It had been a particularly grueling week at the mosque. And so it was time for some relaxation. After all, Allah had blessed us with a beautiful day. "Pack a bowl of icewater and grab a plastic bag," I barked to the humans. "We are going to the park." Central Park, not far from the ayatollah compound, is a nice slice of nature punctuated by statues of rampaging cattle and verses of cowboy poetry. Just the kind of place for a canine cleric to unwind.
And unwind I did. I roamed the trail. I sniffed the cacti. I even met a lovely canine near one of the park's bubbling fountains. She was nervous at first, perhaps stifled by her non-Muslim upbringing. But as I told her of my vision for Pugistan, she began to warm to me. Her tail was soon wagging as vigorously as mine.
Finally, I bid farewell and made my way toward the pugmobile. My new friend cried and whimpered. She strained at her leash, not ready to see me go. "Keep Allah in your heart and rawhide in your mouth," I barked, "and I shall always be close at paw."
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