Gored

Another year, another disappointment. What does a pug have to do to win the Nobel Peace Prize?

Sister Bella arrested

QUANTICO, Va. (AP) -- Notorious alleged criminal mastermind Bella the Chihuahua was taken into custody after an early-morning raid in which 18 FBI agents were wounded, authorities said Thursday.

The Chihuahua, wanted in a series of felonies in Mexico, is being held in a maximum-security cell while officials decide whether to extradite her or try her in the U.S. legal system.

"It's tricky," said FBI Senior Agent Mike Grammel. "By all witness accounts, this little dog is guilty in the slaying of rock star Tom Petty. And yet, Mr. Petty is alive and well -- I've spoken to him myself. This is truly a bizarre case."

The dog had been on the run since her Aug. 3 attack on Petty at a charity event near Dallas.

In an e-mailed message, the singer said he owed his life to the enigmatic Ayatollah Mugsy of Pug Life Ministries. "The pug dog resurrected me," he wrote. "No further comment. Praise be to the wrinkly imam."

Put me in, coach

They call me AD, because I can eat All Day.

May the forces of good and righteousness overcome the Great Burnt Orange Satan.

Academic scandal brewing?

I have noticed that Wendell's collar has "Lil' Dog University" written on it.

I am not one to cast aspersions, but after consulting with several national and regional accreditation bodies, I have come to suspect that this is a puppy diploma mill.

Feats of strength

I clenched the rope between my powerful jaws, as I had so many times before. But now, it was different. After vanquishing the hapless, puny humans untold hundreds of times, would this contest finally bring a worthy competitor?

At the other end of the rope, young Wendell took hold. He was inexperienced, to be sure, but eager. Eager to test his mettle, eager to take on this ancient pug rite of passage. He nodded and squeaked to signal his readiness.

With that, I smoothly pulled my head back. Every muscle in my chiseled, sinewy body worked in unison. My legs straightened; my claws gripped the carpet. Wendell attempted to follow suit but instead went airborne and landed mere inches from my face. We exchanged growls, and then I moved away from him, quickly taking up the rope's newfound slack. Again, he lurched forward as I tugged on the rope. This young pug was experiencing a veritable baptism by fire. But one cannot hope to be the best unless one competes against the best. And that would be me, my flock. After pausing for a moment to let the initial shock wear off for young Wendell, I again jerked on the rope. He lost his footing and careened into a nearby chew toy, growling all the way.

I urged him on, combining encouragement with insult for maximum motivational effect. "Dig deep my brother," I implored. "You tug like an unveiled woman!"

After another 20 seconds of swinging my three-and-a-half-pound brother around like a ragdoll, I jumped onto the couch. Surely this would provide the motivation he needed.

"Wendell," I barked, "this is what you have always wanted. The couch -- my tail's lone refuge from your chew-happy teeth. Hang onto the rope, and you shall finally be able to scale this mountain."

But, alas, his jaws were not yet strong enough, and the rope was soon in my sole possession. Wendell's first journey to the couchtop would have to come another day.

The incredible hulking whippet

I've been marveling at this ultra-ripped whippet, my flock. A genetic mutation left her with double muscles, meaning her leg press may very well exceed that of my business rival Pat Robertson. Does anyone know how to get in touch with this dog? I must recruit her for the Armed Revolutionary Forces (ARF).

Mugsy and Wendell go to see Interpol

I took my little brother to his first music show last night. As we queued to enter the Palladium Ballroom, Wendell was upset when he was told he had to go through a separate line. "Why?" he barked. "Because you're under 21 in dog years," the usher barked back. As a bracelet was fitted above his paw, I explained to Wendell that he would not be missing out on anything. "The sin of alcohol is far greater than the benefit," I told him.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"It is written in the Quran, my brother," I replied. "You have much to learn."

Once inside, I approached the bartender. "We would like two waters -- in bowls," I barked. The bartender appeared perplexed. "Ahem, down here!" I barked. "Oh, sorry, Your Holiness," he stammered, leaning over the bar. "Two water bowls coming right up -- on the house."