Everything is just ducky

OK, I had a premonition that something bad was going to happen before the year ended, but it looks like we're almost in the clear. Everything seems calm and quiet around the ministry, so I guess I was just being a worrywart. Sorry if I alarmed anyone. Happy New Year, everybody. May 2007 bring the return of a newly sober Ayatollah Mugsy.
- Mallard

Still no word from the ayatollah

Hey everybody, it's Mallard again. I haven't been able to get ahold of Ayatollah Mugsy in over a week. I even fired up the searchlight in our back yard to try to contact his alleged alter-ego, but he never called. I heard a rumor that Mugsy's roommate at the rehab facility is Tawny Kitaen. That must be very traumatic for him, so I don't want to put any unnecessary stress on him. Those panty-addiction demons can be tough to defeat -- or so I've heard -- and the ayatollah needs to take his time and get well.

But I'm really starting to get worried. I can't quite put my feather on it, but something just isn't right here at the ministry. I know, I know -- I could just be reacting to the void left in my life by the absence of my mentor and spiritual adviser. I'm sure you're all going through the same thing. But I think it's more than that. Maybe it's my avian intuition, or maybe I'm just being a Chicken Little, but I have a feeling that something bad is going to happen in the next few days. Something very bad.

Odd happenings

Mugsy, if you read this, please call me on the hotline ASAP. Something strange is going on at the ministry.
- Mallard

Tabloid trash

This is Mallard, coming to you with great reluctance. But I am the ayatollah's servant, so I will do as he says. Mugsy sent me a telegram informing me that he has reached Step 5 in his 12-step recovery program. "Admit to God, to ourselves and to another the exact nature of our wrongs." And so rather than have the ministry try to cover this up, as we would normally do, he has asked me to post an image of this tabloid trash. It nearly breaks my heart to see the ayatollah so viciously maligned. I mean, these photos are clearly taken out of context. That stupid feline paparazzi; I knew we should have waterboarded him for the sake of national security.

But the ayatollah says to post it, so I'll post it. Oh, Mugsy, please come back soon.

Details emerge

Mallard here. I've been going back and forth over whether to post this. I can't get ahold of the ayatollah to get his approval. But I figure he'd be OK with it; he did give me his Blogger password. I know I'm interested in hearing all the info I can on his condition, so I figure you would be, too. So here's this story I found:

DALLAS -- (NYT) The canine religious community was reeling Friday after news broke that Ayatollah Mugsy, the charismatic leader of Pug Life Ministries, had checked into an undisclosed rehab facility.

In a post on his blog, The Ayatollah's Teachings, the pug icon wrote that he was seeking treatment for substance abuse.

According to a source within the ministry, the substance in question is women's undergarments.

"Mugsy's wrestled in the past with these demons," said the source, who asked to remain anonymous. "Before he found Allah, he was a well-known pantyhound. He even did time in the pound because of it."

The ayatollah chronicled his battle with underwear chewing in his official autobiography. In Chapter IV, he wrote about his harrowing descent into addiction, describing himself as "a junkie, pure and simple." The cleric, formerly a platinum-selling recording star, said his fame gave him unfettered access to undergarments. "I was like a slightly less wrinkly Tom Jones," he wrote. "Every night, women would fling their panties onto the stage."

In Chapters V and VI, Mugsy detailed how his addiction led him to commit large-scale panty larceny during a Mary Kay Cosmetics convention in Dallas. He was convicted and served time for the offense.

Representatives of Mary Kay declined to comment.

A mailing from Victoria's Secret offering a free pair of panties may have contributed to the mullah's relapse, quacked another source at the ministry, on the condition of anonymity.

"I guess he had been under a lot of stress anyway, as the spiritual adviser to millions. Well, then he saw that postcard, and he just snapped," the source said. "The next thing I knew, he was burrowing through the laundry pile, salivating, wildly looking for something to chew."

Other celebrities who have battled undergarment addiction include Robin Williams, James Carville and Dr. Laura.

Rosie outlook

This is Mallard again. The ayatollah sent me a telegram from rehab and asked me to post the following statement for him:

As a Chinese pug, I urge my fellow Asian-Americans to forgive Rosie O'Donnell for her recent comments. Though her attempt at humor may have missed the mark, I do not believe she meant any disrespect.

Mugsy also mentioned contacting Ms. O'Donnell to see if she'd be interested in joining his harem. I'm really starting to worry about him ...

Mugsy enters rehab

This is Mallard, the ayatollah's aide-de-camp. Mugsy is going to be away from his blogging station for a while, but he asked me to post a statement. He said it was important that you hear the news here first. Here is Mugsy's statement:

On Thursday evening, I entered a rehab facility for treatment of substance abuse. Leading the world's largest interfaith, interspecies ministry is a gargantuan task, and in recent months I have been under a tremendous amount of stress. Over the last few days, I reached something of a breaking point. I was pushed over the edge by my negative blog review on Frogmyblog.com and a trip to Wal-Mart in which I went to the "Speedy, 10 Items or Less Lane" and had to wait while the woman in front of me bought 45 stuffed animals. In my distressed state, not even my imported Italian Biscroks could console me. So I sought solace in my addictions. I hope that you will be patient as I work through these issues of substance abuse. Only by overcoming my weaknesses can I prove myself worthy of the mantle of leadership.

You win some, you lose some

After appealing for your ballot-stuffing help a couple of weeks ago, I have been remiss in not officially announcing the results of Dogmark's Cool Dog of the Month contest. Thanks to your help and the guiding paw of almighty Allah, we have triumphed. To those of you who voted: Thank you for your support. This win nearly restored my faith in democracy.*

* Though I do still think it would be best for Pugistan to be a theocratic dictatorship.

Although this blog was victorious in the Dogmark contest, it did not fare so well in another arena. A few months ago, I submitted The Ayatollah's Teachings for review by Frogmyblog.com. It has come to my attention that the review is in, and it is not pretty. As you will see, the teacher (that would be me) received a failing grade. My biggest sin? Lack of originality.

According to the reviewer, I am just the latest pug to jump into the "pet blogging fad." And all this time, I thought human blogging was a bigger trend. This negative review has wounded me to my very core. Can I continue? Can I go on teaching, knowing that I am an "F" student? Frankly, I do not know. I will have to pray on it.

To read the source of my immense angst and shame, click here.

My brother

Good day to you, beloved zealots of Pug Life. I hope that Allah has been smiling upon you. He was surely smiling upon me a few days ago when he blessed me with a new brother, if only for a few hours. Let me now tell you the story. I had just emerged from my monthly bath, so naturally I wanted nothing more than to run wild circles in the back yard and rub my newly clean fur in the leaves. I was doing just that, working off my pent-up bathtime energy, when I heard a faint yap. Across the street stood a tiny white dog, his fur matted and slightly dirty. I halted my whirling-dervish routine and went with my parents to check on this little fellow. It only took a biscuit to lure him to us, and we soon found that he was wearing no collar, no tag.

My mother took this poor street dog inside the ayatollah compound while my father and I looked around for a human caretaker. We saw only a band of roving street urchins, who promptly ran when they spotted us. Using my highly trained sniffing skills, I tracked them to their back yard, just up the creek from our house. We interrogated the urchins and found that they had no knowledge of the canine's home, although they did say they had seen him out wandering the day before. After warning the little scamps not to disturb my neighborhood markings or seek to outdo them, I brought my father back to the house to check on the young fellow. Upon closer inspection, we determined that he was, in fact, a he. And a maltese, as well, we suspected. He was eager to eat and drink, and so being a charitable ministry, we obliged him.

My mother went out to see if she could find any signs posted related to this maltese, while I began to speak to him to try to find some answers. At first, he appeared a bit scared. Although I am no large dog, I positively dwarfed him. And he was no doubt intimidated by my commanding presence. But he soon warmed to me, and we took turns chasing each other in the back yard. Afterward, we went back inside to study the Quran.

My mother's search for the rightful caretaker bore no fruit, and we began to think that this charming pup might need a new home. I contemplated this -- was I ready to have a brother? Was I willing to share my rawhide? I believe the answer was yes on both counts. "You will need a name," I told my new brother, whose language skills were not as developed as mine. "I think we will call you Caligula -- Cal, for short."

Well, to make a long story no longer than it needs to be, Cal did not become my permanent roommate. My parents found his caretakers later that evening, in a house not far from my own. But Cal, if you are reading this, know that you will always be my brother.

Travel blog updated

I have updated my travel blog with photos from my recent trip to Rome, and I invite you to take a break from your rigorous religious instruction and have a look. Click here to visit The Ayatollah's Travels.

Tabloid disaster averted

After hours of intense interrogation, my security forces have determined that the feline interloper was a paparazzi photographer who was staking out my compound. The Revolutionary Guard confiscated and destroyed his digital camera, which included several ... shall we say, undignified shots of me exiting Paris Hilton's car. Thank Allah, they will never see the light of day.

Security breach

As I have detailed before, a feline intruder has been hanging around the ayatollah compound. I often see him conducting surveillance from the street, and sometimes he even ventures into my yard. When he realizes he has been sighted, he flees. This has been an ongoing security concern for the ministry. Although we have nothing against cats, per se, this lurking fellow is quite clearly up to no good. So I have some excellent news to report: We have found the secret lair of this feline interloper.


During a routine patrol, my elite Revolutionary Guard security detail found him in this hidden bunker, beneath the curb beside my property. Unfortunately, the Guardsmen are all bulldogs and are thus too rotund to fit into the spider hole. We have called in a special team of dachshund spelunkers to investigate these catacombs and determine the extent of the security breach. God willing, we will smoke this feline out of his hole before sundown.

Better late than never

As promised, here is your long-overdue reminder to vote early and often for The Ayatollah's Teachings as Dogmark's "Cool Dog Site of the Month." With November nearly over, little time remains to stuff the ballot box. But perhaps, God willing, we can still pull this off. A win might help steer additional traffic to this blog, allowing me to reach the hearts and wallets of a new generation of Pug Lifers.

I am not above political patronage, and your loyalty may very well pay off with a plum appointment in the Pugistan government.

CLICK HERE to view the ballot.

Lacking book smarts

I ventured out to my city's new library today. The impressive building, open only a few months, is a vast improvement over the tiny facility it replaced. Though it does not quite rival this blog as a repository of knowledge, the city library is impressive nonetheless, and I stop by two or three times a month to enjoy the resplendent fruits of my tax dollars at work. But this was no ordinary trip to the library. As I neared the great reading room, normally a peaceful place, I heard a booming voice. A man was talking loudly on his cell phone. I moved forward in dismay and disbelief to survey the room's nonfiction wares. And as I looked, he yapped. On and on it went, an entire conversation for all the reading public to hear. My tail quickly lost its curl.

Now I ask you this, my alarmed flock: Who among us did not learn as a child or puppy or other youthful being that the library is meant to be a quiet place? How can one be so lacking in couth as to defy this most basic of tenets? Was this man raised by wolves? Such an assumption would hardly seem fair, for I have yet to find a lupine creature so lacking in manners.

Certainly we can overlook the occasional vocal indiscretions of a child, who may not know any better. But a grown man? Clearly, this infidel was openly defying the proper social order -- not to mention the fatwa I delivered at the 2004 Canine Clerics Convention in Damascus. So lest anyone witness such behavior and think it the norm, let me reiterate that fatwa for you now: It is absolutely forbidden to make undue noise at a public library. If you must speak, speak in a quiet voice, a whisper even --- as you were no doubt taught in grade school. And unless it is an emergency, take the cell phone calls outside. This deplorable behavior must not be tolerated, and so long as I am supreme ayatollah of Pug Life Ministries, it will not be.

Do not make me issue a fatwa ...

I am watching "The National Dog Show" on NBC, and frankly, I am appalled. Several of the human contestants are picking up their dogs by the tail and leash (ie, the throat). This is no way to pick up a canine. I expect to see some proper support given for these worthy contestants. Get a hand under the body -- there are more important things in life than maintaining those ridiculous fur-dos.

Happy Thanksgiving

On this Thanksgiving Day, it is time to reflect on some of the blessings of the last year. Though there have been trying times, I am still one fortunate pug.

• I am thankful for my rugged good looks and chiseled physique, which allow me to be undeniably masculine even in a duck suit.
• I am thankful for the ever-growing congregation of Pug Life Ministries. You, my dear readers, are the wind beneath my duckling wings.
• I am thankful for Pug Life's research into enriched rawhide, which promises a brighter tomorrow for canines everywhere.
• I am thankful that the ministry's IRS troubles have, for the time being, been put behind us.
• I am thankful for my wily accountant, formerly of Arthur Andersen.
• I am thankful that my mother cleans the sludge from my eyes. Without her, I would never know its exquisite taste.
• I am thankful for Borat, for inspiring me on my recent vacation to proclaim, "I will not move to a smaller room!" every time I entered the hotel elevator.
  
• I am thankful for Bob Stoops.
• I am thankful for my online gift shop, whose high-quality, sweat-shop-produced merchandise is set to become the must-have stocking-stuffer item of this holiday season.
• I am thankful for my boundless albeit irrational optimism.

On U.S. soil again

I am back in Texas, having returned last night weary but satisfied after a wonderful vacation. Rome did not disappoint, and neither did baby Suri, whom I had the pleasure of dining with at the wedding of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. While there, I met with some Scientology representatives to discuss the establishment of a Pug Life Scientology center. It seems to hold some profit potential, but nothing has been worked out. I remain leery of the religion after seeing what it did to Eddie from "Frasier." He was just never the same after he started his auditing sessions.

I found Rome to be a delightful city. Its rich history is on display at every turn, which prompted me to take several hundred photos. I will try to post a few on my travel blog when I get a chance.

My good friend Pope Pius Pug was a gracious tour host, shuttling me to several sites in the popemobile. Some of my favorite places were the Pantheon; the ruins of the Forum, the Palatine Hill, Ostia Antica and the Colosseum; St. Peter's Basilica; and the Sistine Chapel. And, of course, there was the previously mentioned Santa Maria della Concezione, where I witnessed the mouth-watering sight of thousands of human bones turned into decorative objects. In an apparent (and successful) bid to sell postcards, the church was adamantly opposed to anyone taking photos inside its crypt. But I did find some photos online to share with you. Truly, I believe it is the oddest place I have ever been.

The pope and I also discussed some major plans for Pug Life Ministries and the Dogloo compound, some of which I will share with you in the coming days. I am grateful to Pope Pius Pug for taking time out of his busy schedule to show me around and ensure that I was well fed with pizza, pasta and gelato. I know that his schedule was also occupied with investigating a possible miracle involving the image of Jesus and the hindquarters of a terrier mix, so his hospitality was much appreciated.

When in Rome ...

I am typing this as I wait for the maids to finish cleaning my hotel room. I pray that the rawhide residue will not prove too difficult to remove from the sheets. I have seen all kinds of wondrous sights in Rome, so many that I am contemplating moving the ministry. Is it possible to get by in Rome when all you know how to say is "gratzie"? It appears so.

I visited a church that uses the bones of more than 4,000 Capuchin monks for decorations. Pieces of bone cover the walls and ceilings in ornate patterns. Even the chandeliers are made of bones. I briefly contemplated incorporating something similar into the Dogloo Cathedral, but the pope made a good argument to the contrary: The parishioners might chew up all of our decorations.

Those germ-riddled humans

At last, I am back at my blogging station. My father has been sick for the last week, so I have been occupied with nursing him back to health, showing him how to get the most out of 18 hours a day in bed. I have elevated such rest-taking to an art form. A couple of days ago, my father managed to pass his germs along to my mother, so I then began to show her the ways of healing rest. It reminded me of a question I was once asked at the mosque. "Mugsy," a young follower barked to me, "why is it that the humans pass germs to each other, but we pugs never succumb to their illnesses. Is this because we are created in God's image, a more highly evolved species?" In a word, yes. But I believe there is more to it than this. For years, I have encouraged my parents to eat a nutrient-rich diet like mine. I have repeatedly offered to share my rawhide with them, even pushing it toward their unwilling mouths. Yet they always decline. Rawhide is nature's great protector, and I urge all humans to try it. It has worked for Dr. Phil, peace be upon him.

But though my parents do not partake in that most heavenly of treats, they are now on the mend. A combination of antibiotics and my healing saliva -- which I have liberally applied to their toes -- has them regaining some energy. And it is just in time, for we are to leave for Rome on Saturday. As I told my parents yesterday: Shape up, or I will ship out without you.

Trendsetter

Once again, celebrities have taken a cue from yours truly. As you can see in this photo, Kate Hudson appears to be conducting research on feral children.

My favorite holiday

Our long drive finally over, I bounded out of the car. We had arrived at the social event of the year: Pug-O-Ween. I quickly donned my Pugly Duckling costume in the parking lot, and we made our way into the Elzie Odom Recreation Center. Inside, I was greeted by a glorious sight, a veritable feast for my oversized eyes. For the first time since my last Hajj trip to Mecca, I felt as if I was home. I barked a silent prayer of thanks to Allah.

I was accompanied by my parents and a pair of relatives from out of town. My grandmother and great-grandmother made the trip to take in this spectacle, as much an auditory experience as a visual one. A symphony of snorting and grunting filled the gymnasium, which must have held at least 200 costumed pugs. I quickly went to work, sniffing out prospective congregants and donors for the ministry. Pug-O-Ween is the only place in Dallas-Fort Worth -- at least until the Dogloo compound is completed -- where one can find such a grand concentration of pugs.

The costumes this year were outstanding. My personal favorite was the Bride of Puggenstein, but the Herbie the Love Pug and I Dream of Jeannie costumes were excellent as well. (All three are pictured above.) The doggle-wearing bodybuilder was also most impressive. And for the second year in a row, I was smitten with a hula dancer. There is just something about those grass skirts. I chose not to enter any of the costume contests this year, to give my pug brothers and sisters a chance. I am nothing if not benevolent.


PUG LIFER SIGHTING

Among the scores of attendees at this worthy fundraiser was Eagle, Pug Lifer and blogger extraordinaire. We chatted briefly.

"Mugsy," he said, "I have heard that rawhide is the opiate of the masses. Is this true?"

"Yes," I replied. "Let us go find some."

Gone in a flash

I am worried about Gordon, the gecko friend I met early this month. For a while, he was a regular at the ayatollah compound -- either on the garage wall or on the outside of the garage door. I got to know Gordon, becoming his spiritual adviser. He was an eager student, and I bought him a tiny Quran to aid his studies. He began to talk about running away to Yemen to enroll in a madrassa, as I had done years earlier. "But Gordon," I said, "it is very hot there. Even hotter than Texas. I do not know if the Yemeni climate is suited to a Mediterranean gecko such as yourself." That was two weeks ago, and I have not seen him since. If anyone has any information on Gordon's whereabouts, please let me know. I pray for his safety.

Mega-dittos (whatever that means)

A recent story caught my eye. A broadcaster, who over the last two decades has built a media empire that nearly rivals my own, said something that was hard to believe. He criticized a man with Parkinson's disease for shaking. And not just any man; this was Michael J. Fox. The lovable Alex P. Keaton, Marty McFly. This statement was so outlandish -- and the ensuing "apology" so insincere -- that I had to investigate. The Armed Revolutionary Forces' intelligence wing pored over reams of data, analyzing facial movements, voice inflections, radio hiss. The ARF operatives then gave me a thorough presentation of their findings. And now, I am ready to release the results of this analysis.

No man -- regardless of how many illegal pain pills he was high on -- could be doltish enough to call Michael J. Fox "shameless" for displaying the symptoms of a disease he was diagnosed with 15 years ago. Rush Limbaugh must have been faking.

Wild child

I have been watching a fascinating documentary about feral children that I recorded from the Discovery Channel. It details the stories of several children who were raised by animals. I think I find this so interesting because I am a pug who has been raised by humans. In a sense, it is almost the same thing. So I have been doing some research to try to find an instance of a child being raised by pugs. I suspect that such a child would be, in many ways, more advanced than a typical human child. But so far, I have not found any such cases. I have been perusing this database, however, so I may yet stumble upon an instance of pug-raised children.

In the meantime, this documentary has set my normally subdued imagination into overdrive. I have many experiments that I wish to conduct on the feral-child phenomenon. Perhaps, God willing, I will try some of them out at the next meeting of the Ayatollah Mugsy Scouts.

Monumental find

EULESS, Texas (AP) -- Pilgrims from around the world descended upon a Texas park Monday to see what they believe is a sacred object -- a potato chip bearing the likeness of a canine religious leader.

Debbie Wilson, who discovered the chip, says it features an unmistakable image of Ayatollah Mugsy, her spiritual leader and the head of Pug Life Ministries.

"I was having a picnic Saturday," Wilson said, "and a chip fell out of my bag and onto my blanket. I looked down, and a ray of sunshine was illuminating that perfect image. It is so clearly the ayatollah. This is a sign from God; I just know it is."

Reluctant to move the chip, Wilson hired a security firm to watch it 24 hours a day.

Word spread quickly via Internet message boards, and by Sunday afternoon, the park was crowded with people and their pets clamoring to view the potato chip.

Euless police have been working overtime to manage the crowds and ensure the safety of the chip, whose brand name has not been revealed.

"This is a priceless item," said Euless Police Chief George Croft. "Imagine how they must have felt when they found the Dead Sea scrolls, or the Shroud of Turin. Then multiply that by a billion. I won't let any harm come to this chip. It will sit in that park until the ayatollah tells me to move it."

Ayatollah Mugsy declined to comment for this story, but a spokesman said the ministry was preparing to take control of the chip.

"This is an important artifact that seems to possess a message from Allah," said the spokesman, who asked to remain anonymous. "Mugsy wants it preserved for future generations to see, so I expect that it will be housed in a wing of the planned Dogloo Mosque -- unless GoldenPalace.com makes a suitable offer."

What bubble?

I apologize for the recent dearth of posts, my anxious flock. I have been working a lot of overtime at the mosque lately. This is good for the puggy bank, but not so good for the blog. You see, I am trying to save enough money to do some real estate investing.

Something fishy

At last the sun had gone down, bringing an end to the day's long, torturous fast. My mother and I went to a local Italian restaurant to celebrate. We go there occasionally, in spite of the fact that the big sign outside misspells "pizzeria." Once inside, we took our seats by the window and ordered a large pizza and some soft drinks. When my drink arrived, I noticed something unusual poking above the rim of the glass. Something that did not belong. I carefully fished out this piece of plastic, about an inch across. It was half black, half dirty-transparent. Thus began an inner dialogue in my well-wrinkled head.

"It is probably just a piece from an ice bag," one voice said. "It touches the ice anyway."

"Silence, fool!" my other voice boomed. "Only the inside of the bag would normally touch the ice. The outside is rolling around in the back of filthy trucks, being crawled upon by ungodly vermin and cockroaches. It is handled by countless grubby human hands before the ice reaches its destination. And now, that disgusting piece of plastic has contaminated your drink. Typhoid is probably just around the corner."

My other voice did not have a rebuttal. Just then, the waiter brought a fresh drink for my mother, who unlike me had been sipping her soda. I glanced down to see that the piece of plastic was no longer where I had left it on the corner of the table.

"What happened to that plastic?" I barked to my mother.

"Oh, I moved it," she said.

"Where did you put it?"

"I ... I don't know," she said nervously.

I gave her a long look. "You ate it, didn't you?" I queried. This she denied. "All right," I barked. "Where did you put it?"

She made a show of briefly fumbling through her pockets. "Oh, I don't know what I did with it," she said dismissively.

"I was thinking of asking the waiter for another drink," I said. "But you have apparently eaten the evidence."

"I did not," she said, averting her eyes.

The moral of the story is this, my flock: If you ever dine with my mother, watch her like a hawk.

Who can resist?

As a public service -- and to help perpetuate the canine race -- the ministry brings you this flier, originally posted at a California dog park. Click here for further details.

I humbly accept

I am honored to announce that The Ayatollah's Teachings has been named "Cool Dog Site of the Day" by Dogmark.net. I am very grateful for this honor, which is made all the more impressive by the fact that this is not a leap year. Yes, only 365 of the world's billions upon billions of Web sites will earn this distinction for 2006. I am humbled, even more so than usual.

This honor means we are eligible for the "Cool Dog Site of the Month" award as well, but voting for the October winner will not begin until next month. Don't worry; I will remind you to vote early and often. In the meantime, I endorse ARF Supreme Commander Brody the Bulldog as a worthy September champion.

Click here to visit Dogmark's "Cool Dog Site of the Day" page, where you can also see a list of previous winners and vote for monthly winners.

Thank you, Dogmark officials. May Allah ensure that your bellies are well-rubbed today, and may the sweet taste of rawhide never leave your mouths.

Put the pug down, and back away ...

Some of you may have already seen these disturbing photos. Fear not, my concerned flock. A rescue mission is in the works.