Pug Tales

Once upon a time, by the dock in a little town called Surry, Maine, there was a very special house. It was special not only for its location, which was next to a babbling brook emptying into the salt water of Surry Reach, but also because this house belonged to a family of little pug dogs. Well, they weren’t a family just yet, because there was only Pugnacious T. and Pugnella R. Findley living in the house, but, as we’ll soon find out, things change.

You see, Pugnella (Nellie to her friends) was pregnant, and she and Pugnacious (Nash to his friends) had been hoping to start a family.

“How nice it would be to have a little Nellie or Nash junior padding around the house to keep things lively!” Nellie would often tell Nash when things got quiet.

Like many houses in the town, their house was a simple - one and a half stories high, a single window in the peak and two roof gables looking out. The house had a handsome dark oak door, with a bright, shiny brass door knocker in the shape of a bone. There were various sheds and barns attached to the house, because it was New England, where the winters are cold and snowy, and one could go from house to shed to barn without having to shovel paths through the snow or go outside in the cold winter wind.

There was a tall chimney made of stones and seashell mortar topped by a fine red clay pot, with a whisper of smoke coming out of the top. It looked perfectly proportioned to fit the size of its occupants.

The light from the windows spilt yellow onto the ground as the light faded to dusk. You would even have to look twice to even see the house, the way it blended in to the hawthorne, juniper, and bayberry along the side of the road where there was usually a chickadee this time of year eating its bright red fruits.

The sight of chickadees was a joy. Even the sometimes grumpy politicians in Augusta saw fit to make it the state bird for Maine. It’s chirping and flitting about dressed in that fine black cap made everyone smile.

One fine day the pugs received a visitor, an important man from the Town Offices, Bill Doak. Just as Bill reached for the brass bone shaped knocker, the door opened. Bill had forgotten that it is almost impossible to approach the pug’s house unannounced, because they can smell you coming up the walkway. The door knocker was merely for decoration.

Standing on his hind legs, with one paw on the door and the other holding a copy of the Ellsworth American, stood a fawn-colored pug dog, a big grin on his shiny black muzzle, his pink tongue quickly darting around his mouth as he greeted Bill:

“Hey Nellie, what a surprise! Bill’s here!” Nash the pug exclaimed to his wife, who was doing something in the back of the house. “Come on in!”

Coming in wasn’t easy for Bill, as he had to stoop down to get through the door, but once he was inside he could stand up, his head just brushing the ceiling.

“Thanks, Nash,” said the man, as he stepped over the threshold into the warm, cozy room. “Nina asked me to stop by to see if Nellie needs anything, and I caught a bit of news that I thought you might find interesting as well!”

(Nina was Bill’s wife, who was always looking out for her neighbors, and more often than not would have a pie in the car she was delivering somewhere, or a game of mahjong to play with shut-ins who couldn’t get out of their houses in the wintertime.)

As Bill put his coat on the hook he looked around the room. The first thing he spied was a pair of candle lanterns on cleverly bent iron hooks high on the walls. The inside of the house was paneled with warm pine boards, and beautifully fitted cherry wood beams held up the roof. There was a mellow color to the wood, having been coated with years of smoke and pipe tobacco. At the peak of the room there was a loft, and a ladder made of smooth oak branches reaching up from the first floor. In the back, behind a curtain Bill could hear Nellie working away on something. It was never certain what Nellie was up to behind that curtain or out in the shed, because not only was she one of the best pie bakers in town, she also was a renowned inventor of handy and amazing devices for home and industry.

Bill looked around the room for a place to sit. Bill had very expressive eyebrows that moved independently of one another when he was thinking hard. Just now they were moving up and down like black caterpillars as he looked at the easy chair, where the pug had been sitting, then at the rocking chair, which was way too small to sit in, and the big padded bed by the stove. He shrugged and decided to lie down on the bed and was immediately happy with his choice. The bed smelled of fresh pine and balsam needles, and was covered with soft wool. Bill rested his head on his hand, elbow on the floor and waited for Nash to sit down. It was very comfortable, with the warm stove and soft lights, and for a minute Bill had an urge to settle in for a nap.

Now you might think that this is a highly unusual state of affairs, a talking dog living in a house and reading the newspaper by a nice fire in a wood stove, and you might be right. But it isn’t unusual for this particular town, where all sorts of people and creatures make their happy way through the beautiful, summers and snowy winters. In fact, Surry by the Sea is one of the most unusual (some would say even magical) places in the entire state.

Once Bill had settled in, Nash sat back down in his easy chair and said “Now what brings you out tonight, Bill? We just saw each other at the volunteer fire department meeting this afternoon!”

(The pug was known at the fire department not only for his punctuality, but as the best firefighter to have around when you needed to snuff out a fire really quickly by throwing dirt on it.)

“Well Nash,” Bill said, “I thought you should be the first to know that the St. James family out on Newberry Neck is thinking about putting a swimming pool in - thought you might be interested since they’ll need a big hole for it.”

Pugnacious was known far and wide as the best hole digger you could find, whether you were putting up a new mailbox or digging fence post holes. One year he even got the contract to dig telephone pole holes all the way to Blue Hill, which made for a very busy and profitable summer.

“This swimming pool project would be just the thing,” said Pugnacious, “because I’ve got some big expenses coming up!, As you probably know,…….”

Before they could take the conversation any further, they heard a big rattling of pans out in the kitchen, and Nellie called out, “Nash, you better get in here, fast!”

In alarm, Pugnacious jumped down from his chair and went into the kitchen in a mad dash. Before Bill was even out of the chair to see what was up, Nash came panting back into the room, eyes wild, and his tail curling and uncurling so fast it looked like a window fan. ​ “Bill, thanks for coming,” Nash hurried, “But if you’ll excuse me, Nellie and I are about to become parents!!!”

And that is how the story begins!

To Be Continued…

Continued from last week…

“Bill, thanks for coming,” Nash exclaimed, “But if you’ll excuse me, Nellie and I are about to become parents!”

That was the last thing Bill heard from Nash as he ran to the back of the house where Nellie had been working. Knowing that this was a special and private time for the pugs, Bill put his coat back on and quietly made his way out the front door and onto the front walk. He half-turned toward the homey house with its cozy fire and warmly lit windows, and thought, “it’s about to get a lot busier and a lot noisier in there!” With a smile at that last thought, he made his way back to his car, whistling softly as he made his way.

Meanwhile, back in the house, Nash was beside himself, running around, trying to think of something he could do.

“Should I boil some water?” he asked Nell, “they always seem to do that in the movies. How about pillows - you want some pillows? Maybe I should call a doctor. Do you want me to make you something to eat?” The more he asked the more agitated he got, panting and running around in circles. His tail was curling and uncurling in anticipation and worry. “Just come sit beside me, Nash”, Nellie said, “I’m feeling fine, and no, I don’t need anything other than my big strong pug to lie beside me while we wait for the babies to arrive.” It was unbelievable how calm Nellie was, and she lay on her side on the kitchen floor. Nash brought her some blankets and pillows and tried to make her as comfortable as he could. She looked at him with her big brown eyes and didn’t say anything, but he knew that she was grateful for his attentions. With that done, Pugnacious lay down to give Nellie his warmth, and they waited together for her to be ready to have her babies. Neither of them knew how many babies there would be, although both Nellie and Pugnacious’s families tended toward small litters of one or two pups. Small litters were not always the case - Nellie’s Aunt Nan (all the women in Nellie’s family had names that began with “N”) had a litter of 8! However many there would be, Nash and Nellie knew that they would love them all, and they were looking forward to having the sounds of little pugs fill the house with squeals and laughter in the coming years. Around midnight, Nash felt Nellie give a stir, and he felt the smallest of nudges of her back legs against his back. Another nudge and he was fully awake. He turned over and gave Nell a lick. She said softly, “They’re coming, Nash.” And as quick as that, a little baby pug face appeared, eyes squished shut. Nell gave another push and the pup popped out like a cork from a bottle and landed on the blanket. Nash gave the pup a nudge and a lick, and she mewled softly and wiggled her nose and paws at the same time. Nash carefully picked her up in his teeth by the fat little rolls of her neck and put her next to Nell, who started to lick her all over. The little pup was light fawn colored with a pretty black face and muzzle, and a black tip on a curly tail. “Why she looks just like my mother!” Nellie said. The little pup continued to wiggle and mewl and Nellie said “I think her pup name is going to have to be Pugwiggly!” (Pugs always give their pups puppy names that start with “Pug”, a name that they keep until they are old enough for their adult names. But sometimes the puppy names stick for life.) Just then Nellie gave another little push with her hind leg, and Nash thought, “Well here comes the second one, we’re going to have a pair of puppies after all!”

And sure enough, another little pug with squinty little black eyes in a pure black face appeared. And then popped out. This one had a very short straight tail, with a white tip. Pugs generally have curly tails that pile up on their backs like a little tornado, and sometimes they needed to be trained to curl properly. Nash didn’t care one whit that the pup’s tail wasn’t regulation just yet. He gave this one a nudge and a lick and noticed that the reason that his tail looked short was because he was a great deal fatter than his sister. In fact, now that he was looking Nash noticed that the pup was so chubby that he could hardly see his pug paws. He couldn’t get his balance so he just rolled over and over when he was licked. Although he didn’t make a sound, Nash could tell he was hungry, because he was already making sucking motions with his puppy lips and wanted to get to Nellie’s nipple. Unfortunately with no usable legs just yet he couldn’t move, so Nash nuzzled him to the nearest nipple and he began to feed.

“I think we’re going to need to call him Pugwaddly,” he said, and so the name stuck.

Nell sighed contentedly, happy that they had two healthy pups, and her work done, she put her head back down on the pillow to rest.

“How lucky we are,” she said, “to have a happy and healthy family, all together and in one place!”

This was not to be the last time she had such a sentiment!

It was now three o’clock in the morning, and the Findlay family was resting comfortably- Nellie on her side, Nash next to her, and the two pups, Pugwiggly and Pugwaddly happy and contented and full of mother’s milk all snuggled up between their parents. Suddenly Nellie’s foot gave a twitch and then a jump. Nash started and his eyes popped open. “What’s the matter Nellie?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Nash, but I think maybe…”

Just then a little pug face appeared and POP! a little tiny pug, half the size of his brother and sister suddenly appeared. He was fawn, like his brother and sister, with a cute little miniature shiny black muzzle, but his ears- one was black and the other was fawn! And his tail! His tail was striped, just like a raccoon, and straight as an arrow. The little pup’s eyes were wide open, and he was looking right at his dad and mom, and he hopped right up onto his legs and started turning round and around, faster and faster. When he was done with this, he ran right up to Nash and Nellie’s faces and licked them all over.

Then if all of this behavior wasn’t a surprise enough, Nash and Nellie both heard him say, “Hi, mom and dad!” before he disappeared and wiggled between his brother and sister and started to nurse lustily away.

Nash and Nellie just looked at each other, too shocked by what had just happened for words. Then they both burst out laughing at this delightful surprise. Not only was their last and tiniest pug a big surprise, he also was talking a full 4 weeks before pugs normally start to talk.

Although he looked a little like Nash, and a little like Nell - at least he had one of each of their ears - that tail was unmistakable. It was exactly like Nash’s uncle Chester, who was one of the most popular and craziest pugs in all of Hancock county. He was mostly famous for his madcap antics that landed him in the pages of the Ellsworth American, the Blue Hill Packet, and sometimes even in the Bangor Daily News when he was only a pup. Eventually he launched a stage career and was currently on tour somewhere in the Far East with a circus troupe. Uncle Chester was an altogether zany, fun and crazy pug who was loved by everyone.

“Well I guess there is no doubt what this little fellow’s puppy name will be,” said Pugnacious, “He’ll have his great-uncle Chester’s puppy name. Welcome to the family, Pugnuts!”

Continued …

“Well I guess there is no doubt what this little fellow’s puppy name will be,” said Pugnacious, “He’ll have his great-uncle Chester’s puppy name. Welcome to the family, Pugnuts!”

It had been three months since the puppies were born, and the initial excitement had settled down into a comfortable routine. Puppies are very cute and fun to look at and play with at first, but there generally isn’t a lot that can be written about them that is adventurous or interesting, other than they get into everything and generally make everyone who sees them smile.

Pugwiggly, Pugwaddly and Pugnuts were growing fast on their mother’s rich milk. Their mother Pugnella was back in her workshop inventing marvelous devices for home and factory, and Pugnacious was back digging holes in Surry and the surrounding villages in Hancock County.

On this cold late winter’s day it was snowing heavily and Pugnacious decided to stay home by the warm wood stove. He had just settled into his chair with his pipe and the latest copy of the Ellsworth American when the puppies came racing in from the workshop. Round and round his chair they went. When they finally caught up with each other they tumbled into a big ball of paws and wagging tails on the braided rug. “Come over here, kids,” Nash rumbled, “before you break something. Let me tell you a story!”

The puppies raced to his feet. Pug puppies grow up very quickly, so it wasn’t unusual for them to be speaking and listening to stories, even at three months old. Their father and mother had already told them many interesting things about the goings-on outside the house and the town. They were too young to venture outside, but were intensely curious about what was beyond the front door.

Pugnacious took a sip of his tea while the puppies settled in. Pugwaddly (who had lost enough of his puppy fat to be able to run around the house) waddled over first and flopped onto the floor, his nose resting on their father’s slipper. Pugnuts ran over, turning around and around before he lay down next to his brother. Pugwiggly waited until they were both settled in, and then dove between her two brothers, wiggled her head and popped up with a squeak, resting her chin on her father’s other slipper. Then they all gave a big shiver and sigh, and looked up at their daddy with big brown eyes, pink tongues curling as they panted. ​ “Today, children,” Pugnacious said with great seriousness, “I’m going to tell you about your family history.”

“The first thing to know,” said their father, “is that our family was not always from Surry, and didn’t always live in this house, with its cozy woodstove. In fact, your ancestors came from a land far, far away, over an ocean, a very long time ago.

The little pug puppies’ ears were standing straight up and their heads went to and fro as they listened to their father.

“2500 years ago, in a land called China, there was a cruel Prince. At the time of this story it was springtime, a time when the gardens were in bloom and people should have been happy. Winter was over and the days were getting bright and sunny. But in the kingdom, all was gloomy. You see, the Prince was sad and so were his subjects.

In fact, the Prince was so unhappy he wanted everyone around him to be as sad as he was. He punished his farmers when it didn't rain, even though they couldn't do anything about it. He punished his cooks if his food was served too hot, and he punished his tailor if his clothes were too tight. He was despised by his people but nobody dared to tell him so. Even the trees and flowers seemed to droop in the gloomy rains and mists.

One day the Prince was stomping around in his garden. Just as he was reaching a towering rage, he heard a tiny yip and snuffling noise from the other side of the courtyard wall.. He then heard a “shh” sound.

”What is this and this noise and who dares to infringe upon my meditation!” he cried, but the tiny yip and snuffling continued.

”Call the guard!” the Prince cried, “My rest has been disturbed, and I WILL HAVE JUSTICE!”

The guards came immediately and the Prince ordered them to bring the people responsible before him so he could think up an appropriate punishment for them.

“Maybe that will make my day a little happier,” the prince thought gloomily.

The guards rushed out to the village, to the courtyard of the house next to the Prince's garden wall, and soon returned with a family of pot-makers.

The Prince thundered, “Who are these people who would dare to interrupt the Prince's peace?”

”I am but your humble servant,” said the potter, “and this is my wife and my three children. We hope only to live our lives in peace and to serve you faithfully.”

”Well,” snarled the Prince, “you have certainly not served me faithfully this day, and you and your family shall be punished soundly for disturbing my peace!”

The prince rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he thought of the many ways he could make the peasants miserable.

Just then the the same yip and snorting sound that the Prince heard earlier came from a bundle held by the youngest potter's daughter Ping.

”What is that noise,” cried the Prince. ”Come forward and explain yourselves!”

The little girl, trembling, came forward and held out the bundle to show the Prince.

Her eyes downcast, she folded away the cloth. “She was on our doorstep this morning. I don't know where she came from, but she is about to have her puppies,” said the little girl.

When she drew back the cloth, the most marvelous face appeared. This was the first time the world had seen a pug.

Staring up at the Prince was a fawn colored face with enormous and watery brown eyes. It was a dog with a funny pushed in nose. Her entire mouth was a bright shiny black. She was fawn colored, and she had short, stubby legs, a round belly, and a tail that curled so much on her back it looked like a pork bun. Her mouth was turned down a little and made her look a little sad. Her eyes captivated the Prince. She looked at him soulfully and snuffled a little. Then she rolled her eyes and curled her tongue and sighed, and looked at him again as if the entire weight of the world was on her shoulders.

”What happened next?” cried the children. “What happened to the potter's family? What was the pug's name?”

”The pug’s name was Ming Sue, and she is the Mother of All Pugs. We don’t know where she came from, but until that moment the world didn’t know about Pugs. It was Ming Sue who established the standard for all of us. Now of course we are all known for our big eyes, doleful expressions, flat faces, and curly tongues and tails.” Pugnacious said, blinking over his reading glasses. He continued with the story.

The Prince looked into those big brown eyes and was immediately under their spell. He had never seen such a face, and he had never felt that anyone else could feel the way he felt, but here it was, written plainly on Ming Sue’s face for him to see.

Ming Sue looked into the Prince's eyes.

”Why are you so sad?” she seemed to say. “Why do you make your people so sad and treat them so badly?

Her eyes shifted to the family of potters. “Why are you making these good people so fearful?”

The Prince felt a deep, hollow in the pit of his stomach to see such sadness and commanded his guards to take the family back to their home.

But all the while the prince thought “I must see this dog again. Only she seems to understand the sadness in my soul.”

The next day the Prince sent his guards with gold to the family to purchase the pug, even though he could have taken her for his own. Ming Sue, heavy with her litter of puppies, waddled to the door and went with the guards as if she knew that this was where she was supposed to go in the first place when she came to the village.

Ming Sue was brought before the Prince, and before he could gesture her forward, she walked up the long hallway, up the steps to the throne, and lay down on the Prince’s slippers. It was hard to believe that any animal would choose to be near such a sour and evil Prince.

Ming Sue looked up at the Prince with her big brown watery eyes, and her doleful expression. She looked like a sad clown.

The Prince laughed with delight! From that moment on, as long has Ming Sue was at the Prince’s side he remembered that there was always someone in the world that was sadder than he was, and he only had to look at Ming Sue to know that even when you are unhappy you can sometimes smile. From that day onward, his kingdom was the happiest in China, and people came from far and wide to see Ming Sue. Soon Pugs were sitting at the feet of all the princes and even the emperor of China, and though the emperor wielded great power, his pugs wielded even greater power over him.

“And that is where we pugs come from”, the puppy’s father finished the tale, looking at his own little pups, now sleepily snuggling at his feet.

He looked over to the kitchen door and saw Pugnella standing there listening. She padded over to him and gave him a lick on his head. Pugnacious T Findlay, father and storyteller, settled back into his chair, snapped open his newspaper to the editorials, and sighed contentedly as the fire snapped in the stove and the wind blew fluffy snow against the windows.

“I guess I’m the Prince now!”, he thought contentedly, as he wiggled his toes into the warm puppy fat on the floor.

​

It was a late spring morning - the kind that sets youngsters toward puddles, building dams in the spring runoff and running across fields of bent winter hay. The meadow smelled of winter mildew and spring mud but was solid enough to keep the pug’s little paws dry as they looked for adventure. ​ Pugnuts was exploring the fields across the lane toward the mouth of Surry Reach. This area was forbidden because it was too far from the house. Pugnella had told them about the danger of eagles, who preyed on rabbits and voles, and who wouldn't know the difference between a rabbit and a pug until it was too late. They were not to stray too far from the house without her to bark to keep the predators away. Once an eagle decided you were dinner, there was nothing you could do about it.

Pugnuts was following a small stream of melted snow and was not paying any attention. He didn’t mean to disobey his mother, he was just curious about where the water was going as it sent bits of leaves from last year twirling down the ditch. He was leaning over and looking at a leaf when a shadow suddenly darkened the light.

When he turned to look, a big yellow talon came from seemingly no where! The hard knock of the impact shocked him and he felt a very uncomfortable pressure around his neck. He opened his eyes and couldn’t believe what he saw. The steeple of the Surry church, the roof of the ice cream shop and the blue water of Surry Reach were quickly receding. He was flying, but it wasn’t fun at all! The buildings spun dizzily as the eagle spiraled up into the enormous blue sky and bright sun. Pugnut’s eyes hurt from the light and he could barely see his mother as she ran out into the field, calling his name. As the eagle turned west he heard his mother call Puuuuuugnuts… and then it faded and all he heard was the wind.

The eagle flew south toward Newberry Neck, a long spit of land that reached out toward Mt. Desert Island and Patten Bay.

Pugnuts was terrified and limp with fear. The wind whooshed through the huge eagle's wings and the eagle had no replies for his whimpers. The deadly silence told Pugnuts that a terrible fate was approaching.

“I’m going to get eaten, just like mom said”, Pugnuts moaned as they passed over a cloud. “I should have stayed closer to home.”

Then Pugnuts thought he heard a new noise. He opened one eye and saw a huge flock of seagulls chasing them!

Suddenly there was a loud screaming and squawking - a huge flock of seagulls was chasing them!

”Let him go!!! You've got a little puppy!!!! That's Pugnuts!!!” they cried.

The eagle ignored them and kept flying, spiraling higher and higher. He knew that the seagulls would not be able to catch up with him if he got high enough, and there were fledglings to be fed at his nest.

Back at the house, Pugnella collapsed on the doorstep. “My baby Pugnuts, why did you wander?” She kept looking up to see if maybe he was still there, but there was nothing but the big blue sky and the bright sun. Pugwiggly and Pugwaddly padded to the doorstep and knew something was wrong, but all Pugnella could do is shake her head and stare at the sky. The eagle and Pugnuts were gone!

As she laid there, a lone seagull flew down to the doorstep.

“Don’t worry, Pugnella,” the seagull cried, “We’re going to bring Pugnuts back to you”. Pugnella looked at the pretty white and grey gull with a faint spark of hope. “What can a seagull do to stop an eagle?”

The seagull just looked at her and said, “Maybe not much, but we’ve got lots of seagulls, and we’re not going to let that eagle have Pugnuts for dinner!”

The seagull glanced longingly at the garbage bags in the shed, then gave a little hop and flew off to the south toward the rapidly growing flock that was forming in the distance.

Now anyone can tell you that seagulls always avoid eagles, because the big birds attack and eat them. Eagles aren’t wicked birds, but they are aloof and some would even say snobby. They like seagulls enough for dinner, but don’t like to chit-chat or pass the time of day with them. Seagulls, in contrast, are very sociable and sometimes even nosy - always into other people's businesses and gossiping.

Being so engaged with everything going on in Surry, the seagulls knew all about Pugnacious, Pugnella, Pugwiggly, Pugwaddly and Pugnuts. They had perched on the roof of the little house when the pugs were born, and kept a close watch on all of their comings and goings. Even though the seagulls were noisy and gossipy, they never meant any harm by it. They really liked being around people, particularly the hard working fishermen of Surry Village and the islands, who would throw delicious food for them to enjoy as they trailed their fishing lines in the water.

As the seagull flock gathered, out over Newberry Neck, the eagle was gaining distance. The seagulls knew if they didn't do something quickly, Pugnuts would be lost.

Heathcliff, the largest of the seagulls, put on an extra burst of speed and flew directly in front of the eagle. Unable to avoid the sudden appearance of the smaller bird, the eagle flew right into him.

Smack! Feathers flew, and the angry eagle whipped his sharp beak around and lacerated Heathcliff's leg. The eagle gave a high pitched cry and wheeled away, Pugnuts dangling limply from his talons.

PFFT! Another seagull hit the eagle from above, buffeting the enormous black wings. It was Eggbert! Heathcliff came back from below, feathers falling from his injured leg, and he managed to peck the eagle's talon hard enough to cause the big claw to twitch.

The eagle, annoyed by Heathcliff's pecking, decided that he had enough - seagulls had never dared to attack an eagle, and he was not about to allow that lack of respect! The two seagulls' attack had slowed him down and the rest of the flock of seagulls was fast approaching.

Sensing that he might have made a mistake in picking up the pug, the eagle decided to lighten his load to fly away faster - not that he was afraid of the seagulls, mind you, but this rabble was an affront to his dignity. Turning toward Morgan Bay and Blue Hill, the Eagle opened his talon and let go of Pugnuts, almost a mile above the ground!

”Ha!” he thought, “Save your pug puppy now if you want him! Maybe my family feels more like seagull tonight!”

The pug fell, tumbling head over heels, faster and faster toward the narrow spit of land. Pugnuts was terrified! He could see the blue water of Patten Bay and Morgan Bay rushing up on either side of the land, and the beautiful mountains of Acadia National Park seemed so close he could touch them.

Pugnuts cried out in pain. The cold wind was burning his big brown eyes.

”Help!” Pugnuts cried, his stomach feeling weightless as he fell. “Help, Help!!”

The cold wind flapped his ears as Pugnuts continued to fall. “Hellllp!”

The seagulls gathered in a large flock behind the Eagle to keep him from seeing where the pug was falling while some of the younger ones tried to save the little pug puppy.

Feathers Meriweather, a one year old brown and white seagull, flew up from below and matched speed with Pugnuts' fall.

”Hallo, Pugnuts!” Feathers shouted. “What are you doing out here? Don't you know pugs can't fly?”

Pugnuts was terrified, and couldn't say anything, and even if he could, he wouldn't know what to say to a seagull. He didn't know where he was, didn't know why this seagull knew his name, and was scared, cold and falling out of the sky.

Then all of a sudden Pugnuts was flying again! Feathers had swooped below him and caught him on his back!

The flock of seagulls still surrounded the eagle as he retreated, and more were coming to help.

Down on the ground, Moira O'Neill had just come out of her house by the Carrying Place beach and saw the huge cloud of seagulls.

”I wonder what's going on? What's gotten into those seagulls?” She wondered, shading her eyes as she looked up from the beach.

Linda Greenlaw was out on her boat in the cove wondering the same thing. People walking on the beach looked at the spectacle- it was like nothing anyone had ever seen - hundreds of seagulls swooping and crying, and in the distance, an eagle was flying away from them!

Feathers was having trouble keeping Pugnuts balanced on his back as he flew. Pugnuts had never ridden a bird before, and as he scrambled to balance on the bird's back, both of them knew it was a losing proposition. It was only a matter of seconds before Pugnuts would fall off.

Feathers called out to another fledgling flying next to him. “Get the first class into a ladder formation!”

(The ladder formation, while well known to seagulls, is a cipher to everyone else- they position themselves in formation, one below the other in order to spot fish. Feathers and his first cohort of fledglings had just learned the formation and had been practicing it out over Contention Cove that morning.)

As Feather's friend Flappy moved into position Pugnuts lost his balance and tumbled out into the air.

”HEELLP!” Pugnuts cried, “I'm falling again” “Ooof”, Pugnuts woofed out as he landed on Flappy's back.

”Ooof, Ooof, Ooof” he woofed as he fell off Flappy's back onto Screechy's back, and on down the ladder of fledgling seagulls now flying in formation.

”Ooof, Ooof, woof, woof,” gasped Pugnuts, as he had the air knocked out of his lungs on the way down.

Their feathers popped out of their pinions as the young seagulls bounced Pugnuts toward a soft landing. There was a big cloud of them trailing behind the group as they flew, but the brave young seagulls didn’t complain a bit.

Feathers Meriweather circled down to the bottom of the ladder just as Pugnuts came tumbling down and caught him as they approached the treetops.

Just when they thought Pugnuts was safe, the eagle re-appeared!

He had changed his mind and decided he wanted to have a taste of pug after all, and to teach these seagulls a lesson. He swooped toward Feathers and Pugnuts as they headed toward a birch tree leaning over the swamp. Pugnuts gave a little yip as Feathers bounced him off his back onto the tip of the tree. The slender birch bent under the weight, and with a swish of branches, almost as if the birch tree knew what it was doing, it deposited the pug on a mossy tussock, amongst some swamp cabbage. The leaves quickly covered up the little pug who had fallen into a swoon.

Pugnuts had disappeared!

Uninjured but exhausted from the ordeal, Pugnuts lay under the swamp cabbage - not a trace of the pug was to be seen from the air or on the ground.

Heathcliff, spots of blood trailing back onto his formerly pristine white feathers, turned with the rest of the seagulls to head back to Surry village. Other seagulls headed to Ellsworth, Bar Harbor, Blue Hill and even Swan's Island to tell the tale of the heroism of Heathcliff, Eggbert, Feathers Meriweather, Flappy, Screechy and all the other seagulls who had bravely fought the eagle to save Pugnuts. Little did they know that their actions that day would eventually become legend, with book deals and even movie rights for the major players, but that story is for another book and another time.

Back at the house, Pugnella was inconsolable. Several neighbors had gathered to see what was going on. As they were trying to figure out what to do next, Dale Sprinkle pointed up in to the air. “Look,” he shouted, “The seagulls!”

A huge flock of seagulls was flying in a wedge formation to the boatyard next to the Pugnella and Pugnacious’s house. As the seagulls approached, several seasoned old souls warily opened up umbrellas as a precaution. In a precise formation that seemed almost military, the seagulls swooped over the reach and landed on the rocks opposite the little pug's house and all over the field. Heathcliff waited until they were settled and then alighted on the path leading up to the Findlay family's little cottage.

”Pugnuts is alive!” he cawed, and even though the villagers couldn't understand what he was saying, they thought it must have been good news, since Pugnella and Pugnacious jumped up and ran over to him.

”We fought a big battle with the eagle and made him let go of Pugnuts,” Heathcliff continued, “and we managed to get him safely to ground out beyond the Carrying Place on Newbury Neck. The eagle was angry but flew away when he couldn't find Pugnuts, but we need to organize a ground search party as soon as possible before he comes back!”

It was only 10:00 in the morning so there was plenty of time to send out a search party.

”I'll get my car”, said one villager

”I'll gather the dogs” said Shadow, a noble looking black Labrador who had rushed over. “We'll find Pugnuts in no time, Pugnella!”

By 10:30 the search party was organized. The children at the Surry Elementary School were busy making “Lost” posters just in case they didn't find Pugnuts, and a long caravan of cars began making its way out Newberry Neck. They all parked at the Carrying Place beach and followed the seagulls on foot as they flew to where they had deposited Pugnuts.

”Here it is, Here it is,” cawed Feathers Meriweather, “Just look under the swamp cabbage!”

Nash approached, walking through the water and algae to the mossy tussock. He pushed aside the lush green leaves of the swamp cabbage, and looked. He sniffed at where the moss was crushed and could even see the outline of a little pug's body where it had lain, but Pugnuts wasn't there.

Then Feather’s gasped. Laying on the ground next to the tussock was a giant black and white feather!

The little pug had vanished!​

(To be continued)

It was a rainy cold day just a week before Christmas. The pugs were inside warming themselves by the wood stove after running around outside in the rain. Pugnella was in her workshop hammering on something, and there was a wonderful smell of a mincemeat pie cooking that permeated the house.

Pugnacious was sitting in his easy chair, smoking his pipe. He had just finished looking through the Holiday edition of the Ellsworth American. He rustled and rumpled the papers as he folded it back and put all the sections together, and was just reaching for the Weekly Packet when Pugnuts said, “Tell us a story, Papa!”

Pugnacious always had lots of stories to tell, and the pug puppies were bored. Somehow the smell of wool mittens (there were 12 of them for the three pups) warming by the wood stove always acted as a soporific. The puppies were drowsy and all curled up together at their father’s feet.

“That sounds like a good idea, Pugnuts,” said Nash, “And I’ve got the perfect story for a day like today.” He leaned closer to the pugs. “Have you ever heard the story about the Pug who saved Christmas?”

Pugwiggly, Pugwaddly, and Pugnuts looked back with wide eyed wonderment, because they had just learned about Christmas and Santa Claus, and it seemed strange that Christmas would need saving, since Santa Claus had such magical powers!

“No,” they chorused, “What happened?”

“Well,” said Pugnacious, “As you know, Santa has magical powers that help him deliver presents to all the boys and girls in the world in a single night. Have you wondered how he does it - how Santa flies to all the houses in a single night?”

“He does it,” continued Pugnacious, “because when he flies the reindeer time slows down for him, so Santa has time to get to all the houses. In fact it slows down so much that Christmas night lasts for two years as far as Santa is concerned!”

The pugs looked very puzzled.

Nash looked at them and scratched his head. “I suppose I’m not very good at explaining things either, but when you go to school you’ll learn all about this. A great professor named Stephen Hawking has some theories on how this works, because Santa is moving faster than the speed of light, and that does funny things to how time passes. But all we know is that Santa manages to deliver all his presents every year in a single night.”

“And because that night seems to last for years, Santa gets very, very hungry! That’s why we always leave him cookies and a little glass of milk to enjoy when he comes to visit and why he eats some from every plate in every house he visits!”

“Getting to the first house takes months as far as Santa is concerned as he travels from the North Pole. That means a long time for Santa before his first plate of cookies. What do you suppose Santa eats to keep his strength up as he journeys to that first house?”

The pugs looked solemnly back at their father.

“I don’t know” said Pugwaddly, looking worried. “you mean he has no food for months?”

“No,” said their father. “I didn’t say he had no food for months, and remember, this all happens in a single night - it’s just Santa who thinks it takes months.”

“Then he must be hundreds and hundreds of years old,” said Pugwiggly, who was the best at doing math.

“Thousands and thousands of years old,” their father said. “That’s why his beard and hair are snow white.”

Pugnacious continued, “Well what he eats is a special kind of gingerbread. A single piece is so nutritious it keeps Santa fed for a whole week, so he takes it with him to feed him on the first part of his journey until he gets to the first house with the first plate of cookies and milk.”

This is the story of how one time he almost didn’t get his gingerbread in time for Christmas:

One Christmas eve Santa was busy loading his sleigh with toys. Santa and the elves had been loading toys all night. The sleigh was riding low on its runners from the weight, but otherwise it seemed like a routine Christmas Eve.

Santa was dressed in his green velvet working suit and looked very fit and hearty as he checked the harnesses for the reindeer. None of the reindeer were hitched up to the sleigh yet, because they had two hours before leaving. It wasn’t hard to know where they were, though, because there was a lot of jingling of sleigh bells coming from the barn and the exercise paddock beyond. Every now and then the sky would light up as one of the reindeer would snort flying dust out of his nostrils, and more flashes as they kicked more flying dust up with their hooves. The Aurora Borealis that makes the flying dust was especially bright this year and made the flying dust powerful!

Santa loved this part of his journey as he anticipated making all the boys and girls happy with their presents. There was the long journey ahead of course, and while it seemed to take years for Santa, it would all be done in a single night. Santa liked not having to rush. “Old Einstein was almost right,” the elf chuckled, “Time does slow down when you’re moving fast, - it’s just that it stays just the same for the folks back home. But I like it better when it’s just called magic.”

“Ho, Ho, Ho,” Santa said softly to himself thinking of the fun he has each year, and how confusing it must be to people trying to figure out how he does it.

Meanwhile, back in Santa’s big house, Mrs. Claus was making Santa’s special gingerbread. This was one of the most important jobs at the North Pole, and Mrs. Claus didn’t trust it to anyone else. She’d perfected this recipe over the centuries. Flour, of course, and eggs, and ginger and reindeer milk. No baking soda for this gingerbread, though. Mrs. Claus used only the lightest, brightest flying dust collected from the giant mirror basket on the top of the house for leavening. And for energy, she used a special windmill to collect cosmic rays from the exact center of magnetic north. This was very difficult as the position of magnetic North changed every year, so she had to send the elves out to locate where to put the windmill to collect and process the cosmic rays. They got caught up on the sails of the windmill, and were collected in a special glass barrel as cosmic candy where they waited to be mixed into the gingerbread every year. The light from the barrel was every color of the rainbow and was so brilliant that Mrs. Claus kept it in a special cupboard until it was ready to be mixed into the gingerbread.

On this particular night Mrs. Claus was having some trouble with her gingerbread. First the flour was too coarse and she had to sift it again, then the eggs were too small and she had to send the elves out to get more eggs. They were all out of Ostrich and Christmas Goose eggs, but she was lucky that someone had brought her Penguin eggs all the way from the South Pole. In fact, in the past when she’d used Penguin eggs, Santa had really enjoyed her gingerbread, so she was glad she could use them again.

She was whipping the batter with her special whisk and humming Oh Tannenbaum happily under her breath as she checked the clock and saw that she was just going to make her deadline without a minute to spare. As she whirled around the kitchen her apron strings fluttered like streamers caught in a hurricane.

A very handsome pug dog named Spunk was sitting out of the way next to the fireplace. Spunk was Mrs. Claus’ kitchen dog and was responsible for keeping the mice away from the food while she cooked. Spunk was a handsome jet black dog with beautiful brown eyes - the only white was on the tip of his curly tail. Spunk always sat next to the fireplace because it offered the best view of the entire kitchen. He had been Mrs. Claus’s kitchen dog for so long that he knew all of the recipes by heart and could probably have cooked everything as well as Mrs. Claus except perhaps for her special gingerbread recipe.

Mrs. Claus had a very special oven in the stone fireplace that Santa Claus had built centuries before. The oven had a big iron door adorned with a Christmas Tree design that had some very old magic in it - as the oven heated, the ornaments on the Christmas tree would change from dull grey iron to bright colors - blue for warm, green for medium, red for hot, and bright red for very hot. There were even some colors for in-between temperatures. It was very clever blacksmithing to create such a magical oven door, and it was also fun to look at.

Right now Spunk was eyeing the oven and all was on schedule. The green indicated that the oven was almost ready. Mrs. Claus was bustling around the kitchen and was at a critical point - adding the flying dust and cosmic candy to the batter. As she tipped the flying dust into the cosmic candy her hand slipped. The mixing jar fell on the floor, spilling some of the precious dust onto the tiles. She looked up to check the clock - it was late but she still had just enough time to finish! The batter glowed and glittered with power as she turned it into the giant gingerbread pan.

Spunk jumped out of the way as Mrs. Claus opened up the oven door and put the pan in. She was muttering to herself that she was sure that the missing cosmic candy and flying dust wouldn’t affect the gingerbread, but she had a worried expression on her face as she turned around to clean up the mess the jar had made when it fell on the floor.

“Spunk,” said Mrs. Claus, “You need to stay away from this - it is pure cosmic candy and flying dust and would be very dangerous for you to touch.”

Spunk waited for her to turn around to adjust the heat on the oven down for baking, but Mrs. Claus was sweeping up the glass and flying dust into the dustbin. She gave one glance to the oven and saw that the tree’s ornaments just turned red, ready for baking She set her favorite timer for 30 minutes and turned to leave. Spunk barked and ran over to her to tell her that the oven needed to be turned down, but she closed the door before he got to her.

Spunk was alone in the kitchen and the gingerbread was going to burn! If the gingerbread burned then Santa wouldn’t have anything to eat until he got to the first house with cookies and milk, and he’d be hungry for months! Maybe even too weak to slide down the chimney! Mrs. Claus had already used up all of her year’s collection of cosmic candy and flying dust so she couldn’t make another batch even if there was enough time. This was a terrible crisis!

Spunk ran round and round the kitchen - he glanced at the oven - the ornaments blinked red and were starting to glow brighter. If they turned to purple all the gingerbread would be ruined. If they turned white, the whole kitchen would explode! Spunk had heard the elf repairing the oven say that when the oven got to white it was hotter than the sun in July!

The controls for the oven were way up high on the fireplace chimney, far to high a reach for Spunk.

The ornaments were starting to glow bright red and move to orange!

Spunk raced over to the worktable and a tiny flash of light caught his eye. It was the cosmic candy and flying dust that Mrs. Claus had spilled. Suddenly Spunk knew what he had to do. He ran over to the spot and licked the tile. Mrs Claus had said it was dangerous, but it was the only way to save the gingerbread and to save Christmas. Even though it was only a few specks, Spunk hoped it would be enough to somehow help.

Suddenly Spunk sat back on the floor and shot across the floor, trailing sparks and rainbows as he slid! He hit the wall next to the fireplace and stars shot across his vision. Suddenly he was flying! He looked at the clock on the wall - the pendulum was stopped - the fire on the logs was at a standstill, and even the dust motes in the air were motionless! He was in the Santa Claus time flow! Now he had all the time in the world, and he could fly!

Spunk wasn’t sure how long his new powers would last, so he flew up to the oven and turned down the controls to their proper settings. The colors on the indicators went back from almost orange to a brownish red, just right for cooking gingerbread. The gingerbread was saved and Santa would have enough food to last until the first plate of cookies! Christmas was saved!

Spunk looked around the kitchen as he floated back to the floor, wondering how long the effect of the flying dust would last. The clock was hardly moving. It was only a little flying dust and cosmic candy, but Spunk was a lot smaller than Santa Claus. The door was closed and all of Spunk’s food was in the pantry, and there was nothing to eat in the kitchen - this was only where the baking was done and Mrs. Claus was all out of ingredients. Spunk settled down feeling hungry.

“Flying sure takes a lot of energy”, Spunk thought.

Spunk settled down for a nap, hoping that when he woke time would be sped up again. When he woke, the clock’s hand only had moved two seconds.

“I sure am hungry,” Spunk said to himself as he looked around the kitchen for something to eat. He looked in the trash can and found the broken bits of glass and some more of the flying dust. “I’m not going to eat any more of that!” he thought

He looked under the table, but the elves were very meticulous and had cleaned the floor to a sparkle. There was nothing to eat!

He looked in the cupboards and found nothing.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, and slowly floated up to the highest cupboards in the kitchen, opening one after another.

Nothing to eat, not even a crumb.

Spunk told himself that he just would need to be patient and either the cosmic candy would wear off or the 30 minutes would pass. Either way eventually Mrs. Claus would come back and all would be well.

“I have to be patient,” said Spunk to himself as the hours went into days.

After the first week, Spunk noticed that he was getting thinner - he was hungry, but since he’d always been a little chubby, he didn’t mind losing a little weight.

After the second week, Spunk was hungry and thirsty, but he noticed that the clock hands had started to move more normally.

The third week passed and Spunk was so weak that he had a hard time getting up to check the clock to see if it had moved. Now it was showing twenty minutes had passed. Only ten minutes to go in normal time before the gingerbread was cooked and Mrs. Claus came back to the kitchen!

When the kitchen clock finally showed 30 minutes had passed, Spunk didn’t know it because he was too weak to get up from his basket by the fireplace. From his perspective, 2 months had passed since he’d eaten the flying dust and cosmic candy and saved the gingerbread. He was skin and bones and his mouth was parched.

Mrs. Claus rushed into the kitchen. “Oh my goodness, I forgot to turn down the temperature!” she exclaimed as she rushed across the kitchen to the oven. She expected to see Santa’s gingerbread ruined, which she knew would mean that Christmas would have to be cancelled. “Oh dear, what a FUBAR Christmas,” she thought in a panic as she ran over to the oven, apron strings flying.

Much to her great surprise, everything was fine - the gingerbread was perfect, the multicolored steam rising with sparkles and stars as she removed the pan from the oven. She scratched her head with one of her knitting needles as she tried to figure out how the gingerbread was saved.

As she set the pan on the table she heard a faint cough by the fireplace. Over in the basket there was a tiny black form, not much bigger than a Christmas cupcake.

“Spunk, is that you?” called Mrs. Claus in wonderment. “What happened?”

Spunk weakly wagged his tail and stuck his tongue out. He tried to get up but was too weak.

“I can’t imagine what has happened to you! When I left the kitchen 20 minutes ago you were happy, healthy and chubby. Now you’re thin as a wraith!”

Mrs. Claus called into the elf’s workshop - “Send Sparky to the kitchen! Something’s wrong with Spunk and we need his help! Hurry!”

Sparky came running.

“What is it Mrs. Claus?”

“Look at Spunk - 20 minutes ago he was fine, but I just came into the kitchen and he’s thin as whiff of smoke! Can you find out what’s wrong?

Sparky leaned down to look at Spunk. He sniffed Spunk and felt his hind toe. Then he jingled his elf had bell to see if Spunk could hear it.

Sparky straightened up and said, “He’s suffering from cosmic candy fever. Have you fed him any?”

Mrs. Claus said “No, and all the kitchen help knows that they’re to stay away from it! Unless…”

Mrs. Claus looked at the spot where she’d spilled the jar of cosmic candy.

Then she looked at the oven.

She looked at Spunk.

Suddenly she knew.

Spunk! You saved the day! I don’t know how you did it, but I know you must have changed the oven controls. Did you fly?

Spunk weakly wagged his tail.

Mrs. Claus wiped a tear from her eye. “Sparky, you must do everything you can to make Spunk well again! He saved Santa’s gingerbread!”

At this point Pugnacious stopped and looked at his pups, all wide-eyed at his feet.

“Did Spunk live?” squeaked Pugnuts.

“Oh yes, Sparky saved him and soon Spunk was up and running all over the place,” said Pugnacious. In fact, once he was better, Mrs. Claus made him her first assistant in the kitchen.

Now you know why Santa has gingerbread to get started on Christmas Eve, but you also know why he needs your cookies and milk as he goes from house to house. Carrying toys and lugging them down the chimney is hard work!

The puppies squealed with delight and ran into the kitchen to decide what kind of cookies they would make for Santa. Pugnacious grunted with satisfaction that the puppies were entertained for a while, re-lit his pipe and settled back in his chair to enjoy the latest Weekly Packet newspaper from Blue Hill.

The log settled in the fire, sparks flew, and a few snowflakes started to drift against the window of the cozy little Pug’s house as they settled in to wait for a visit from Santa.

Merry Christmas from your friends at Pugnuts Ice Cream Shop!

​