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For sixteen and a half years he was my constant companion. He slept at my feet, went to work with me, went everywhere with me, but early in July, old age finally caught up with Mr. Magoo, the pug.
Although I’m sad as I write this column, I want to concentrate on the happiness he spread. Throughout his life Mr. Magoo was a happy fellow, always cheerful, always ready for a good time, and I cherish many memories.
A memory: the summer he slipped off a rock and into Devil Track Lake realizing he could swim. He spent the rest of the summer dog-paddling under and around the dock, his round pug head bouncing in the water. The following summer, he forgot that he’d ever set a paw in the lake.
Another memory: the money-eating episode. I’d left Magoo sitting in my vehicle alone with an envelope filled with $200.00 worth of crisp, clean 20-dollar bills. When I returned, I found a torn bank envelope, five half eaten 20-dollar bills and a guilty looking pug.
Fortunately, the bank replaced the bills.
Other Magoo “food stories” exist. There was the chicken drummy incident as well as the roasted peanut escapade.
Like most small dogs, he saw himself as a big dog, to be exact as our 80-pound Lab, Goldie. Although she was far from being a puppy, she played with him, rough and tumble antics, but he held up his 26 pounds.
One activity that Mr. Magoo fought tooth and nail, (literally) was nail cutting time. He hated it and was totally impossible and unreasonable. Dick and I discovered how strong pugs are when we tried to hold him down to cut his nails. (Yes, nail grinders exist, but he would have none of that.)
We enlisted my son for help and the three of us finally managed.
Through all his crazy antics he remained happy. From his puppy stage to his old age, he was cheerful. Always ready for a treat. Always ready to chase a tennis ball or circle the back yard with his tail tucked.
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