It was a Wednesday much like any other, with one exception: My good friend and business partner Pope Pius Pug was in town. With the economy in turmoil, we had much to discuss. How would the ministry weather this financial storm? Was the bold plan for the Dogloo compound still feasible? And how would we feed the hungry? (Sitting beside our bowls moments after mealtime was getting us nowhere.) I had just finished making my final preparations for the pope's visit when I entered the living room and spied a terrifying sight. Wendell had Pope Pius Pug pinned beneath his gangly legs and was vigorously licking the pontiff's forehead. "Mother!" I barked. "Wendell has accosted the pope! You must break this up before we spark an international incident!"
My mother rose from the love seat, where she had been reading a book, and separated the two pugs. Wendell took one last big swipe across the pontiff's brow with his tongue as he was pulled away, then he walked to his oversized pillow and awkwardly licked his lips, as if he were struck by an acute case of dry mouth. "Wendell!" mother exclaimed, gasping. "Did you eat the pope's ashes?"
He sheepishly buried his head for a moment before slinking off to the water bowl.
I looked my Catholic counterpart in the eye and shrugged. "Puppies ... whaddya gonna do?"
No comments:
Post a Comment