then.

The whole time, this kid looked ready to explode. His dad and I had a good time....partly at his son's expense. His dad even commented that his son really is a good kid...just dresses funny. He & I discussed the need for kids to self-express. The kid looked like he was trying to figure out a way to disappear into the floor. Seeing that junior was into punk rock, I suggested a few albums for him. Even told him some good places to find them. Junior muttered "thanks" and his dad, finally looking like some life had crept back into him, told his son to "speak up" and thank the man properly. The dad & I chuckled. The kid was just mortified.

Sometimes it's fun to be a cranky old bastard.

I Hate Me

Catchy title for this piece, dontcha think? If you're expecting to read about my self-loathing and deep-rooted negative emotions, you're likely to be disappointed. But...since you're here, why not finish reading the rest of this and see if it makes any sense to you.

I Hate Me. I've been thinking a lot about these words lately. I read an article last week about record producer Rick Rubin. It seems that when he first started working with the late Johnny Cash (let's face it, Rubin resurrected the man's career!), Rubin suggested that Cash use the words "I" & "Me" less. As a writer myself, it can be tough to omit those words!

We all tend to see the world only through our own eyes. Most of us, regardless of what we think, feel, or believe, lack any true sense of empathy. It would probably be safe to say that even Mother Theresa had her own reasons for doing everything she did. Her actions were noble and positive and helpful to many others...but what was her true motivation? Probably, to impress God. This writer could be wrong...but could also be right.

How often do any of us honestly put others first? When/if we do, there's probably hidden motive. Maybe it makes us feel better about ourself. Maybe it's to impress the proverbial Joneses. In my own case, for 25 years in the mental health field, I enjoyed it and it provided me with a modest yet comfortable living. I also enjoyed the challenges of learning to read people. While my actions were noble, and one could say that most of my motivations were as well, part of it was purely for me.

Since being pushed out of my field, I have found that I still tend to put other's needs before my own. Old habits die hard, I guess. While no longer making my living helping others, I still, at least, try to on a daily basis.

So yes Rick Rubin: "I" & "Me" are words that each of us should probably try to replace whenever possible. But what to put in their place? How about "Us" & "We". That might help us all to see things in a light more in keeping with working towards the greater good.

Now I'm sure that some out there will read up to here and think "how awful!" or "that's communism!" or some such silliness. Those are probably also people who overuse the word "hate". They HATE pimento loaf or they HATE sitting in traffic or they HATE moochers and welfare cheats. But really...what is hate?

Merriam Webster's Dictionary defines hate as "intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury". Fear, anger or sense of injury...all things having to do with "I" & "Me". This scares ME. This angers ME. I feel I have been inured, in some way, by that!  It might be fair to say that we all need more education...which could lead to an eradication of hate.

Fear is most often based on the unknown. Anger often stems from fear of the unknown. A sense of injury is vastly different than an actual injury. (Sitting here right now with a pinched nerve, I can tell you...the worst insult I've ever received has never hurt as bad)

While I can fully understand fearing pimento loaf (Really! What IS that stuff??????) I don't think I can honestly say that I hate it. I'd rather not eat it...but if hungry enough, I would. While sitting in traffic may make me angry at times, to say I hate it is a misnomer. Chances are, if I'm stuck in traffic it's because I didn't plan well enough...nor did a bunch of other folks. So rather than say we hate it...we should probably all laugh at each other....together!

As for moochers, welfare cheats, and the things in life we don't understand...why don't we all try to be a little more understanding? If a beggar wants a dollar to "get something to eat"...but you worry he/she may spend it on booze or dope instead...buy them a sandwich. Or maybe just explain that you can't help. If someone is on welfare, chances are they need it. If you don't believe me, try applying for any kind of assitance. No one is just handing out checks!

No one wants to be poor. No one wants to ask for help...no matter what certain Faux News talking heads and certain politicians want you to believe. Those people are just spreading hate...which remember, is based on fear, anger and/or a sense of injury. It's not hurting anyone. Really.

If you don't understand something...ASK! Research it. Don't just accept the first thing you read or hear. Learn as much as you can. Learn from as many points of view as possible. It will make you a better person...and perhaps bolster those feelings of empathy that we all want...but many don't have. (or should I say 'don't have in abundance')

This life is short. Too short. Definitely too short for hatred, fear, anger, etc. Too short for just I & me. It's a short trip...and we should all try to make it as positive and worthwhile as we can.

For Herm & Ricky. R.I.P. 

CH-CH-CH-CH-CHANGES!!!! (and pugs!)

Let's call this post a two-for-one special!

I quit my job today. I know...sounds crazy...but I gave it long and serious thought. It was a matter of weighing the pros and cons. The cons definitely outweighed the pros. The job kept me in near crippling pain every day. I'm no stranger to pain. I've been in near contant pain for 40 years. I also have a higher than average pain tolerance, which has long been a source of concern for my doctors. Seems I'm prone to hurting myself without knowing it. To some, this may seem like a blessing...until you factor in the long term damage.

I've had back problems for years. I had my 1st spinal surgery in 1998, after 3 years of misdiagnoses (there's that high pain tolerance. Most people would've known something was wrong much earlier. All I got was a headache that wouldn't go away). Since my surgery, I've had nerve damage and pain in my left leg. After many tests and various failed treatments, I simply learned to live with it. You'd be amazed at what you can learn to live with.

Since starting this job, some serious pain has taken hold. The job wasn't difficult...just boring. It also seemed to aggravate my back. The nerve damage/pain in my left leg got worse (I can deal with that) but...my right leg and hip have now joined the party. This means I've hurt something else without knowing it. Every day I'm in some new level of constant pain. I'm finding ways to handle it...but it's not worth making the situation worse...especially for what I was being paid (and no benefits either...so screw that!).

There was also another problem. I will not take threats of a physical nature at work. I go to work to do my job and earn a living...just like anyone else. If I agree to take a job, that means I agree to do the best job I can. Sadly, many others out there don't agree with this. One co-worker in particular.  He and I only worked together once or twice. I had no thoughts about him other than the shared knowledge that work is not his strong suit.

I went to work one day last week only to be informed, before I'd even gotten out the car (!), that this guy was planning to jump me at work at some point during the day. The simple fact that he was sharing this information with so many people made me doubt his credibility and also made note of his obvious need for attention...but 25 years in the mental health field, I learned to take threats seriously. At one point, he & I had words and I realized he was serious. My supervisor was alerted to the situation and took me aside to discuss it. Meetings were arranged, and the usual managerial hooplah involved. The day of the meetings, I was early (as usual) but this other co-worker didn't even bother to show. I was told that he would be terminated.

This guy finally showed up nearly 2 hours late. Of course he whined, cried foul, and due to some family connections within the company, was given a 2nd chance. I was also verbally reprimanded by management for "probably provoking him in some way". A hostile work environment had been created. Supervisors had to rearrange things to keep us in seperate parts of the building. Of course, the threats and insults continued.

That, factored in with the near constant pain, and my desire to not add to my already existing criminal record, and the knowledge that this is a dead end job, gave me food for thought. I have shows lined up through out the month plus I have 2 more paychecks coming, so financially I'm OK. I was about to be offered another job, a more desirable job I might add, when I took this one, so I'm looking into that again. Hopefully there's still a position open. If not...I'll just find something else. I'm also planning on a certification in my field (that I should be able to finish in a matter of weeks), which may possibly open up a few new positions for me.

So all in all, life is OK. I discussed my thoughts and decision-making process with the young'un (who has worked there for almost 6 years) and she agreed with me. This is also motivating her to look for something better for herself...so again, things do seem to happen for a reason. I also got to do some ministering with a young co-worker who has been struggling with some personal issues...and it seems that person is now ready to make some positive life changes. So again, I'm A-OK with all of that.

And now...a story about pugs.

I've always loved pugs. They remind me of little Martian dogs! I've noticed over the past few years that their popularity has increased immensely! They're not the healthiest of critters...but damn, they are just so cute! And they're fun dogs too!

Our mum was an artist. Most people who know me and my family know this. When I was a kid of 4-5 years of age, mum used to take her paintings to this one lady to have them framed. This lady was a bit of a space cadet...her hobbies included astrology and biorhythm charting. She also had a pug. It was the 1st I'd ever seen and damn, it was such a cute, playful little thing! Whenever mum had to go see the frame lady, she'd take me along. While they discussed art, framing, and whatever other weirdo stuff they discussed, I'd be on the floor playing with the pug. This dog just loved me! Dogs and little boys both love attention, and we gave it to each other in heaps! One day, the frame lady asked if I would like to take the dog home with me. Mom was in another part of the shop checking out frame styles for a certain painting, and hadn't heard this offer. We already had 2 rather large dogs; a boxer (Spike) and spaniel mix (Reddy). I was pretty sure that mum, an animal lover, would be thrilled with the idea of adding this adorable little Martian dog to our menagerie (dogs, fish, assorted hamsters, gerbils, and lizards). I was ecstatic, to say the least. This little pug would be MY dog...my constant, snorting, wheezing, 4-legged, curly-tailed, bug-eyed companion. I imagined us playing every day. Then the bomb dropped...

"Mom! She says I can take the pug home with me!!!!!!", I said once I had my mother's attention. The look on her face was one I had never seen. It was the look of HELL NO!!!!!! Mom, in her infinite wisdom, knew that MY dog would most likely become HER responsibility. Feeding it, cleaning up after it, and keeping the other dogs from eating it...those would soon become part of her never-ending job as Mom: Critter Keeper of the House of Metzger. Sure, I'd play with the dog....but the less than fun parts would become mum's job. Then there would be the probable and numerous vet visits...and The Wrath of Dad. Don't get me wrong, our dad liked dogs...he just didn't like surprises. Especially living, breathing, EATING surprises. My brothers, sister and I were great at finding strays...and bringing them home in the hopes of adding to our menagerie. Dad just wasn't hip to it.

Mom, kindly & patiently, explained all the reasons why we couldn't take the dog. Most importantly, that the dog already had a home and it wouldn't be right for me to take this cute dog away from it's home. The frame lady would eventually be sad and miss the pug. I refused to believe this...I mean really, the frame lady wanted to give it away!  Mom explained that she was just being nice. I was a sad little boy that day...until we got home and I got to play with the dogs we already had (and loved and treated like family).

To this day, I still love pugs. They just seem to respond to me...and I to them. Who knows, one of these days I might even add one to my household...provided Day-Z the cat allows it. She barely tolerates the young'un...so I'm not so sure how she would handle a pug.