Jake: 2001-2009

Today, I lost an old friend. Rabbi Jake, one of the elders of Pug Life Ministries, passed away after falling ill last week. I first met Jake when I was a puppy. He, too, was a youngster, and although we were about the same age, he always seemed like an older dog. Health problems plagued the schnauzer throughout his too-short life. He struggled to stand up on his own in recent years, but once he was upright, he still derived great pleasure from taking long, leisurely walks around the neighborhood. It was my distinct privilege to accompany him on some of those excursions. The sights and smells he'd encounter on those Oklahoma sidewalks always made Jake's day, and he would often give a grateful nip on the nose to his humans to show his appreciation.

Jake made his first appearance on this blog in the ministry's early days, back in 2005. And since then, I was honored to have Jake at my side for numerous momentous occasions. Our efforts for Mideast peace frequently left us exhausted, yet always hopeful. Jake was there to help me through the enriched rawhide crisis of 2006, and he helped me celebrate at the inaugural Ayatollah Mugsy Scouts spring cotillion last year. Jake also introduced me to the brand of canine freedom that only a doggy door can provide. We shared toys, bones and an appreciation for a good belly rub or a scratch behind the ears. You know, the finer things in life.

I am saddened that I will have no more adventures with Rabbi Jake, either on this blog or in his living room. Like all dogs, he was taken from us too soon. But I know that Jake was always loved by his family, and that he returned that love unconditionally. This, ultimately, makes the grief that we are now experiencing worthwhile.

Goodbye, my friend. We'll miss you.

Transfer of power

I have been involved today in a major transfer of power involving the U.S. government, my flock. Fortunately, the media have been too caught up in this whole inauguration spectacle to notice my maneuverings. The longer we can keep my Pugistani power grab under the radar, the better.

Dog park insult

Wendell and I took a recent trip to the Plano dog park, one of my favorite spots for sniffing and recruiting new followers to the ministry. Wendell has a touch of social anxiety disorder, but overall, he seemed to enjoyed his outing -- though I do wish he wouldn't lie on his back to let other dogs sniff him. Such behavior is unbecoming a possible future ayatollah. As I sniffed at a particularly fragrant patch of grass, near the park's fire hydrant, a young boy strode toward me. He came from a good 30 feet away, his eyes fixed on me the entire time. I assumed he was a fan, perhaps seeking an autograph. Or a child leper in need of healing. But he stopped short in his approach. Looking at my face and speaking to no one in particular, the boy said, "He's not very ... cute."

I am sure that your jaw just dropped, fair reader, as did my mother's. "I think he's very cute," mother said, stating the obvious.

You may be wondering what fate befell this boy who dared to impugn my cuteness. But I took the high road, my flock. I did not point out to the little hooligan that he was the ugliest child in the entire enclosure. (Though he surely was; father probably would have been tempted to say so if he had heard what the urchin said.) Nor did I order the Armed Revolutionary Forces (ARF) to take him into custody for "interrogation," or worse. No, I simply turned the other cheek. Just as the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, spared the town of Ta'if after its residents threw stones at him, I allowed this boy to escape punishment for his verbal assault. Am I getting soft in my old age? Pray it is not so.

Maybe next year ...

Well, my flock, it was not meant to be for the Sooners. Wendell and I are dealing with the loss in our own unique ways (above). But overall, it was a good season, and the Sooners should be proud of their accomplishments in winning their third straight Big 12 title.

In related news, I have instructed the Voodoo wing of Pug Life Ministries to construct a doll of the mutant Tim Tebow for possible use next year. It is not that I have anything against the Florida quarterback personally; I simply cannot bear to listen to another announcer fawn over him.

"Five minutes with Tim Tebow, and your life is forever
changed for the better."

"He is unquestionably the greatest leader in the
country."

"He has traveled abroad on mission trips, living in
orphanages and a leper colony. Many children are named after Tebow in the
Philippines."

It was as if they were talking in those silly Chuck Norris slogans. Or about me.

A prayer for the Sooners

Oh great, merciful Allah, we know that you are a busy deity and cannot always follow your favorite football team. But we pray that you will find the time tonight to watch over the almighty Sooners as they pursue their eighth national championship. We pray that you will empower your favorite offense as it rains down touchdowns on the Florida Gators. We pray that you will help coach Bob Stoops, peace be upon him, hoist another BCS championship trophy over his head. And we pray that you will protect the players on both sides from injuries. (Though a minor, 24-hour injury to scratch Gators quarterback Tim Tebow from the lineup -- perhaps a hangnail -- would be acceptable and even, God willing, appreciated.)

In Allah's name we pray, amen.

New Year's Eve: It's 2009!

The tennis ball has just dropped, and Wendell is going wild! Happy New Year! Peace and belly rubs be upon you, my flock. May Allah bless you all in 2009, and may the family of the Jonas Brothers not sue the ministry.

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."