It happened again: Pops sent us outside when he heard the repairman drive up. You'd think he'd have learned his lesson. Last time, the Maytag repairman (yes, those commercials are a total sham) said he couldn't fix the oven. He had to order a part. Order a part! If dad had just let us pugs inside, Mugsy could have fashioned a new part out of stray piles of fur. Seriously, Mugsy can do anything. At least, that's what he tells me. So anyway, the part finally arrived, and out we went. Then, through the glass door, we saw a fireball erupt from the oven. Yeah, it's still not fixed; the human repair guy ordered the wrong part. I'm starting to think Big Brother is on to something with his plans for canine rule. Anyway, just wanted to fill you all in on the latest at the compound. Mugsy's been doing well after his surgery and will go to have his stitches out next week. He should be back blogging soon. Oh, gotta go; mom just broke out a new pack of rawhide! Peace, out.
xoxo,
Wendell
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