Thursday, February 28, 2008

Buongiorno from Venice

Greetings, my flock. I am writing you from an Internet cafe near Piazza San Marco in Venice, where I have spent the last several days. The Italians have far more progressive views on canine rights than many of us are accustomed to. It is common to see dogs here in bakeries and cafes. I even spoke with a large Weimeraner in a Coin department store. Like me, he was eyeballing the women's lingerie. I asked no questions, and neither did he. So it was a good talk.

Not only are the canines here afforded rights nearly equal to the humans, but they also all seem to wear designer doggy coats -- Prada, Gucci, etc. Had America's inept human ruling class not destroyed the value of the once-mighty dollar, perhaps I would be able to afford such luxuries. Instead, I am forced to wear only my modest turban and gold-encrusted medallion.

A couple of days ago, I toured the Doge's Palace, where I studied the ways of the Venetian aristocracy and government. This should prove most beneficial as we transition to the canine rule of Pugistan. Already, I am drawing up plans for a Grand Inquisitor's Council to investigate treachery and other infidel acts. If you believe you are sufficiently ruthless, you may submit your resume via e-mail.

My Internet time is nearly up, so I must wander on, my flock. Arrivederci, and Allah be with you.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

The photos I promised

Last week, I promised to post photos of our canine Valentine's Day party in return for your Valentine's haikus. Unfortunately, we pugs had to leave town unexpectedly last weekend. That left us without access to our computer, and thus, unable to post. But I am a pug of my word. So here, without further adieu, is a brief photo album of our party day.

I meditated with Wendell to prepare him for the upcoming kissing contest. "Focus," I told him. "Let your lips become one with Allah."

The competition was fierce.

Among the competitors was a rabbit, whom Wendell attempted to psych out with his wide-eyed stare.

Unfortunately, Wendell's efforts came up just short. This woman and her little white dog were declared the winners after a long and lusty smooch that made this cleric more than a bit uncomfortable. Notice that they share the same hairdo.

But Wendell continued to practice his craft. "Next time ..." he barked.

And his loss in the kissing contest couldn't spoil our day -- PetCo gave us free canine cookies to decorate. I had planned to list all the members of my harem, but I was told there wasn't enough peanut butter icing.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Mugsy announces contest winners

Happy Valentine's Day, beloved congregants of Pug Life Ministries. As Cupid fires his tasty rawhide arrows, I now present to you the winners of our Valentine's Day Haiku Contest, along with some other notable entries. Thank you to all who submitted poems for this noble endeavor. It was a fine field of entries, and judging was most difficult. The top two finishers may send me their mailing addresses to receive prizes.

"Ayatollah Pug"
Infidel slayer
Barking the word of Allah
With breath of rawhide

Aloft Texas Winds
Hearts Soar With Admiration
Mugsy So Deserves
- Eagle

Such is the Great Mugs
Faithful will even eat bugs
For the love of Mugs
- Gypsy Rose
"The Dream"
Pugistan, Rawhide
Nation, led by fierce Mugsy
From his Dogloo mosque
Infidel Blue Bull
Suffered wrath; pug hung him out
On banana hook
Panty raids lead to
Jailtime conversion, pug once
Bad now enlightened
Italian stallion
humping Venus De Milo
Mugsy arrested
- Nevis
Your heavy breathing
makes you unsuitable for
hide-and-seek, but cute
- Mugsy's Mother
my brother also
makes a very nice pillow
for afternoon naps
- Wendell

Ayatollah, I have a mole-a.
Only you can heal it.
Stike a pose, wave your wand,
and I shall be whole-a...
- Rusty
Ayatollah Mugsy sizzles
rain or shine
plentiful rawhide
jessica simpson
in short mini
Great Mugsy the leader
blesses his flock
hot harem
graces the world
leading the way
- Cleveland

Monday, February 11, 2008

Trouble in Tuscany

As I mentioned a while back, I will soon be traveling to Italy. It is the low season for tourism there, but a little cold weather will not deter me. After all, I have a thick fur coat to keep me warm. After a week in Venice, my travels will take me to Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance. I have long been an admirer of the ideals of this period -- the explosion of great art, architecture and, especially, Machiavellian wisdom. So visiting this Tuscan capital is the source of much excitement for me.

But I am aware of the very real danger that Florence poses. Some who travel there succumb to the dreaded Stendhal syndrome -- an affliction affecting those overcome by the city's artwork and intense beauty. Symptoms can include dizziness, fainting and hallucinations. Honestly, it is a wonder that tourists continue to visit this den of danger.

In preparation for my travels, I have been taking in the artful masterpieces of, hoping to build up an immunity before I face the Florentine menace. I will stay strong, my flock. I intend to stare Florence in the eye, and God willing, I will do so without being driven mad.

Valentine's Day contest

Valentine's Day is fast approaching, my flock. This is always a stressful time for me, with so many of my harem mates angling for my affections. But this year, it is doubly stressful. In addition to the pressures of this pagan holiday, I am facing an impending nomination deadline for the Nobel Peace Prize. This will be my fourth straight year to enter, and this time, God willing, I intend to win. But I cannot do it without your help.

I have come to the conclusion that the missing piece in my application is an impartial accounting of my greatness. Certainly, I try to paint a picture for the judges, in my own modest way. But I suspect that they do not understand the depths of devotion my teachings inspire. They have not heard from the heathens I saved, the lepers I healed. So I invite you, dear readers, to augment my Nobel Prize application with your own testimonial, in the form of a romantic Valentine's Day haiku.

A source tells me that this is how Al Gore won the most recent prize, and its accompanying cash award. But I am not requiring anyone to take part. You will not be excommunicated if you choose not to document your love for me and the ministry. But those who take part will be entered in a contest for a fabulous prize from the ministry's gift shop.

To enter, send your Valentine's Day haiku to or send me a message on my MySpace page or my new Facebook page. Please put "haiku" in the subject line. The deadline to enter is 10 a.m. Thursday.

If I receive a sufficient number of entries, I will post photos of the Valentine's Day party I attended over the weekend in which young Wendell competed in a slobber-filled contest for the title of best kisser.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

Mugsy condemns commercial

As longtime readers of my teachings well know, I am a distinguished afficionado of undergarments. But I can no longer condone a certain television advertisement for Hanes. Why, oh mighty Allah, would Michael Jordan give Cuba Gooding Jr. underwear? And why would the actor then scream across the room, "I'm wearing your underwear!"? This is the greatest basketball player of his generation, an athlete whom my father once drove 12 hours one-way to watch in a playoff game. Are we expected to believe that he doles out undergarments to B-list actors? No! No, I say! The absurdity of it boggles the mind. So I am left with no choice. I hereby issue a fatwa! This ridiculous commercial must never be allowed to air again.

Anyone violating this binding religious decree will suffer loss of undergarments, among other harsh penalties.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

All ears

Cleanliness holds a special place in canine Islam. This is why I have grudgingly consented to my monthly baths and occasional nail trimmings. And for many years, my cleaning ritual included mother giving a thorough scrubbing to my ears. This was most unpleasant, my flock, and I suspect that she derived a certain sadistic pleasure from it. But thankfully, mother's ear-cleansing ritual is no longer necessary. Ever since Wendell joined our family, my ears have been spotless. The young pug's slender, serpentine tongue has proven capable of reaching every nook and cranny of my silky-smooth auditory appendages. May Allah watch over you, my brother, and may your taste for wax never wane.