Mmmmmm ...

I sampled my first Swedish meatball from IKEA today. Who knew that food from a furniture store could be so tasty?

Driving Miss Doofus

As you know, I am an ardent proponent of expanded rights for canines. But that does not mean I would suggest letting the family dog drive the car.

The Exorcism of Bella Rose: Part II

The first part of this true story is in the post directly below this one.

After her violent outburst, Bella collapsed on the bed. It seemed the demon had granted her a momentary reprieve. I put my ear on Pope Pius Pug's chest to check for vital signs, but I heard no pulse. The leader of the world's 1 billion Catholic canines was teetering on the brink -- or perhaps he had already passed the point of no return. "Noooooooo!" I cried. The pontiff was too beloved, too brilliant, too incredibly good-looking to pass away now. I knew that there was only one hope to bring him back. Though I had never performed the laying on of tongues ritual on a dog, it was the pope's only chance for survival.

I pulled up his papal garb and began to vigorously lick his belly button, forever putting to rest the myth that canines have no navel. I paused to check for signs of life, but his tail remained eerily uncurled. "Come on, pope," I exclaimed. "Fight!" I went back to licking, while at the same time praying for the pontiff's recovery. Just then, a glass mosaic went whizzing by my head and crashed into the dresser, exploding in a cloud of tiny shards. I glanced up to see Bella standing on two legs atop the bed's headboard. The lights began to flicker as Bella seemingly gave off some sort of electromagnetic field. She grabbed another mosaic and flung it at me. I twirled around the pope's motionless body, my tongue never breaking stride. This dangerous dance continued for what seemed like an eternity. I channeled my healing power toward the pope while dodging Bella's barrage of lamps, mosaics and other knick-knacks. In one instant, I had to pull the pope aside to keep one of Bella's glassy projectiles from striking him. As I shoved the pope under the bed for safety, I took a deep breath and delivered one giant lick. I felt a shudder, then a heave. The pope began to wheeze. I pressed on, narrowly dodging a picture frame that ricocheted off the wall. The pope began to snort with renewed strength. "Mugsy ....," he said. I put my paw over his mouth. "Save your energy, my friend," I barked, motioning for the humans to take the pope out of the danger zone. "Get this pug a biscuit, stat!" I commanded. "He needs his strength." As the door closed, I knew that the final showdown was at hand.

I leaped onto the bed and caught Bella by surprise, knocking her down. She turned, putting her rear in my face in the famed Chihuahua fighting technique before wheeling and snapping at me with her razor-sharp fangs. I bobbed and weaved like a boxer, the pugilistic skills honed in my puppyhood taking over. As she spun and lashed out at me again, I saw an opening. My paws came crashing down on Bella's back, pinning her to the bed. I held her down with one paw while holding up my sacred bone-shaped amulet with the other. I began to recite a prayer, causing Bella to squeal in agony. Though it pained me to see a canine suffer so, I did not let up. For hour upon hour, I barked the word of Allah. At times she would slip free from my grasp, but never for long. I grabbed her by the tail and flung her back to the center of the bed, where I continued the ancient exorcism ritual. Finally, her mouth opened wide. And what I saw next would forever be etched upon my mind.

It began as a lump in her throat, as if her Adam's apple had become an Adam's melon. With tremendous force, the demon erupted from her mouth. This agent of the devil was a luminescent green, with wide eyes and an incessant, taunting squeak. It lunged at me, and I batted it out of the sky and onto the floor. With reckless abandon, I sent my body hurtling after the demon. I rolled it toward the corner with my spare snout, trapping the demon against the wall. Then my teeth clamped down, puncturing the demon's squeaker in one mighty blow. With a hiss of rushing air, the demon cried out in pain and went hurtling from my mouth. It hovered for a split-second before rocketing through the ceiling, leaving a small hole in the sheetrock. A hint of daylight poured in and illuminated Bella's sleeping body. The poor dog was exhausted. I put my paw on her forehead. "At last, Bella, you have found peace," I barked. And I curled up by her side for a much-needed nap.

The exorcism of Bella Rose was not an easy thing. It was neither quick nor pleasant. What I have witnessed over the last 104 hours will no doubt be etched into my memory for the rest of my days. But as I have explained before, it had to be done. This is the story of the fight for Bella's soul.

All else had failed: The jail time. The counseling sessions. The puppy classes at PetSmart. It became apparent to me that this Chihuahua's actions were not her own. They were, instead, the work of a powerful demon that had burrowed its way into her soul. This former nun -- once known for her piety -- had become evil incarnate. I began to study the Quran and the ancient Hadiths, seeking guidance. Exorcisms, though rare, have long been a part of the Islamic faith. But I would not go it alone. As I alluded to in an earlier post, my good friend Pope Pius Pug left his gold-encrusted Dogloo at the Vatican and jetted to Dallas to lead this most important ritual. Upon his arrival, we locked ourselves in my study to prepare. We melded the best Muslim and Catholic demon-fighting techniques. We discussed strategy. We prayed for hours upon end. And, given the inherent danger of our mission, we made out our wills.

Finally, the day of the exorcism had arrived. We sat in silence during our long trip up Interstate 35, not even barking at passing motorcyclists. We arrived at Bella's holding cell in the dead of night and went immediately to work. I instructed the humans to take 10 bowls of holy water into her bedroom. The pope and I entered and locked the door. There was no turning back.

"Well, well," she barked, her head rotating slowly. "Look who's here."

Bella then let loose a string of vile expletives unfit for publication in a family blog such as this. Even worse, she unleashed her ear-shatteringly high-pitched bark. I was able to overcome the initial shock of this aural assault, and I ordered the humans to pin Bella to the bed. Though sliced by her razor-sharp claws, they complied. The pope then took his position at the foot of the bed and began to recite an incantation. I splashed holy water from my drinking bowl onto Bella's flesh, which sizzled upon contact. The stench was overwhelming. Then, without warning, she threw off her human handlers and lunged at the pope. Her venomous teeth flashed as she growled in an ancient, long-dead tongue. The pope bore the full brunt of her savage attack and stumbled backward. He slumped to the floor, his tail coming completely uncurled.

I shoved Bella back toward the bed and rushed to the pontiff's side. Pope Pius Pug was no longer breathing.

To be continued

Pug in a rug

Some senior citizens let dementia get them down. But not this woman. She's spending her golden years outfitting dogs in hairpieces. Ruth Regina is out to start a new fashion trend while simultaneously improving the self-confidence of canines everywhere. As she says, "Dogs are just little people in fur coats." Click here to read her story (and to see a bulldog blond bombshell).

Tag -- I'm it

My faithful congregation, I have been tagged. Tara Roswitha, Pippin, Bam-Bam and Thomas Peterson have all bestowed upon me the tag of duty. And I will honor this duty to share five "weird" things about myself. But let us instead call them "quirky," for there is nothing weird about a pug ayatollah.

1. Whenever I spot an exposed belly button, I lick it. Vigorously. For hours, if the humans would let me. My parents have even used this trait against me. When I mischievously run outside and refuse to come back in, my mother has been known to drop to the floor and expose her bare midriff to lure me back to the house. I cannot resist. Why do I do this? Because it is the best way to impart my mystical healing powers upon the humans.

2. I am a reformed ex-convict. I was incarcerated for my role in The Great Panty Raid, and it was in the pound that I found Allah. For further details, please see my biography in the right-hand rail.

3. I do not like to ride roller coasters. This is OK, however, because I am not tall enough to ride.

4. I have my own online store, where I attempt to sell Ayatollah Mugsy and Got Rawhide? products, among others. I pray that I will sell enough to cover my $5-a-month investment.

5. I introduced my parents to the majestic breed known as the pug. Before they adopted me, they did thorough research to try to find the right kind of dog to keep in the cramped apartment they shared at the time. When they saw an ad in the classifieds, they decided they would go take a look at this funny-looking breed of dog in Wylie, Texas. They had no intention of taking a puppy home that day. But that was before they met me, a tiny bundle of snorts and nonstop licking. Guess who called shotgun on the ride home.

Now, it is time for me to dole out tags. In no particular order, I choose:

Tyler
Anonymous Midwest Girl and her puppy
JMG and her furry children
Francois Fertig
Eagle

Security gone wild

I have just received a call from a fuming Pope Pius Pug. It seems that the security screeners at Fiumicino Airport in Rome won't let my good friend board with his Hartz Groomer's Plus Puppy Shampoo. What a pity. The Catholic masses deserve to see their leader with his coat at its shiniest.

Pint-sized powder keg

Some of you may have heard about a little "incident" that occurred last night. Rather than let the innuendo swirl, I would like to set the record straight. Yes, Bella the Chihuahua escaped from her holding cell briefly. And yes, there was a rather grisly attack. She savagely assaulted a neighbor, who required a medium-sized Band-aid on his ankle. Thank Allah, he is a supporter of Pug Life Ministries and agreed not to press charges.

It has become apparent that Bella cannot be rehabilitated through conventional means. But something must be done. This cannot continue. Her violent acts besmirch the reputation of all canines -- except in the instances in which she is mistaken for a rodent. In any case, I am formulating a plan. God willing, I will purge these violent tendencies from Bella -- or die trying.

My genius prevails

My mother tried to stump me tonight with a scavenger hunt. She hid dog biscuits around the living room for me to find. She thought she was being really sneaky, too. She must have been rather disappointed when I made quick work of her little mental exercise. Come on, mother. I memorized the Quran in a single sitting. I can certainly sniff out a few biscuits. But don't let that dissuade you from trying again.

Not so neighborly

I went for a walk last night, as I often do after the sun's tyranny has faded for the day. At the end of the block, I encountered a familiar bark. It was a rival cleric. And this was no friendly bark. No, this was a verbal assault. He pounded frantically on his wooden fence. "Go away!" he barked. "Go away!" I snorted back, trying to calm him down, and sniffed at the fence. Again, his vicious bark rang out. "Begone, heretic pug! You and your followers are not welcome here!" Though I am known for my easygoing ways, I do not take kindly to being called a heretic. So I quickly hatched a plan. Just then, I felt the light tug of the leash on my collar. "Wait," I implored my parents. "I have a present for this infidel." Smiling mischievously, I slowly circled and sidled right up to the fence. "This will teach him," I thought.

Unfortunately, my mother foiled my plot with her plastic grocery bag.

Activist ayatollah

To be an effective ayatollah, one must know when to take a stand. On Saturday, I protested an injustice.

Not to be left out ...

Let it be noted that I have seen Suri Cruise. She is the single most beautiful child to ever crawl this Earth. Allah must have spent weeks sculpting her stunning features and perfectly shaped head. At only 3 months old, she possesses the most enchanting, alluring eyes known to man or pug. Wherever she goes, the storm clouds part, and an aura of pure white glows above her silky hair. She needs no diaper, for she was born fully potty-trained. And she never cries; instead, she sings. Her angelic voice is like no other, and it is always accompanied by an unseen harp. Yes, friends, I have seen little Suri, with a fringe on top.

Bad news, good news

That unmistakable sound is back. Only three weeks after our last national tragedy, my refrigerator is dying -- again. It starts with a click, then a grating hum, worse than claws on a chalkboard. And now the packages in the freezer are beginning to go soft. I pray that the warranty on the previous $215 repair will cover the costs.

In happier news, I have rediscovered my tennis ball. How did I go so long without you, Wilson?

Unwelcome visitor

I have recently noticed a cat snooping around my house. I often spot him walking along the perimeter of the yard, trying to get a look inside the ayatollah compound. When I approach this feline interloper, he runs away, sometimes vanishing into the series of catacombs that run beneath the street. Naturally, I am not going to risk my safety and sully my turban to pursue him in his subterranean lair. Is he a foreign agent? A saboteur? An overzealous telemarketer? I do not yet know. But he is clearly up to no good. At my direction, the Pug Life staff has created this sketch. Memorize his features, and be on the lookout. The security of the ministry depends on your eternal vigilance.

A note from Rabbi Jake

Rabbi Jake has informed me that he has canceled tonight's planned screening of the Lethal Weapon series for the youths of his synagogue.

Odd encounter

I attended a social function last night, hobnobbing with other canine clerics into the wee hours of the morning. As I returned home, about a 40-minute drive, those familiar pangs of hunger took hold. "Driver," I barked. "Let's pick up some food." So we stopped at Krystal, the best place in Dallas-Fort Worth to get tiny halaal burgers and chili cheese pups at 2:45 in the morning. The line at the drive-through was at least five cars long, so I chatted with my dates as we awaited our turn to order.

Then we heard the car in front of us honking, for no apparent reason. The man in the pickup truck in front of that car had just finished ordering, and he did not appear pleased to have been honked at. He stuck his head out the window and began to yell at the woman driving the car behind him. She leaned out her window and hollered back, motioning for the man to get out of her way. He refused. "I'm blocking you!" he yelled. "Whatcha gonna do about it, huh?" Each was trying to outdo the other in terms of belligerence. I considered exiting my vehicle to mediate this dispute, but since a Nobel Peace Prize seemed unlikely, I decided to let things play out.

Eventually, the truck moved up, and the woman in the car ordered her food. After my driver had ordered our meal, we pulled around to the side of the eatery, where the man in the pickup truck was getting his food. Again, the woman honked at him. The spiky-haired truck driver opened his door and leaned out, and the following exchange took place:

"What?!"
"What is that in your hair?!"
"It's product! Lots of product!"
"Oh, yeah?!"
"Yeah! Why don't you come up here and touch it!"
"No way!"
"Yeah, get up here and touch my product!"

God help these humans.

Bella's relapse

For months, Bella the Chihuahua has been undergoing rehabilitation exercises to cure her of her criminal tendencies. Using the Ludovico technique, we were able to make great progress. Her natural inclination to bite and growl and bare her teeth gradually faded. The Chihuahua who had terrorized the Mexican countryside was becoming a lady. But then, tragedy struck. On a recent walk around the neighborhood, Bella was attacked by a stray canine. Physically, she is fine. But this attack let loose the demons that had been suppressed deep within her soul. Bella's retaliation was swift and harsh. Her angry, incessant yelp returned -- a warning to all within earshot. At this very moment, Bella is seated on her couch, her head literally spinning on its axis in a way that Allah never intended. Pray for the former Sister Bella -- and for that poor pit bull attacker who incurred her wrath.

The puggybank beckons

It appears that my intense lobbying of Texas Gov. Rick Perry is working. On Tuesday, he spoke of tearing down the barriers that limit faith-based organizations' access to public funds. Can I sign up for direct deposit?

My kind of politician

Although Pug Life Ministries is primarily a religious movement, we also have political aims. The quest for universal canine suffrage is a key goal of Pug Life, as is the establishment of an autonomous pug homeland in the American Southwest (Pugistan). So I am always on the lookout for political candidates worthy of the Pug Life seal of approval. Until recently, I have not found any. But I am now pleased to endorse Thomas Peterson for mayor of Anoka, Minn. Although I have not had the chance to ask him about his thoughts on enforcing canine Sharia law in Anoka, it is clear that his common-sense leadership style is just what the town needs. To quote his campaign Web site, "As a French Bulldog, I feel I am suitably qualified. I know how to sit, shake hands, and, in an emergency, play dead. Additionally, I promise that I won't roll over on any issue." Good luck, Mr. Peterson. May Allah smile upon your campaign.

Mugsy weighs in on stem cell research

As a leading social conservative and firebrand religious leader, I would like to commend President Bush for his veto of expanded funding for embryonic stem cell research. In a perfectly choreographed press conference Wednesday -- complete with crying babies to punctuate his every sentence about embryos -- Bush explained his compassionate conservative reasoning thusly: "In our zeal for new treatments and cures, America must never abandon our fundamental morals." Here, here, Mr. President. We must never forget that all life is precious. And although it would be nice if science could prevent my father from succumbing to the diabetes that took his grandfather's life last year or the Alzheimer's disease that now torments his grandmother, we must always remember just how precious life is. Besides, science is in many ways the enemy of theocracy. Though many scientists believe that embryonic stem cell research holds the key to curing dozens of diseases and improving untold millions of lives, we must balance that knowledge against our compassion for the embryos. And rather than use the cells from these embryos to further the dubious interests of science, we must respect their rights as citizens. We must ensure that these frozen embryos continue to be tossed into trash bins -- with dignity.

A good deal, for a good cause

Have you ever wanted a custom banner for your Web page or e-mails but didn't have the requisite skills to make one? For a minimum donation of $5, you can receive a nice banner and contribute to Pug Dog Encephalitis research. PDE is a deadly, incurable disease that sometimes strikes our pug brothers and sisters, usually in adolescence. Researchers at Texas A&M University are working to learn more about the disease and find a cure. To see some of the sample banners, click here. To donate and get your own custom banner, visit Pugs.com and scroll down to the headline that says, "Mini Signature Banners Raise Funds for PDE."

Food for thought

The young campers and I have been working on logic and critical thinking skills this morning. I began by placing biscuits in Kong Balls and giving them to the hungry youths. The two puppy campers displayed greater problem-solving skills than the human children in this test, cementing their spot at the head of the class. Now, the children are trying to determine what is wrong with the normally lovely Keira Knightley on this magazine cover that has been haunting me lately at store checkout aisles.

Wedding bells

On Thursday, I officiated a cyber-wedding for a couple of my canine friends. It was a beautiful ceremony. And because I agreed to do it before my refrigerator went kaput, I waived my usual fee. The following is a transcript of the ceremony:

We are gathered here today to join Zero the Boston Terrier and Gypsy Rose the Pug in holy matrimony.

Marriage is like a chew rope, my furry friends. You must both take part, or it will not work. A canine cannot play tug-of-war without a partner. So you must always be there for one another. Zero, your rawhide will be Gypsy Rose’s rawhide. And Gypsy Rose, your dog biscuits will be Zero’s dog biscuits.

Zero, do you accept Gypsy Rose as your eternal pugbride?

And Gypsy Rose, do you accept Zero as your ever-lasting terrier hubby?

Let no man tear asunder what the ayatollah has joined today. I now pronounce you husband and wife.

You may lick the bride.

National emergency

You might want to sit down if you aren't already seated. I have some bad news to share. You see, my refrigerator is broken. Last night, I noticed that it was making odd noises. This morning, the kitchen floor was soaking wet. Everything in the freezer was melting or thawing. It would all have to be thrown away. "Leggo my Eggo, you cruel thawing grip!" I exclaimed with horror. But the waffles were gone, as was the glorious frozen chicken. The ice cream, too, was lost forever, leaving its milky residue on the hard tile floor. Naturally, I helped clean this up. In times of need, we must all pitch in -- even high-ranking ayatollahs.

Because of this national emergency, I have raised the Pug Life alert level to Red, or "really expensive." I don't even want to think about what effect this will have on my standoff with the International Atomic Energy Agency.

It's going swimmingly

The campers and I have just returned from our dog-paddling races. Because of the ungodly gasoline prices, I was forced to cancel our trip to Lake Lewisville. Instead, the children swam in the creek near my house. Aside from a minor incident with a snapping turtle, everything went well.

I have begun to see a change in the human campers. At first, they resisted my methods. I encountered much crying, many calls to go home. During our circular marathon yesterday, many of the children complained of dizziness and nausea. But I showed no sympathy. Like a drill sergeant, I demanded that they finish the 26-mile race. And now the campers are beginning to come around. Their defiance is being replaced by obedience, a desire to serve the canine race. This was all part of my plan. From the start, I knew that I had to break the youths down so that I could rebuild them in my image. God willing, we will produce the next generation of ayatollahs. Or, in the case of the human campers, the next generation of ayatollahs' servants.

Wakeup call

The bugle call broke the morning silence at 0500 hours, rousing the children from their fitful sleep. I scratched on the guest-room door intently until one of them opened it. "Stand up," I barked. "Stand up straight!" The children jumped off of the lone bed and recliner and out of the pair of large chests of drawers I had procured as barracks. I began my inspection, sniffing each child one-by-one. When I reached a young Minnesota boy, I didn't like what I smelled. "Biscuit!" I barked. He fumbled through his pockets frantically. "Ayatollah, I ... I don't have any," he stammered, droplets of sweat forming on his brow. I commanded the youth to get down on his hands and knees so I could look him in the eye. After glaring at his nervous features, I let loose with a pair of drenching sneezes, each punctuated by a booming snort. He reached up to wipe his face. "No," I barked. "Leave it there as a reminder. Let this serve as a reminder to all of you. To be good servants of the ayatollah, you must always have dog biscuits at the ready."

Happy campers

The children and puppies arrived at noon today for the first-ever Ayatollah Mugsy's Youth Indoctrination Camp. We have 36 human children and two puppies taking part. It was supposed to be 38 children, but ARF Supreme Commander Brody the Bulldog found some red flags in the background checks of a couple of the youths. It seems they have a history of tail-pulling and treat-teasing. Naturally, these two youths have been detained indefinitely for questioning. We cannot take any chances with troublemakers.

We just wrapped up our 10-mile hike under the scorching Texas sun. (I rode alongside the children barking orders from my air-conditioned car.) Now, the youths are taking a three-hour multiple-choice exam that I prepared for them. Those who do not pass will be sent home with no refund. For proper indoctrination, the children must be physically and mentally fit. Perhaps I will post some sample questions later so that you can see how you would fare. I can already tell that this is going to be a great week of camp. Peace be upon you all.

Trouble brewing

Loyal Pug Lifer Chackler has alerted me to this shocking photo being displayed on Cute Overload. What were the humans thinking giving this pug puppy a beer? Alcohol is strictly forbidden under Islam. And as Chackler pointed out, that is doubly so for an inferior brew such as Beck's. It is written in the Quran: "The devil wants only to cast among you enmity and hatred by means of strong drink and games of chance and to turn you from remembering Allah and from prayer. Will you then desist." So if these humans want to raise their canine as a good Muslim pug, they must immediately stop serving this devilish brew.

In addition to endangering their puppy's soul, these humans are contributing to the immense problem of underage canine drinking. It is a serious issue in this country, and such glamorization of this lifestyle only serves to make matters worse. Sure, the pug may look cute now. But just wait until he grows up to be a raging alcoholic.

Spending priorities

It appears as if the astronauts’ primary focus on their latest mission is to inspect their shuttle for catastrophic damage sustained on liftoff. And given that the outer skin of the space shuttle is more delicate than fine china, I cannot blame them. But it seems to me that the shuttle's time has passed. Surely there are better ways for the taxpayers to spend their borrowed money. Might I suggest some additional spending on faith-based initiatives -- Pug Life Ministries could always use a few extra dollars, for example. The first-ever Ayatollah Mugsy's Youth Indoctrination Camp begins this weekend, and it would be nice if we could afford to feed some of the children. Mr. Treasury Secretary, the PayPal virtual offering plate is to your right.

America's hopes slip away

Japan's Kobayashi pulls away to win it, 53 and three-fourths to 52. The contestants are now hunched over, their mouths stuffed full of hot dogs. American Joey Chestnut's upset bid just came up short. I have witnessed perhaps the greatest sporting event ever. But once Kobayashi's apparent steroid use comes to light, it is sure to be seen as a tainted win. I urge Nathan's to allow canines to enter next year's contest; then the world will see some real eating.