New Year's Eve: Katy Perry performs

New Year's Eve: The bones come out

Praise Allah! Mother has just broken out a pair of new rawhide bones. 2009 is shaping up to be something truly special.

New Year's Eve: Struggling to stay awake

I am back, my flock. I ... just a moment ... WENDELL! Wake up! It's OK; you can open your eyes now -- Carrot Top is finished. My flock, it seems that my little brother was not impressed by the world's foremost prop comic. I must do something to liven up the party once again. It may be time to break out the Trivial Pursuit, and, God willing, some Beggin' Strips.

New Year's Eve: East Coast celebrates

We have just witnessed the New Year's celebration in New York on TV, along with an unsettling public display of affection by the late Dick Clark. Here in the central time zone, our celebration is only an hour away!

New Year's Eve: Change in plans

Please give a big hand to T.I. -- wasn't he wonderful? And remember: If you donate to the ministry, then we really can have whatever we like.

Moving along, I have some bad news to report. The Jonas Brothers had been scheduled to perform next, but they were apparently devoured by a group of overzealous prepubescent girls while on their way to the compound. All that remains of the trio is a fingerless glove and an ascot. This is tragic, truly tragic, my flock. But we cannot let this spoil our party! The Brothers Jonas would have wanted us to continue. So without further ado, please welcome the one and only Carrot Top and his bag of wacky props.

New Year's Eve: Ringing in 2009

Good evening, my flock. I am emceeing the ministry's New Year's Eve festivities, so I thought I would experiment with some live blogging from the event. It is not quite as ground-breaking as my live blogging from a garage sale, but it should be fun, God willing. We have a big crowd here at the ayatollah compound. Nearly dozens of revelers are drinking non-alcoholic beverages as they await the dawn of a new year. At the stroke of midnight, a tennis ball will drop, and Wendell will no doubt carry it around the house obsessively and attempt to bury it beneath the sofa cushions until mother takes it away. But that is still over an hour away. First, it is time for some live entertainment! Those of you reading along on the blog will have to use your imaginations, since you're not here in my living room to witness the festivities.

And now, I am pleased to present our first entertainer! Performing an edited, ministry-appropriate version of his hit song "Whatever You Like," here is T.I.!

Pug puppy cam

In honor of the impending birth of a new year, I present to you a new pug puppy cam:


Free video chat by Ustream

Happy holidays

Mugsy issues fatwa

I can stay silent no longer, my flock. Too many times now, I have turned on my television or radio and been astounded, nay, horrified by the awful advertising campaigns that now plague the airwaves. They have left me no choice but to issue a fatwa! But first, let me explain the problem now facing our society.

Exhibit A: Dr Pepper has been claiming for several months now that its beverage features 23 distinct flavors. This is absurd, my flock! Absurd!! Dr Pepper has one distinct flavor: It tastes like Dr Pepper! Even the youngest puppy could tell you that. Dr Pepper may have 23 ingredients, but not 23 flavors. Unless the baker was particularly inept, one does not bite into a cookie and say, "Oh, I taste the egg, and the flour, and the butter ..." No, once those ingredients are combined, the finished product tastes like a cookie!!! Dr Pepper does a disservice to all God-fearing humans and canines with this ridiculous slogan.

Exhibit B: Burger King recently unveiled an ad campaign in which it apparently sends camera crews to remote areas around the globe to conduct a taste test with villagers who have never sampled a hamburger. First of all, it seems highly improbable that Western consumers would care which burger these Third World denizens prefer. For all we know, these people may regularly eat dung beetles and wash them down with a blood-and-milk mixture. Different cultures have different tastes. Second, Burger King does not even reveal the results of these allegedly unbiased taste tests in its ads. Instead, the company asks TV viewers to visit its "Whopper Virgins" Web site to see what happens. Ignoring the obvious point that Burger King wouldn't promote a site in which the Big Mac was the overwhelming favorite, are we to believe that people are actually racing to their computers to visit whoppervirgins.com? I provided a link in the interest of completeness, but even I am not about to sit through some burger propaganda film. I have too much propaganda of my own to work on.

Exhibit C: In its radio ads, McDonald's has taken to labeling its chicken customers "Nug Nuts." This sounds quite a bit like "Lug Nuts," or "Numb Nuts" -- neither of which I would much like to be called. Do the Chicken McNugget consumers not suffer enough simply by dining at McDonald's? Must we really call them such a pejorative-sounding name? Has Ronald McDonald no decency?!?

I could go on and on, but I believe this gives you an idea of the severity of the problem. So I hereby issue a fatwa! Starting right now, I declare a moratorium on all terrible advertising campaigns. Those who dare to violate this binding religious decree will face immediate excommunication from Pug Life Ministries and be forced to wear a "Nug Nut" name tag for the rest of their lives.

A visit with Rabbi Jake

I have returned to my Texas compound after a sojourn in Oklahoma. While there, I met with the esteemed Rabbi Jake to discuss ways to raise money for the ministry in this down economy. He suggested that I remind last-minute holiday shoppers about the ministry's online gift shop, which can be found here. Our products are made of only the finest materials and are designed to hold up well in any locale, including shantytowns and soup kitchen lines. So spend with confidence, my flock.

While I met with Rabbi Jake in Norman -- home of new Heisman Trophy winner Sam Bradford, peace be upon him -- my parents drove to Tulsa to attend the birthday party of a 1-year-old. This was their second baby birthday party in less than a month, so clearly their social lives are on the upswing. But once again, they chose not to take Wendell and me along, thus depriving us of an opportunity to take advantage of the baby's messy cake-eating habits.

Mugsy seeks to avoid absurd rumors

I finally got around to seeing the summer blockbuster "The Dark Knight," catching the film at the local dollar theater. This seemed like a prudent way to conserve ministry funds. I had considered posting a review of the film, but I feared it might revive those silly rumors about me having a crime-fighting alter ego. But I did notice that in an odd coincidence, the brave Batpug has recently seen the movie as well, so maybe he'll have something to say about it.

Half-baked plot fails

Greetings, my flock. I have been away from my blog for several days, so I missed the opportunity to update you on a recent attack on ministry assets. Let me now tell you the sordid tale.


It was the day before Thanksgiving. Mother was driving near Dealey Plaza in downtown Dallas, returning to her suburban compound after a long day at work. As she turned to make her way toward the highway, an object slammed onto the windshield of her Toyota. It was a piece of pumpkin pie. Mother slammed on her brakes and looked all around, but no assailant was visible. Shaken, she returned home, leaving the evidence in place until she reached our driveway. I quickly dispatched a forensics team from the Armed Revolutionary Forces (ARF) to conduct ballistics tests on the pie slice. Although the investigation is ongoing, some of ARF's top experts believe that there may have actually been a second pie thrower, hiding in a grassy knoll near the intersection. But we must wait for all the data to come in to make a final conclusion. God willing, we will bring the pie-wielding conspirator -- or conspirators, as the case may be -- to justice. It has been said that revenge is a dish that is best served cold, and this infidel will surely get his just desserts.

As horrific as this pie attack surely sounds to you, my flock, you must know that I have not yet told you the worst part. For after the forensics testing was completed, and after the pie sat out all night on the windshield, mother removed the evidence and simply tossed it in the garbage can. Without offering me or Wendell a single bite.

Turkey time

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. May the humans be extra-careless with their turkey at the dinner table today. And may Allah bless the lowly Aggies, just this once, so that they might smite the infidel Longhorns.

Amen.

Hang 'em high

Behold the sight of Beaver, my flock. He has been identified as the infidel in our midst, and he is suffering the fate reserved for the ministry's worst enemies: the banana hook. Beaver has been hanging from his paddle-like tail since yesterday afternoon. Let the sight of his chipped tooth and his cotton-gaping severed paws serve as a warning to other chew toys who would think to conspire against the ministry! At this very moment, Wendell is "interrogating" the infidel to gain additional intelligence. If Beaver had accomplices, they will not escape justice.

You may think that this punishment is barbaric, my flock, but do not be swayed by the mainstream media or the United Nations' recent resolution to ban banana hooks. Instead, keep in mind that Beaver was engaged in a truly heinous plot. Was he trying to build a radioactive dirty bomb, or overthrow the ministry as the infidel Blue Bull did nearly two years ago? No, but Beaver's actions were no less ghastly. He sought to dehydrate Wendell and me by damming up our water bowls.

Justice is served

Last week, I wrote of a looming threat facing the ministry. I immediately went to work to sniff out the infidel in our midst, leaving no stone unturned. Security was heightened throughout the compound, and Wendell and I stepped up our patrols along the fence line. Over the weekend, I traveled to Oklahoma to meet with the schnauzer Rabbi Jake, peace be upon him. Jake's wise counsel is always valued, and we put in place a plan to flush out this infidel. At this very moment, my security forces are closing in. An arrest is imminent, my flock. The infidel cannot hide; he cannot escape. He can only know the righteous justice of Pug Life Ministries! More details to come ...

Puppy watch

In my line of work, it is imperative to reach out to the young. The puppies of today, after all, are the imams of tomorrow. So I have taken great interest in this Web site.

My life with pack rats

In recent days, Wendell and I have been helping father clean out the weight room, which has doubled as a large closet and junk repository. The room's large closet was packed to the ceiling with boxes, and we have been sniffing through them to try to downsize our collection. Many of the boxes we found have not been touched since the day we moved into our compound in early 2003, which should be an indication that these items are not vital to the continuing operation of the household. But we did not want to simply throw them out without first going through them. Among our finds the last two days:

• A large stack of 8-year-old copies of the Detroit Free Press.
• Not one but two Snoopy Sno-Cone Machines. For those who aren't aware of this magical device, the Snoopy model is the standard for hand-cranked ice crushing.
• A troll doll.
• A grotesquely curled-up refrigerator magnet of Michelangelo's David.
• An ancient device called a "dot-matrix" printer.
• A litter box from an ill-conceived experiment conducted when I was a puppy in a small apartment.
• A baby gate, from another puppy experiment.
• A baseball bat autographed by Hall of Famer Al Kaline.
• A small kit labeled "The Art of Belly Dancing."
• A framed Presidential Academic Fitness Award signed by the first President Bush.
• A piece of the Berlin Wall.
• Most exciting of all, a package of vintage rawhide chew sticks, circa 2002.

Review: Cesar Millan's new DVD set

As a leading authority in the canine community, I was recently offered a chance to review the new Cesar Millan DVD set Mastering Leadership. I have some concerns about such programs, and in fact, I am developing my own TV pilot in which I teach dogs techniques to better control their humans. But mother was eager to view the DVDs, so I accepted the set on her behalf. After all, if the techniques could bring a little discipline to my ankle-biting little brother, it couldn't be all bad. Here is mother's review of the set.

I often watch Dog Whisperer on the National Geographic Channel, but I hadn't really tried any of his techniques. (To be honest, I just thought it was funny to watch how Mugsy and Wendell would respond to some of the dogs on TV.) But little Wendell is one of those dogs who would gladly pull you through a walk, choking and wheezing all the way. So I turned to Cesar Millan's three-DVD set, Mastering Leadership, for some advice. The first DVD is just Cesar talking to folks about keys to keeping your dogs happy and healthy. If you've ever seen the show, the ideas in this part will all be pretty familiar — give your dog exercise, then discipline, then affection; calm, assertive energy makes you a pack leader; your dog is not a human. The second DVD was what proved really helpful for me (and Wendell). I watched the segment that featured Dixie, a Jack Russell terrier who yipped and pulled her way through every walk. I was happy to note that Dixie was even worse at walking on a leash than Wendell. After watching, I used Cesar's advice on walking your dog — have calm, assertive energy; don't let the dog walk in front of you; and correct bad behavior the moment it starts. The results were really good — by the end of the walk, Wendell was happily trotting behind me, and I only had to do an occasional correction. We've got a lot of work to do on having Wendell stay calm when we pass other dogs and people, but that's something Cesar covers in the DVD, too. I'm looking forward to trying those techniques, as well.

All smiles at the dog park

The dog park was swarming with canine activity. Wendell and I made the rounds and soon found ourselves snout to snout with a fellow pug (right) and her human caretaker. Though we'd never met the woman before, she seemed happy to see us and bent down to pat our silky heads. To paraphrase the great philosopher Will Rogers, "A stranger is just a follower I haven't indoctrinated."

Suspicious minds

I suspect that an infidel is in our midst, my flock. The tell-tale signs are all there. I cannot give too much away, because I am setting a trap for the infidel. But Wendell is suspicious, too. I am so proud of him -- his sense of paranoia is developing quite nicely, along with his beard.

More details to come ...

A pug's got to dream

I have a dream. I dream of a future in which we can move beyond the outdated breakfast/dinner paradigm. I dream of a world in which four meals a day is considered acceptable, in which four meals a day, in fact, is just the beginning. Who's to say that five meals are too many? Or six? I dream of a world of limitless possibilities, my flock. A world where a pug can eat dinner and then, five minutes later, go for an encore. Let us not just celebrate the successes of our daily lives, my flock, let us repeat them! I dream of a mother and father who do not coordinate their feedings, who do not ask one another, "Did you feed the pugs tonight?" I dream of parents who, instead, simply say, "The pugs look hungry." And then feed their furry children without a second thought. This, my flock, is the future we must all strive for. This is the dream yet unrealized, the promise yet unfulfilled. Yet this is no pipe dream. This dream is our destiny. And this, my flock, is why I am now going to go sit beside my food bowl once again.

Election Day surprise

WASHINGTON (AP) -- There was no "October surprise" to shake up the presidential race, but a possible bombshell has landed on Election Day.

U.S. counterterrierism officials said early Tuesday that they are investigating a possible link between enigmatic canine cleric Ayatollah Mugsy and the radical Garden Gnome Liberation Front. The organization, based in France, claims members in numerous countries and advocates an end to "oppressive gardening practices." Rumors of a link between the gnome group and Ayatollah Mugsy gained momentum after the spiritual guide for Pug Life Ministries was spotted wearing a gnome costume to a Pug-O-Ween celebration in Arlington, Texas, possibly in a show of solidarity with his fellow radicals.

"This revelation could have a significant impact on the presidential race," said John Fellows, a professor of political science at Georgetown University. "But it is not clear which of the two major campaigns would be most affected. Ayatollah Mugsy was once a guest speaker at Democratic hopeful Barack Obama's church, along with pastor and amateur comedian Michael Pfleger. But Mugsy also reportedly took part in a casting-out-of-witches ceremony at [GOP vice presidential candidate] Sarah Palin's church in Wasilla, Alaska."

Fellows said that voters' decisions may come down to where they stand on the issue of gnomes' rights, always a touchy subject.

"It is really the third rail of American politics," Fellows said.

Pug-O-Ween pics

As promised, here are some pictures from this year's Pug-O-Ween extravaganza. Among the costumes were a mouse, Pugerace (Liberace pug), Morticia Addams, couch pugtatoes, Elvis Pugsley, a hot-air balloon (excellent, though I did not get any good photos of it) and a pug with a superb Mr. T starter set.

I tried to make a montage of costumes as I had in years past, but because of the infidel Bill Gates and his inferior Windows Vista, it was difficult. It is impossible to manipulate images in Photoshop with any accuracy on my current laptop, so please excuse the rough appearance. God willing, the ministry will receive sufficient donations to purchase a decent operating system.

Catching up with New Dog

I have some catching up to do, my flock. As promised, here is the tale of New Dog:

The happy ayatollah clan was returning from Pug-O-Ween when I spotted a little dog roaming the neighborhood. We didn't want him to get hit by a car, so mother got out and offered him a biscuit. The canine accepted.

Soon, he was running around the ayatollah compound as if he owned the place. He wore a collar, but there was no phone number or address for a human caretaker. With the understanding that our new brother might be with us for a while, we named him New Dog, ND for short (pronounced "Indy"). While mother made some signs and posted them around the neighborhood, Wendell and I began to acquaint ourselves with ND. We learned that he was a Lutheran, and that he had worked in Las Vegas as a lounge singer. His nickname was "Old Blue Eye," owing to his distinctive one-blue-eye-and-one-brown-eye appearance. He was also fast -- nearly as speedy as Wendell. This led to at least 30 minutes of outdoor fun for the young duo. After a couple of minutes of watching the black blur chase the white-brown blur, and vice versa, I retired to the living room.

ND later laid claim to some pre-chewed rawhide, which could have been a source of friction. But thankfully, father opened a new pack, and all was once again right with the world. ND slept in Wendell's crate that night.

The next morning, mother and father took ND to a local veterinarian's office. They found that he had a microchip beneath his skin, and it provided the information necessary to track down ND's human caretaker. Mother and father left ND with the vet, and we thought that would be the last we'd see of our new brother. But last night, as costumed children prowled the neighborhood and set my hackles on alert, I spied the unmistakable gait of ND. He was out walking with his human. As my family drove by, ND looked up, his blue eye twinkling in the moonlight. He nodded in appreciation for what Wendell and I had done for him. I nodded back. Then, rolling down the window, I barked, "You owe me a stick of rawhide, you furry mooch."

Code red! Code red!

I have detected the presence of some supernatural miscreants -- possibly witches -- in the neighborhood. Wendell and I have been holding them at bay by barking at them through the fence. I suspect that while we were outside, some of these pointy-hatted beings may have raided the ayatollah compound for treats. Gullible mother ...

I must go -- I think a princess is approaching, possibly with evil intentions.

Roaming gnomes

Happy post-Pug-O-Ween to you, my flock. I am pressed for time, thanks to an unexpected houseguest named New Dog and work commitments, so I can only post one photo from the big event for now. As you can see, Wendell and I dressed up as gnomes. It was an ideal costume choice, because it did not require me to shave my flowing beard. And because of the recent onset of puberty, Wendell now shares a similarly dashing facial mane.

I will share with you a sampling of the day's finest costumes when time allows. I will also try to explain who this New Dog is, and why he has a constant black, pug-shaped shadow.

Pug-O-Ween, here we come

I believe we have found a workable alternative to Wendell's costume, my flock. We may not be able to wear matching outfits (though we will still give it a shot at the Pug-O-Ween venue), but Wendell should still be adequately attired. Praise Allah! As I type this, mother is gathering our supplies for the big event. I must go and remind her to pack Milkbones.

Stay tuned for a plethora of costumed pug photos ...

Pug-O-Ween complications

My friends, the ministry is facing a crisis. Despite mother's best efforts, Wendell's Pug-O-Ween headwear will not stay in place. In fact, Wendell will not even stay in place. As I type this, my brother is racing in circles as mother attempts to corral him on the living-room rug, pug hat in hand. It has become apparent that Wendell may not be able to wear his full costume to tomorrow's holiday gathering -- the social event of the season for North Texas pugs. This could make it impossible for us to claim a prize in the group pug costume contest.

Pray for us, my flock. Pray that mother is able to find some means, any means, to get Wendell's costume to stay in place. Velcro, a chin strap, hot glue -- whatever it takes.

Red Scare

Had I known that there was such nostalgia in the United States for Joseph McCarthy, I would have included a shrine to the late senator in the plans for the Dogloo Mosque.

Pug-O-Ween preparations

Over the weekend, mother took out her needle and thread and began work on Pug-O-Ween costumes for Wendell and me. The big event is this Sunday. For those unfamiliar with this holiest of days, here are some links to my Pug-O-Ween posts from 2005 and 2006, when I dressed up as Batpug and the Pugly Duckling, respectively. Last year, a poorly timed vacation prevented me from attending. That will not be the case this year, as Wendell will get his first taste of this magical day. Praise Allah!

I hope to see (and sniff) my fellow Texas canines there.

Plumbing the depths

Greetings, my flock. I have spent the afternoon attempting to make contact with Joe the Plumber to recruit him into the ministry. Recent media reports make it apparent that he is now the most powerful, most important human in the United States, so I felt he could be an asset. Unfortunately, he has yet to return my calls. God willing, he will soon see the light and lend his considerable influence to our cause. Please pray that I do not have to settle for a second-rate partnership with Joe Six-Pack.

Tonight's debate

I have been somewhat disappointed with the presidential debate moderators thus far this year. Candidates have often ignored their questions, and some of the questions seemed rather insignificant, given the limited debate time. So I have been pushing the Commission on Presidential Debates to allow me to replace Bob Schieffer in tonight's third and final debate. I would be forceful. I would ask the right questions. And I would point out the candidates' frequent lies and half-truths and put them on the spot to defend them.

But the commission has turned me down. It seems that neither candidate is comfortable with being associated with a radical cleric. Why that has suddenly become an issue, I cannot say. But I have not given up on having an impact. This afternoon, I forwarded Mr. Schieffer a suggested script to follow. The script is long, so I cannot post it all here at this time, thanks to my fading infiDell laptop battery. But it includes such vital, probing questions as these:

• "Mr. Obama, you say your candidacy is about change. Yet there has been nary a mention of dogs' rights in your stump speeches. What would you do as president that would give canines a reason to fraudulently register through ACORN and vote for you?"


• "Mr. McCain, given your advanced age, it is clear that you have made an effort throughout this campaign to exude a certain vigor. Are you aware that the Fonz is no longer considered an icon of youthful cool?"

Mugsy condemns Dell infidels

"Get away from that!" we admonished. For months, my parents and I had made clear to young Wendell that the computer's power cord was not to be chewed on. And in this instance, at least, Wendell was, as the humans say, a "good boy." Not a single chew mark mars the cord. Yet it has still gone kaput, roughly 10 months after we purchased our current Dell laptop. Our previous computer had similar problems, with a power cord that is expensive yet apparently cheaply made. Now we must buy yet another cord to keep the ministry's online outreach afloat. Michael Dell, you are on thin ice. Thin ice.

Mark Wahlberg speaks to me

For some reason, I greatly enjoyed this skit from "Saturday Night Live." It fosters the kind of interspecies dialogue that Pug Life Ministries has always promoted.

Stock market turmoil

SEATTLE (AP) — A CNN-owned Web site called iReport.com, which publishes reports written by ordinary citizens, said Friday that it will give the Securities and Exchange Commission information about the author of an item that claimed Apple CEO Steve Jobs had converted to canine Islam.

The early morning report, which Apple Inc. spokesman Steve Dowling said was not true, sent shares plummeting to their lowest point in a year amid fears that Jobs would divert 10 percent of Apple's profits to tithe to Pug Life Ministries, which is led by the enigmatic Ayatollah Mugsy. The stock recovered around the time the post was removed from iReport.com but ended the day off 3 percent at $97.07 amid a broader market slide.

An SEC spokesman declined to comment.

The report on iReport.com said that Jobs, who has a history of health problems, suffered a fatal heart attack late Thursday but was revived by Ayatollah Mugsy, a firebrand cleric known for his radical views. The report said the ayatollah lifted Jobs' trademark turtleneck shirt and licked the CEO's belly button until life returned to him. Followers of the ayatollah believe that his saliva holds mystical healing powers, and the faithful have been known to stand in line for hours for the privilege of being sneezed upon by the bearded pug.

CNN spokeswoman Jennifer Martin said that the SEC contacted iReport.com Friday afternoon and that the site's staff is "doing its best to provide them with information about the posting." Martin said that "WPug," the author of the Steve Jobs post, had never posted in iReport.com before. She did not know when the person joined the site.

The VP debate

There has been much chatter among the TV talking heads about who "won" last night's vice presidential debate. Such talk seems to ignore the fact that this is a presidential election and not a high school debate competition. Adolf Hitler was a stirring and persuasive orator (and no, I'm not comparing either Joe Biden or Sarah Palin to him), but his ideas were all wrong. As Americans watch these debates, they must decide which ticket offers the best ideas and the best strategies for their country. And if they determine that neither candidate is quite right for them, they may want to throw their support and their money behind a certain separatist canine Muslim ministry.

Aquapug

With the summer coming to a close, many area pools have welcomed dogs for a day. The practice is not ideal -- I would certainly prefer that we canines have the freedom to swim whenever we please. But it's a start on the road to greater canine civil rights. Wendell recently attended one of these events at Hawaiian Falls water park in Garland, where he got to swim in a wave pool and ride with father on an inner tube around the lazy river. Wendell and I had earlier attended a dog day at a community pool in Carrollton, where Wendell splashed about and I waded in up to my six-pack abs -- to the surprise of my parents. For the Hawaiian Falls trip, they decided to leave me at home so that Wendell wouldn't be distracted by my presence. He tends to want to stay close to me when I'm around, and I'm not much of a swimmer. I took the afternoon to work on my memoirs and this weekend's sermon. Here's what Wendell did:

Wendell would swim in the mini-wave pool to a ledge out in the middle, where he could catch his breath. Then, urged on by our parents, he would dive in ...

... and splash down.

Then he'd swim back to the shallow end and find a dog or person to try to follow. He is, after all, still a puppy.

After he got tired of swimming, we met up with some of the good people from DFW Pug Rescue, who gave Wendell a snazzy bandanna. They told us that Pug-O-Ween is coming up the last Sunday of October, so Wendell and I have been brainstorming costume ideas. Any suggestions?

Mugsy gets long-winded on financial crisis

These are extraordinary times, my flock. Thursday evening, Washington Mutual became the latest victim of America's financial crisis. In Washington, lawmakers appeared to have in place a deal for a massive handout of borrowed funds from future, perhaps yet unborn taxpayers. But it all seemed to fall apart following a meeting of the minds at the White House.

Of all the high-stakes machinations of recent days, the most remarkable display came when a presidential candidate said the dire economic situation had compelled him to suspend his campaign. (He did not suspend his media-interview stump speeches, or his fundraising. But this is, I'm certain he would say, beside the point.) In this most remarkable of moves, he sought to equate a presidential election -- and one of the few forums in which voters can actually get an unfiltered view of the candidates, untainted by the distortions of campaign ads -- with petty politics. While finding a solution for the economic meltdown and credit crunch is crucial, I tend to believe that determining who will lead this country for the next four years is fairly important, too. But perhaps I am just peculiar in that way.

So where does the ministry stand on this bailout business? It is hard to say. On the one paw, I have a significant portion of my net worth tied up in stock investments and rawhide -- and both have been rapidly depleted in recent weeks. If a bailout could stabilize the financial markets and restore some luster to my portfolio, I might be inclined to support it. On the other paw, I resent the idea of taxpayers having to prop up multi-billion-dollar businesses that made irresponsible decisions in the interest of inflating their share prices and putting ill-gotten gains in the pockets of high-level executives.

So there are no easy answers. Perhaps I shall hedge my bets and support a bailout of some sort while once again ducking the IRS.

Mugsy issues fatwa

Too many times have I narrowly escaped disaster, swerving or stopping just in time. Too many times have I shaken my furry paw-fist in indignation. The infidels who have stoked my road-rage have left me no choice but to issue a fatwa! When going through an intersection with dual turn lanes, the car in the inside lane must remain in its inside lane. This is not only the law, it is required by canine Islam! Do not anger Allah with your wide-turning encroachment; drive righteously. The next infidel whose wide turning puts him on a collision course with the ayatollahmobile will be stripped of his driving privileges and his pants and left at the roadside.

Awaiting my check

Greetings, my flock. I have spent the last two days corresponding with the White House and Treasury Department as I pursued a bailout check for the ministry. I heard that the American taxpayers were generously giving away hundreds of billions of dollars, so naturally I wanted a piece of the action to pay off the mortgage on the ayatollah compound. Unfortunately, I was told that citizens who chose slowly but steadily appreciating homes that they could actually afford were out of luck.

This was most disheartening, but I hear there is actually a pit bull on one of the presidential tickets. Perhaps, God willing, she will be more sensitive to the needs of America's fiscally responsible canines.

Best Buddy

I hereby present the coveted Pug Life Medal of Valor to Buddy the German Shepherd, who saved his human caretaker's life by calling 911 when the man had a seizure. And police said this wasn't the first time the trained assistance dog had been there for Joe Stalnaker. Buddy had previously made two other 911 calls when Stalnaker was having seizures.

On a recording of the 911 call, Buddy is heard whimpering and barking after the dispatcher in Scottsdale, Ariz., answers and repeatedly asks if the caller needs help. "Hello, this is 911. Hello ... Can you hear me? Is there somebody there you can give the phone to?" says the dispatcher. Despite the dispatcher's lack of canine language training, Buddy's call was successful. Stalnaker's address was flagged in Scottsdale's system with a notification that the 18-month-old Buddy could call 911 when the owner was incapacitated.

For his quick thinking, heroism and superior phone skills, Buddy is deserving of this prestigious medal -- the ministry's highest civilian honor. A grateful canine nation thanks you, Buddy. Long may you wag.

The great Geraldo

Praise be to Geraldo Rivera, for risking life, limb and his iconic mustache to keep us informed on Hurricane Ike. Do you remember all the sayings about Chuck Norris that started to appear on the Internet a few years ago? Those apply to Geraldo, as well.

Death from above

This one's for mother.

A walk and a surprise

It was a lovely evening. Mother arrived home from work, earlier than usual, and said the magical "W" word: Walk. Wendell sprang from his pillow and ran a quick circle, while I was more nonchalant but no less giddy. In short order, we were both tethered to our leashes and heading out the door. The smells of the neighborhood were magnificent, as usual. I tend to savor each scent, believing that every aroma is a blessing from Allah. Wendell is more of a racer, intent on covering as much ground as possible. As you might imagine, the elder pug's methods generally win out. Just across the bridge, I found a nice patch of grass. "Come, Wendell," I instructed. "Let us pay special attention to the scents here. You have much to learn." With that, we lowered our noses to the grass and began to make our rounds. As I sniffed, I came across a colony of large ants and shared with them a brief sermon and my latest fatwas. Roughly 90 percent of the insects converted to canine Islam on the spot, and the other 10 percent, well, I sensed that they were trouble-makers and wouldn't contribute any rawhide to the offering plate, anyway. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw mother sweeping something off her foot. "Come on, pugs," she said. "Let's go." Rather than resist the gentle pull of the leash, I went along. It had been a good walk, and I could use a drink.

Back at the ayatollah compound, I took my place on the recliner and began to meditate. I was nearing a dreamlike state when I sensed a fellow creature near me. Moving my head to the side, I spied a pair of luscious, pouting lips. "Angelina," I barked, still half-asleep, "I see that my harem invitation has been well-received. Welcome to the ... Ack!" I nearly jumped out of my fur. The massive-lipped woman before me was not a Hollywood harem prospect at all. Instead, it was my mother, suffering the effects of an acute allergic reaction. Her face was puffy and red, and hives had broken out all over her body. Her feet were swollen to mammoth proportions. "Mugsy," she said, "I've got to go to the emergency room."

Don't fear, my flock. Mother is now home, and thanks to some Benadryl and steroids, she is feeling much better. And as for that aforementioned 10 percent of ne'er-do-well ants who had the audacity to attack my mother, know that they will be made an example of as a warning to other infidel bugs in the neighborhood. Just as soon as I find enough tiny banana hooks to go around.

Back in action

You may have noticed that Wendell's Olympic coverage abruptly ended. He did not fill you in on Eagle the pug's historic three gold medals in dog-paddling. Nor did he tell you about the Pugistani basketball team's embarrassing defeat against the U.S., brought about by our team's lack of size after our lone Great Dane got into foul trouble. As it turns out, young Wendell got too involved in partying at the Olympic village, and he completely forgot to post on the blog. This confirmed my long-held belief that Wendell suffers from attention-deficit disorder. The ministry apologizes for any inconvenience, and we will certainly be more cautious in the future about assigning such an important task to a puppy.




The ayatollah family recently returned from a trip to the beautiful city of San Francisco, where I addressed a convention of sea lion imams. As you may recall, hundreds of the marine mammals pledged their allegiance to Pug Life Ministries late last year. Since then, I have stayed in contact with the sea lions, offering them spiritual guidance and strengthening our alliance. We bark the same language, so it is only natural that we help each other out. God willing, the sea lions will govern the western province of Pugistan in short order.

Michael Phelps suffers stunning loss

BEIJING (AP) -- Michael Phelps' bid for a record ninth gold medal in the Beijing Olympics was foiled early Sunday by Eagle the Pug, who set a world record in the 100-meter dog paddle.

Phelps was undefeated in these Games before he went up against the Texas pug, who was swimming as a member of the Pugistani team. Eagle had actually posted better times than Phelps in two previous races -- the 200-meter freestyle and 100-meter butterfly -- but was disqualified because of improper form.

Eagle was in his element in the dog paddle, however, finishing the race in 1 minute, 35 seconds to top his previous world record by 1.5 seconds. Analysts noted that Eagle pulled off the upset win despite being the furriest competitor in the otherwise clean-shaven field.

Eagle and his brothers Ranger and Flyer are the heavy favorites in Monday's 3x100-meter dog paddle relay, which could make Eagle the first two-time medalist from the breakaway republic of Pugistan. In addition to swimming the anchor leg for the team, Eagle is also the coach.

Ayatollah Mugsy, the iron-pawed ruler of Pugistan and supreme ayatollah of Pug Life Ministries, released a statement praising Eagle as a national hero. "In the true spirit of amateur athletics, all who witnessed this amazing feat will surely be moved to donate to the ministry's coffers," Mugsy said.

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WATCH THE VIDEO to see Eagle barking orders during the relay team's training.

Wendell goes for the gold

BEIJING (AP) -- Shaking off an injured paw and a poor start, Wendell the Pug roared back Saturday to win the first gold medal for Pugistan in the 100-meter run.

Wendell, the younger brother of religious icon Ayatollah Mugsy, tore off his plastic neck cone as he walked to the starting blocks, showing no ill effects from a recent foot infection. The more than 90,000 fans in attendance roared in approval as Wendell began to yip at his competitors in an apparent bid to psych them out.

After the race began, Wendell ran in three tight circles around the starting line, falling behind by at least 15 meters. But then he tucked his tail and took off like a rocket, blazing past silver-medalist Usain Bolt of Jamaica and shattering the world record with a time of 8 seconds.

Bronze medalist Richard Thompson of Trinidad and Tobago filed a protest after the race, alleging that Wendell was too young to compete. The dog's official Pugistani birth certificate, which bore a fresh price tag from Kinko's, indicated that he was 38 years old, but observers pointed to ample evidence that Wendell was still a puppy. Still, the International Olympic Committee, known for turning a blind eye to evidence of rules violations, was expected to rule in Wendell's favor.

"The IOC made no move against the Chinese women's gymnastics team," said TV broadcaster Mary Carillo, referring to another age scandal at these Olympic Games. "And if you recall the old East German women's teams, the IOC overlooked clues like 5 o'clock shadow and bulging adam's apples. I think Wendell's medal is safe."

As Wendell walked to the podium to accept his medal, there was a brief controversy over which song to play. Pugistan, a disputed territory in the American Southwest, does not have a formal national anthem. The nation's ruling junta ultimately decided on "Dogs Barking Jingle Bells" as Pugistan's temporary anthem.

Wendell accepted his medal and then raised his right paw in a black-pug power salute. It was a show of defiance, and an announcement that Pugistan had arrived on the international sporting stage.

Bad news for Pugistan?

BEIJING (AP) -- One of the leading gold-medal contenders for the upstart Pugistani Olympic delegation was rumored to be ailing Friday, a day ahead of his bid to win the 100-meter dash.


An undated photo showing 1-year-old sprinter Wendell with a cone around his neck appeared in China's state-run media Friday. It was reported that Wendell may have had a minor foot injury that could keep him from competing. The pug, known for his blazing speed, had been considered the top challenger to American Tyson Gay in the event.


The Pugistani Olympic Committee, led by the enigmatic Ayatollah Mugsy, declined to comment. But experts said Wendell's medal hopes could take a big hit if he isn't fully healed by race time.


"I've got major concerns for Wendell," said Carl Lewis, a former track star and 10-time Olympic medalist. "That cone would severely impact his aerodynamic profile."

Phelps spanks the competition, and Bush ... um ...

Hi, everybody. Wendell here with your Olympics update. Michael Phelps is the big story so far, winning a record 11th gold medal. And he's not done yet. Can he finish the sweep and grab eight gold medals in these Summer Games? Only time will tell -- but I hear there's some tough competition ahead. The small Pugistani delegation has yet to have its first competitor, but when we do, watch out. Oh, and Mugsy told me to fill you in on all the big news out of Beijing, but .. I don't know what President Bush was up to. You'll have to write your own caption for this one.

And the first gold medal goes to ...

Hey, everybody. Wendell here. Big Brother Mugsy asked me to keep an eye on the Olympics and post all the major stories here, so for the duration of the Games, I'll be reporting to you from Beijing. The first gold medal has already been awarded -- to a human. Katerina Emmons (above) from the Czech Republic won the 10-meter air rifle competition. The Pugistani delegation thought the Olympic Games were just for actual sports and not children's toys, so we didn't have an athlete in this event. That's OK, though. Soon enough, we'll get in on the action. Although Emmons captured the gold, the biggest story out of this event came when the gold-medal favorite, American Ralphie Parker, shot his eye out. Get well soon, kid.

Abundant excess

Even if I were allowed to crawl into my sizable food bin (and don't think I haven't tried), I could not possibly be more bloated than the opening ceremony of the Olympics.

Let the Games begin

The Quran warns us against being prideful, my flock. And so today is a difficult day for me. As the Summer Olympics open in the ancestral homeland of the Chinese pug, I cannot help but feel proud of the first-ever Pugistani delegation to the Games. Reaching this point has not been easy. There was political intrigue, as rival nations tried to exclude our canine brothers from the competition. And there were allegations of performance-enhancing drugs. The tension in the air at yesterday's IOC meeting was so thick that you could cut it with a knife -- much like the actual, soot-filled air of Beijing. But I made my final appeal, and the Olympic committee voted to grant the Pugistani delegation full access. Allahu akbar! God willing, our collars will soon be weighted down with gold medals.

Garage sale: Packing it in

Another infidel driveby! We can take no more, my flock. We are dragging our five items of actual value back into the garage. Any who drive by for the rest of the day will find a driveway full of free items. Please, take it. Take it all ...

This has been Ayatollah Mugsy, bringing you a historic live blogging event. Until next time, you stay classy, Pugistan.

Garage sale: The blue suitcase

Nearly every woman who stops takes a look at our little blue suitcase box, which can be had for the low, low price of only $1. But they all put it down and move along. I blame the weak economy and depleted value of the dollar. Garage sales, it seems, are the silent victims of this recession. If only we could truck our goods to Canada to take advantage of the strong loonie ...

Garage sale: Great success!

A kindly old woman took pity on us and purchased $7 worth of fine merchandise. This will go straight to the Dogloo mosque fund. Only $999,999,993 to go.

Garage sale: Rejected

Not only did they buy nothing, but the little girl refused to say goodbye. I sense that the ducks across the street are laughing at us.

Garage sale: Dry spell ending?

Yes! Someone stopped! Praise Allah!!

Garage sale: Economics lesson

Making $5 an hour: Not good.

Making $5 an hour in 100-degree heat: Even worse.

Someday, the humans will figure this out.

Garage sale: Mugsy condemns drive-bys

They slow down, 7 mph, or perhaps 5. They gaze down their noses as they round the corner. Then they speed away, insulting us with their exhaust fumes. Infidels ...

Garage sale: Bargains go unnoticed

We are nearly four hours in, and still nobody has claimed any of our free items. That is right, my flock, the price tags on our treadmill and rickety weight bench both simply say "free." Could the ministry possibly be any more generous? Will I have to start taping dollar bills to these items to make it worthwhile for someone to claim them? Because I am not above such tactics.

Allah, we pray that we do not have to lug this junk, er, these treasures back inside.

Garage sale: The chicken dance

We have just sold a set of glassware. After some tense negotiations, we agreed to go from $3 to $2. This latest pair of ladies was accompanied by two children, who found our stuffed chicken that dances and plays the chicken dance to be immensely entertaining. Unfortunately, the elders did not take notice. For only $2, they could have given their children a lifetime of laughs. But they instead chose to ignore the cheers of pure joy and herded their now heartbroken girls back into their pickup truck.

We know who won't be winning Pug Life's Parent of the Year Award.

Mugsy experiments with live blogging

You may have seen, from time to time, live blogging from major events. The Oscars, the Super Bowl, a presidential inauguration -- all have had their share of play-by-play analysis posted live on the Web. Now, Pug Life Ministries brings you a first: live blogging from a garage sale.

Stay tuned; excitement surely awaits.

Mugsy endorses candidate

I don't usually get involved in partisan politics on this blog, but I am going to make an exception. At this point in our nation's history, the stakes are too high for me to remain silent. There is one candidate and one candidate alone with the ability to excite us, with the potential to renew our faith in the democratic process. He is handsome and charismatic, brimming with youthful vigor. His ideas are fresh. A relative political newcomer, he is free of the corruption and cynicism that so often permeate the political process. And he can help break down boundaries that have stood in this country for far too long.

Today, my flock, I offer my endorsement to the one and only Willie Bean Roscoe P. Coltrane. This 7-year-old Labrador retriever is running for mayor of Fairhope, Ala. And although his candidacy started as a joke, the Coltrane train is now on the tracks and picking up steam. My sources tell me that residents of Fairhope are growing more excited by the day. They are intrigued by the idea of canine rule. Look at the current state of the economy -- could canines have done any worse? Fill the House, Senate and White House with dogs, and I guarantee you one thing at the very least: They would not approve a half-trillion-dollar deficit like the one projected for 2009.

Said one wise Fairhope resident of the furry mayor-in-waiting, "He doesn't have any skeletons in his closet. He's eaten them all."

Change is in the air, my flock. Embrace it. Embrace the estimable Willie Bean Roscoe P. Coltrane.

Mugsy issues fatwa

Too many times have I been distracted. A flash of light shatters the darkness, drawing my gaze away from the big screen and onto the tiny screen of a cell phone. And for what -- an insignificant text message? "No more!" I say. The infidels at the movie theater have left me no choice but to issue a fatwa!

Henceforth under canine Islam, it is strictly forbidden to use a cell phone for any purpose in a theater while the movie is showing. If your text-message conversation is truly more interesting than the film you paid $9 to see, then step outside and spare the rest of us your annoying presence. Violators will forfeit their thumbs.

Temptation is everywhere

Dallas is in the midst of its annual Mary Kay convention, and longtime students of this blog know what that means: Temptation. But I have been strong, my flock. God willing, I will make it to Aug. 2 -- when the parade of pink Cadillacs finally leaves town -- without repeating the mistakes of my past.

Lost ring? I pity the Foo

Though my father swam a dozen or so laps, scouring the bottom of the pool, our efforts to retrieve mother's wedding ring were unsuccessful. He found only a plastic ring, the rubber from the leg of a deck chair and two pieces of chewed gum (deposited in the pool in blatant violation of my fatwa at the 2003 Radical Clerics' Convention in Tehran). God willing, their marriage will survive the loss of this ring, with the help of counseling from the ministry.

After our unsuccessful retrieval mission, I went to Oklahoma City for a couple of days. My aunt had tickets to see the Foo Fighters, peace be upon them, and she invited me to go along. This was the third time I had seen the band, dating back to the mid-'90s. This may seem peculiar to you, given the fact that I am a 7-year-old pug. But Allah works in mysterious ways. My first Foo Fighters show was in the historic Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa, a small venue that lacked air conditioning and was stiflingly hot, inspiring an alternate version of the song "Big Me" that has become popular on the bootleg circuit. It was interesting to see how the band had changed from those early days as I watched them Thursday at the cavernous Ford Center, soon to be the home of Oklahoma City's new NBA team.

Singer Dave Grohl first hit it big as drummer for the legendary band Nirvana, whose Pixies-inspired punk sensibilities rejected the trappings of arena rock. Now, the Foo Fighters have embraced such bombast. Thursday's show, which was excellent albeit a bit loud for my aging ears, featured a large entourage of backing musicians and a much-touted triangle solo that was met with a thunderous standing ovation.

I will pass no judgments on the merits of such a style shift except to say that any drum solo exceeding five minutes is probably excessive.

Banding together

The time is 12:06 a.m., and I am about to embark on an important mission. Mother went swimming earlier at a friend's neighborhood pool, and upon her return, she discovered that her wedding band was gone. She had already, months ago, lost her cubic zir ..., er, diamond engagement ring, which lies somewhere in the dark recesses of the floorboards of father's car.

So we are going to try to retrieve the wedding band. Since water is involved, I will naturally be eschewing a paws-on role in favor of a supervisory position. Pray for us, my flock. Can we preserve their union? Or are my parents' days of wedded bliss over?

Sweet dreams

My brother, Wendell, is barking in his sleep. I suspect he is dreaming about rawhide. But then again, aren't we all?

Used-car salespug

Several weeks ago, mother purchased a new car. Or a newer one, at least. And since then, her old vehicle had sat in the street at the side of the house, contributing nothing of value to the household. My parents made a few half-hearted attempts to sell it -- taking it to the local Walgreens with a partially melted for-sale sign in the window, for example -- but they achieved no success. Not a single phone call. Finally, I could take no more. "Mother, father," I barked, "this is the weekend. We must sell that car. It is blocking my view of the creek." And with that, I took control of the project. This was a bit of a stretch for me -- being a salesman is vastly different from being the leader of a congregation. But I had faith in my abilities.

The vehicle in question was mechanically sound, yet it was on the wrong side of 150,000 miles and had some exterior blemishes. Father tells me that he and his friends would have loved to have had such a car back when he was in high school -- did I mention that it's supercharged? -- but the demographics did not seem to be in our favor in our relatively affluent suburb. Here, the teenagers often drive nicer cars than mother and father. It's disgusting, really.

So I decided to cast a wider net, posting my first-ever ad on Craigslist on Friday evening. Soon, the calls poured in from across the metro area. As the first prospective buyer made his way to our house, I eyeballed the family. "Mother," I barked, "you're not really going to wear that shirt in front of the customers, are you? It might send the wrong message." She looked down at her "I Drink Your Milkshake" T-shirt, blushed and then went to change. The prospect brought a canine along and showed some interest, but he was not ready to commit to a sale that evening.

That was OK; I had others. Saturday arrived, and an enthusiastic lad named Jeremy called. I detailed for him the car's condition, and he proceeded to ask why I was selling the car so cheap. I took this as a good sign. Then he told me that he thought he'd like to buy it. "Why don't you come on over and take it for a spin, Jeremy," I barked. Jeremy took longer than expected to arrive, but he eventually found the compound. He must have been 17 or 18, and his father accompanied him. They looked the car over closely, and Jeremy seemed downright giddy. They took it for a long test drive, and while they were gone I received more calls about the car. Finally, they returned.

Jeremy's father said that he was concerned about the engine noise. I told him it had been that way for as long as I could recall, and it ran just fine. Perhaps it was just the supercharger. Jeremy liked this explanation. After some more time under the hood, the father brought out an offer: $200 less than the $2,500 I was asking for the old Buick. I glanced over at Jeremy, who was practically drooling over the thought of this somewhat sporty set of wheels and its respectable 240-horsepower engine. "No," I barked, "I am fairly certain I can get $2,500 for the car."

The father grimaced. "I hate buying used cars. What do you think," he said, nodding toward his son. "Oh, you know what I think!" Jeremy replied. Soon, we had a deal, at full asking price. "Jeremy," I barked, as I went to retrieve the title, "would you care to play poker sometime?"

A minor formality

A story with the potential to shake this ministry to its core recently came across my desk. A man in Knoxville, Tenn., says he was so consumed by the spirit of God that he fell and hit his head while worshipping. Now, 57-year-old Matt Lincoln is suing his church for $2.5 million for medical bills, lost income, and pain and suffering. If successful, this lawsuit could set a dangerous precedent for Pug Life Ministries, my flock. So I must ask that you all now sign the waiver below and have it notarized.

I hereby assume all risks involved in my participation in Pug Life Ministries. I fully understand that the power of Allah, when channeled through the world's pre-eminent pug ayatollah, can be unpredictable and potentially dangerous. I hereby agree not to sue Pug Life Ministries, Ayatollah Mugsy or any other representatives of the ministry for any injuries, real or imagined, that may befall me in the course of my worshipping, religious instruction, faith-healing or exorcism, should the ayatollah deem such action necessary. In the event of my passing, I shall forfeit all property, bank accounts, stocks, bonds and rawhide deposits to Ayatollah Mugsy, peace be upon him.

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(Signature) (Print name) (Date)

Among the giants

My veterinarian has at last cleared me to return to full blogging duties, and it is good to be back. Young Wendell did an admirable job filling in for me, and he will surely return from time to time. As expected, his youthful energy helped the ministry make great inroads among the coveted "tween" market. And as far as the tabloid rumors that Wendell has recently begun dating Disney star Miley Ray Cyrus, I can neither confirm nor deny.

The ayatollah clan spent the weekend in Oklahoma, where we met up with an old friend from Chicago whom we had not seen in several years. We also had the pleasure of meeting his girlfriend for the first time. I sensed that she was quite smitten with my puppy-dog eyes -- as many of you know, I have a certain effect on females of all species. But I promised our Chicago friend that I would not attempt to steal her away for my harem. As it is, overcrowding is already a significant problem.

While in Norman, we stopped by Heisman Park to pay homage to the University of Oklahoma's four Heisman Trophy winners. Among them is the great Billy Sims (right), peace be upon him and his fearsome 'fro. For many, OU football is a religion on par with canine Islam. And there is no reason the two cannot peacefully co-exist.


As I knelt before the statue of Billy Vessels, I said a quiet prayer. "Great, merciful God, deliver us from the summer doldrums of the baseball season so that we might watch football again. Aug. 30 cannot come soon enough. Amen."

Happy Independence Day

Happy birthday to America, the greatest Great Satan in the world! May you all enjoy a restful yet fun-filled weekend.

Mugsy returns

Greetings, my flock. Your furry imam has returned. I am going to have my stitches taken out tomorrow morning, and the veterinarian tells me it is OK to resume light blogging. Praise Allah! Soon, God willing, I will be allowed to go on a walk again. Or as my parents say when they don't want to excite me, "W-A-L-K." The silly humans think I can't spell.

Beating the heat

Hey, everybody, Wendell here again. It is HOT outside. I was born last August and didn't go outside much my first couple of months, so this is my first real taste of the Texas heat. When it's this hot, a pug's gotta do whatever he can to stay cool. Fortunately, I don't share my big brother's aversion to water. So I've been hittin' the hose pretty frequently.

Ahhhh .... so refreshing.

The humans won't let me come back inside before I dry off, so I try to help them out. Now you're probably wondering how Mugsy beats the heat. Well, he has his own favorite method:

Air conditioning.