Pug Cake!

I saw this cake wandering around Philadelphia on Thursday. I can’t imagine slicing into it. It would become like Miss Havisham’s wedding cake, destined never to be eaten.

Look What Came in the Mail!

Is Pablo getting spoiled or what! Now his favorite mailman has taken to leaving dog biscuits in our mailbox. Today Pablo gobbled his mailbox treats and then, when we ran into the mailman on our morning walk, he scarfed two more. Was the greediest pug on earth satisfied? No. He proceeded to accost every man he met, expecting more treats.

Charge!

Like Teddy Roosevelt leading the Rough Riders up San Juan Hill, Pablo charged up a snow-banked slope on Sunday. As long-time readers of this blog know, Pablo avoids inclines at every opportunity and when faced with a staircase, goes into his classic “I’m-not-budging” stance. So what caused this burst of uncharacteristic activity?

Our mailman. Pablo has a serious crush on this member of the U.S. Postal Service, who always makes a huge fuss over him. It doesn’t hurt that he carries dog biscuits in his mailbag. Pablo has been known to receive three of these treats in one visit. Whenever we go on our morning walk, Pablo scours the vicinity for sightings of this man. For the past week, he’s been on vacation, so Pablo has searched in vain.

Imagine his joy, then, when, on Saturday, he spotted his hero across the street, delivering mail up a steep incline. Pablo attempted to scale the steps. No go. Frantic now, he took off, charging up the embankment. No way could I keep up, so I dropped the leash and watched him scramble up the hill. After a joyful reunion, Pablo gobbled his treats. Now sated, he made it clear he had no intention of coming down, so I had to go up, pick him up, and gingerly bring him down the icy steps.

Here’s Pablo resting after his exertions. Notice the tip of his tongue sticking out.

Burn, Baby, Burn!

It was a bloodthirsty crowd that gathered in Phoenixville, PA, to watch the annual burning of the wooden phoenix. As K and I stood among them on a thankfully warm Saturday night we heard them chant, “Burn the bird! Burn the bird!” If it weren’t for all the smart phones held high to record the event, I might have imagined myself back in medieval times awaiting the burning of a heretic or witch.

A little after 8 PM, they set the bird afire and the flames inched their way upwards. In the background drums pounded and before long the increasing heat from the burning bonfire warmed our upturned faces. I have to admit I felt a bit sad to see something so wonderfully built and majestic be destroyed. Still it was an impressive sight. We stayed until most of the structure was consumed, then went home to Pablo, who wisely chose to keep his distance from trampling crowds. Besides, the only bird he’d want to see roasting would not be made of wood.

Bye Bye Birdie!

This Saturday the Phoenix will burn (and hopefully be reborn) and yours truly will be there to witness it. This is our first winter in Phoenixville and K and I are excited to partake in its ninth annual Firebird Festival. At 8 PM the almost 30-foot-high wooden phoenix you see above will be ceremonially set afire. The burning symbolizing the rebirth of Phoenixville, which like many former steel town had fallen upon hard times before undergoing a renaissance of sorts. So for those of you who enjoy a really big bonfire, grab a bag of marshmallows and head on over!

We Went to the Dog Park

We recently discovered there’s a once-a-month pug meet-up at our local dog park. Saturday we went to our first one and, sure enough, there were a plethora of pugs milling around. It was a bit nippy and I was chagrined to find many of the dogs bundled up in warm sweaters. Pablo, alas, was coatless, although he didn’t seem to mind. Packed up somewhere in our new house are his winter woolies; I just haven’t uncovered them yet.  As it’s supposed to be in the 70s today, I’m not too concerned. But winter will soon be here so I’d better start searching. Sigh.

Our Dead End Walk

Over the weekend K and I took Pablo on a long walk to take advantage of the glorious day. We ended up at a local cemetery and strolled among the headstones. I almost never let Pablo off leash but I did here and I’m pleased to say he mostly obeyed. My chief worry was he’d lift a leg to one of the headstones–or worse–but he didn’t.

Here are some more photos from our walk:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We Were Blobbed!

Yesterday K and I ambled over to the Colonial Theater in Phoenixville to watch that 1958 B movie classic, The Blob, with Steve McQueen in his first starring role. The Colonial, a restored  1903 theater, has the dubious distinction of being featured in the film. Near the end of the movie, the blob oozes through the vents, surprising Colonial patrons who are watching a horror movie on the screen. The crowd pours out the front door, but not before the blob devours some unfortunate laggers. Phoenixville puts on an annual BlogFest to commemorate the film. On Friday, the festival’s opening, movie patrons reenacted the scene, running out of the theater in mock fear.

Watching the movie was a hoot. I used to catch it on TV when I was a kid. It seemed to always be on then, but I hadn’t seen it in years and so it was like watching it for the first time. Steve McQueen, age 27 when it was filmed, is supposed to be 17 in the movie. Huh? I guess if audiences can swallow that, they can find it credible that able-bodied people couldn’t escape from a slow moving mass of jelly.

Off to the Races!

Phoenixville hosted its first bike race–part of the Chesco Grand Prix–this past Saturday, and K and I toddled down to Bridge and Main Street, folding chairs in tow, to snag a prime viewing spot. With temperatures in the high 90s most of the day we left Pablo home dozing in front of the fan. A wheezing, panting pug is not a pretty sight. The premier pro race (the last of nine races) went for two hours, as the cyclists zipped around town in a 1.3 mile loop thirty-two times. One hundred entrants started and, by my count, less than twenty finished. Did I mention the temps were in the 90s?

Here they come….

And there they go…

Canal Day

Yesterday was Canal Day in our neck of the woods. We’re lucky to live within walking distance of one of the few working locks in PA, located along the Schuylkill River. K and I strolled over to partake of the festivities. We left Pablo at home since the weather was on the humid side and on Saturday, when we tried to take him on a hiking trail, he lasted all of a dozen steps before turning around and hightailing it to the truck. Oh, well, there’s no arguing with a pug.

At Canal Day we did meet this little beauty. She obligingly stopped to pose for her picture.

Then we saw a demonstration of the lock opening.

The day ended with a log joust as contestants battled to  stay out of the muddy canal water. I did my best, but I couldn’t convince K to enter. Maybe next year.