Yes. I am a dog. A pug. And I can talk. I suggest that you deal with that immediately so we can move on because I have a story to tell.
Ten seconds should be enough time to process that information. I’ll use the time to reply to Anthony Bourdain’s text. He’s been trying to set up an interview with me since he arrived in Paris three days ago. He wants me to take him on a tour of the underbelly of Paris for his new show. I’ve been telling him I don’t do that kind of thing anymore, but he’s persistent.
Okay, time’s up.
My name is Plum, shortened from Plumley, shortened from Plumleigh, which is of Anglo-Saxon origin. I’m fawn-colored, with a muscular cobby chest, rose petal ears, a face with an incredible black mask, extra long tongue, double curl tail and I weigh a trim 18 pounds.
Besides being able to talk, I can read, write, reason, make decisions and think.
And, of course, eat.
Most importantly, I can taste. Savor is an even better word. Pugs tend not to savor or even chew food. They just wolf it down like a pig, whatever it is, and come back for more.I, on the other hand, have a heightened sense of smell, even for dogs, and miraculous taste buds. But I’m best known as a restaurant critic and food writer.
Enough for now. I must meet friends for an afternoon aperitif.