Mr. Pug & Mr. Other Pug

Mr. Pug was on the deck, chewing on some furry thing shaped like a dead duck, desperately trying to get at the squeaker inside. All of a sudden Mr. Other Pug ran up the steps from the backyard.

“Hey,” said Mr. Other Pug nonchalantly.

“Hey,” said Mr. Pug, repositioning himself so his butt faced Mr. Other Pug. He softly kept chewing but Mr. Other Pug couldn’t see what Mr. Pug was doing.

“What are you doing?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“Nothing,” said Mr. Pug, repositioning himself again while continuing to gently chew.

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“I just mean nothing,” said Mr. Pug, still chewing. Just then the toy gave out a squeak.

“Wait a second,” said Mr. Other Pug. “That’s Ducky.”

Mr. Pug. stood up, holding Ducky in his mouth, ready to take off.

“That’s my Ducky,” yelled Mr. Other Pug. “You put him down.”

“It’s not yours, it’s mine,” yelled Mr. Pug in reply.

“No, it’s not,” barked Mr. Other Pug.

“Why I oughtta,” said Mr. Pug, raising his fist. Mr. Other Pug shrieked as Mr. Pug caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection from the kitchen door. He lowered his arm.

“Look at us,” he said, embarrassed. ‘This is awful. We’re arguing. Over what?”

“Over my Ducky,” said Mr. Other Pug, defiantly.

“No,” said Mr. Pug. “I mean, what the hell is Ducky? Just some saliva covered fabric and a plastic squeaker, the working mechanisms of which we’ll never fully understand.”

“Well, that’s true,” said Mr. Other Pug. “I could never figure out how she spoke.”

“This shouldn’t get between us,” said Mr. Pug. “We’re best of friends.

“Yeah,” agreed Mr. Other Pug. “But we don’t know how to share. We’re pugs, dammit.”

“We need help from a greater power. A holy man. A maharishi. A Yogi,” said Mr. Pug.

“You mean…?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Pug. ““We ought to make a pilgrimage to the most peaceful pug on the planet. We need to pay homage to Yogi Claude Bailey.”

Mr. Other Pug nodded his head. And Mr. Pug and Mr. Other Pug booked two plane tickets to India. It was a long flight and the seats were uncomfortable and the food was really bad, but they ate it anyway. And when they got to India they realized they were supposed to go to Indiana, not India, so they booked two tickets back to Indiana. It was also a long flight and the seats were also uncomfortable and the food was also really bad, but they ate it anyway. Also.

When they landed at Indiana International Airport they were told that Yogi Claude Bailey could be found at the highest point in Indiana, at 1,257 feet above sea level, in Franklin Township, Wayne County.  Still seeking enlightenment they rented a car and drove north on State Road 227 to Bethel, turning west on Bethel Road, then north on Elliot for about 3/4 of a mile. There they noticed a country path along the south side of the woods marked by a sign that read “Highest Point”.

“Now what?” asked Mr. Other Pug.

“We walk,” said Mr. Pug, leading the way to the crest of the hill where they saw a path heading into the woods.

“The path to enlightenment,” whispered Mr. Other Pug to himself.

Mr. Other Pug stopped to take a pee and Mr. Pug took a poo. Then they kept going, and, in a clearing, they noticed a pile of rocks – the highest point in Indiana. On the top of the pile of rocks sat a pug with his back turned to Mr. Pug and Mr. Other Pug. He was surrounded by sweet, burning incense and was wearing love beads around his puggy neck.  Mr. Pug and Mr. Other Pug  stood silently.

“Come closer,” said the pug, not looking at them.

They didn’t move.

“Come on,” repeated the pug. “I know you are there. I may be old and blind but I am wise and kind and, besides, I could smell you coming from a mile away.”

Mr. Other Pug whispered to Mr. Pug, “I didn’t use deodorant.”

“Shut up,” whispered Mr. Pug back, and then cleared his throat. “Ahem. Are you Yogi Claude Bailey?” asked Mr. Pug.

“That I am,” said the Yogi.

“We have traveled far,” said Mr. Pug, “and we need your wisdom and advice.”

“What can I do for you?” asked the Yogi Claude Bailey.

“Well you see…there’s this toy. It looks like a duck and it belongs to my friend here,” said Mr. Pug. ”But I like it, too.”

“You must not covet your friends possessions,” said the Yogi Claude Bailey.

“And we can’t seem to find it in our hearts to share it,” said Mr. Pug.

“Sharing is caring,” said the Yogi Claude Bailey.

“And it is getting in the way of our friendship,” continued Mr. Pug.

“Friendship is next to kinship,” said the Yogi Claude Bailey.

“And it squeaks like this,” Mr. Other Pug, squeezing Ducky with all his might and making it blurt out a big ‘HONK’!

Yogi Claude Bailey’s eyes opened wide and although he couldn’t see a thing he darted off the rocks and bee-lined right at the boys, grabbing Ducky in his mouth and running through the clearing and into the woods and over the crest and back to the rocks and round and round and round — chewing and chomping on Ducky like there was no tomorrow.

“HONK” shouted Ducky. “HONK, HONK, HONK.”

Mr. Pug and Mr. Other Pug looked at each other and then looked at the Yogi Claude Bailey and gave chase. He was a kind and gentle and wise pug but he could damn well run fast. And so, the three pugs chased each other all afternoon, enlightened that sharing was caring and was way more fun when done with new friends.