My day at the G8

I spent the afternoon in L'Aquila, Italy, attending the G8 summit. Pugistan is not a formal member of the Group of Eight industrialized nations, but the delegates recognize that we are a rising power, so most of them are trying to get on my good side. (Hint: Rawhide helps.)

While there, I had my first meeting with U.S. President Barack Obama and French leader Nicolas Sarkozy. We kept the business talk to a minimum, instead focusing on building a rapport as we toured areas damaged by an April earthquake and admired Italy's abundant natural beauty.

Home, at last

I am back at the ayatollah compound after an Italian adventure that included two flight cancellations and an unplanned journey to Oklahoma City, hastily arranged to avoid spending a night at Washington Dulles airport. My entourage and I arrived back in our Dallas-area abode in a borrowed car late Saturday. And what indignity then awaited me? I found that I was to be cruelly stripped of an hour of sleep that night by Daylight Saving Time. If ever there was any doubt that this nation is controlled by corrupt corporate interests, proof can surely be found in the timing of this time change. It strikes right at the heart of the holy pug trinity of sleeping, eating and chewing. What should have been a glorious hour of sleep is now gone forever, as is a cherished hour of weekend cuddling time.

When I am caliph of Pugistan, God willing, we will spring forward at 4 o'clock on a Monday afternoon.

Art-filled day

I come to you today from under a Tuscan sun, my flock, although it is somewhat obscured at the moment by rainclouds. This morning, I visited the world-famous Uffizi art gallery, and then I traveled north to the Accademia gallery, where I saw Michelangelo's David. Never before had I been so impressed by the sight of a naked man, my flock. Let me amend that. Never before had I been impressed by the sight of a naked man. But it was truly a marvel -- it must have stood 20 feet above the floor.

Of all the wonders I have seen in Italy, one sight still eludes me. I have yet to spot an Italian pug. Tomorrow, Wendell and I will travel to Pisa in hopes of salvaging this trip. And perhaps we will offer some architectural advice on a certain crooked tower. Allah be with you.

Wendell's travel journal

Wendell here. Big bro is busy sniffing the Italian women. Earlier, he visited the grave site of some guy named Machiavelli. Said it was one of his heroes. I don't know about that, but I like Florence. Gelato, yum!

Buongiorno from Venice

Greetings, my flock. I am writing you from an Internet cafe near Piazza San Marco in Venice, where I have spent the last several days. The Italians have far more progressive views on canine rights than many of us are accustomed to. It is common to see dogs here in bakeries and cafes. I even spoke with a large Weimeraner in a Coin department store. Like me, he was eyeballing the women's lingerie. I asked no questions, and neither did he. So it was a good talk.

Not only are the canines here afforded rights nearly equal to the humans, but they also all seem to wear designer doggy coats -- Prada, Gucci, etc. Had America's inept human ruling class not destroyed the value of the once-mighty dollar, perhaps I would be able to afford such luxuries. Instead, I am forced to wear only my modest turban and gold-encrusted medallion.

A couple of days ago, I toured the Doge's Palace, where I studied the ways of the Venetian aristocracy and government. This should prove most beneficial as we transition to the canine rule of Pugistan. Already, I am drawing up plans for a Grand Inquisitor's Council to investigate treachery and other infidel acts. If you believe you are sufficiently ruthless, you may submit your resume via e-mail.

My Internet time is nearly up, so I must wander on, my flock. Arrivederci, and Allah be with you.

Trouble in Tuscany

As I mentioned a while back, I will soon be traveling to Italy. It is the low season for tourism there, but a little cold weather will not deter me. After all, I have a thick fur coat to keep me warm. After a week in Venice, my travels will take me to Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance. I have long been an admirer of the ideals of this period -- the explosion of great art, architecture and, especially, Machiavellian wisdom. So visiting this Tuscan capital is the source of much excitement for me.

But I am aware of the very real danger that Florence poses. Some who travel there succumb to the dreaded Stendhal syndrome -- an affliction affecting those overcome by the city's artwork and intense beauty. Symptoms can include dizziness, fainting and hallucinations. Honestly, it is a wonder that tourists continue to visit this den of danger.

In preparation for my travels, I have been taking in the artful masterpieces of ObeyThePureBreed.com, hoping to build up an immunity before I face the Florentine menace. I will stay strong, my flock. I intend to stare Florence in the eye, and God willing, I will do so without being driven mad.

Busy week

It has been over a week since my last post, my flock. It always weighs heavy on my soul when the congregants of Pug Life Ministries are forced to go a prolonged period without my divine guidance, especially in these trying times. But as you can see in the photos below, I have been rather busy.




In addition to the marathon puggyback napping sessions that Wendell and I have engaged in (and they truly are a daily occurrence), here is a recap of some of the events that escaped my blogging attention:

• Wendell recently went under the knife, at the urging of our veterinarian and the great Game-Show Prophet Bob Barker, peace be upon him. Perhaps Wendell's recent outbursts of violence served as a reminder to our parents that the time was right. Or maybe the operation had already been scheduled. In any case, young Wendell recovered quickly from this unkindest cut. As soon as he returned to the ayatollah compound, he proceeded to dash around like a madpug, showing no ill effects whatsoever from this surgery that surely would have felled a human male for days on end. If anything, Wendell seemed to be faster and more energetic, no longer weighed down by any unnecessary appendages. Like yours truly, Wendell appears to be plenty virile to overcome such surgical intervention.
• I met with members of Congress and the Treasury Department this week to lobby for $300 tax rebates for each canine family member in America. Sadly, because of this country's entrenched bias against dogs, the Washington establishment rejected my pleas and agreed only on payments for human children. The infidels. Someday, under the glorious blue skies of Pugistan, they will learn the error of their ways.
• Finally, I have been busy making arrangements for a hastily planned vacation. This entailed, among other things, buying plane tickets, making lodging arrangements, checking on train schedules, and, of course, ensuring that I will have a security team and entourage befitting my stature as leader of the world's largest interfaith, interspecies ministry. In less than a month, I will set paw in Venice as I embark on a long-awaited Italian holiday. Praise Allah! Let us pray that the acqua alta does not force me to put my superb dog-paddling skills to use.