The Pug Epic: Part III

This is the third chapter in a multi-part history lesson. To read the previous installment, click here. 

As Genghis Khan's forces massed at the Great Wall, debate raged within the pug parliament. A battle with the warlord would no doubt prove bloody. Though the pugs were confident that their superior intellect and military might would help them prevail, they preferred to avoid an unnecessary conflict. Centuries of war had left many of the dogs weary. They had long ago traded in their thrice-daily naps for careers as soldiers and merchants and artisans. Nerves were frayed and hackles were raised as the dogs sought a solution. Finally, a consensus emerged within the pug parliament around a charismatic leader named Sun Mugtzu. This pug, bigger than most, with a perfectly concave face and exquisite jowls, was unanimously elected emperor of the canines. He raised a million-pug army -- unheard of in that time -- and embarked on his rendezvous with destiny. 

Sun Mugtzu stood atop the Great Wall looking down upon Genghis Khan's sea of warriors. The Mongol encampment stretched to the horizon and beyond, with longbows angling skyward and swords glinting in the evening sunlight. He told the Mongols of the massive pug army on the other side of the wall, and of the certain death that awaited many of the rebels should they seek to invade. The pugs held the high ground and could strike far behind the Mongol front lines with their advanced artillery. Plus, scores of pug ninjas had already infiltrated the camp and stood ready to attack at a moment's notice. 

After Sun Mugtzu's show of strength, he invited Genghis Khan to meet him atop the Great Wall. Sun Mugtzu allowed the warlord a glimpse of the pug legions below and then spoke. "Temujin," he barked, using the Mongol's birth name. "We stand on the brink of war. But war is not what we seek. We pugs have spent centuries building our empire, and although we eat the finest treats and receive unlimited belly rubs and possess riches beyond human comprehension, we desire more. I come to offer you a deal."

The Mongol seemed taken aback. He had trained his whole life for this moment, for his opportunity to throw off the yoke of pug rule. He stood ready for a fight. Yet the wise old pug appeared ready to negotiate. Genghis Khan nodded apprehensively. "I'm listening," he said.

To be continued ...

The Pug Epic: Part I

The door slammed shut behind us. "Wendell," I barked, "make yourself comfortable. I must retrieve something." I entered my study and stood on my back paws. There it was -- just as I'd left it. After entering the proper combination, I gingerly took a brown leather cylinder from the safe and went into the living room. Sprawling out beside Wendell on our large dog pillow, I carefully opened the leather pouch and pulled out an ancient scroll. "This document contains the lost history of the pug breed," I said. "It is the only known copy in existence. Wendell, you must promise you will not chew on it." Wendell nodded. I studied his face, and he seemed as sincere as a puppy could be about such matters. 

"All right, then," I said, "let the story begin."

The exact year is uncertain, somewhere around 4000 B.C. The first stirrings of civilization began to appear in China's Yellow River basin, though the waterway was known by a different name at that time. It did not become the Yellow River until the ancient pugs formally claimed it as their territory years later. Having mastered advanced agricultural techniques, our pug forebears no longer had to struggle and beg for their daily kibble. They were now free to focus on building cities and creating primitive works of art. 

As canines poured into these cities, trade flourished. Though technological advances came relatively slowly in these early years, the pug cities continued to grow, asserting their dominance over the less advanced human villages of the region. But frequent flooding of the Yellow River led to periods of fitful dog-paddling, impeding the pugs' progress.

In roughly 2200 B.C., the pugs began construction on a series of levees and dams. This large-scale project was funded primarily through trade in exotic herbs and spices. For example, the much smaller, much less civilized feline population of the region nearly went broke buying up pug-grown catnip. The ingenuity of these early pug merchants and engineers paid off in 1600 B.C., when the canines finally tamed the river. Now, they were free to focus on building their empire. 

For the next 2,000 years, the pugs ruthlessly expanded, swallowing up towns as if they were Milkbones. They forged alliances with canine tribes, such as the mighty Pekingese and Shih Tzu warriors, and they enslaved human resistors, putting them to work on massive public works projects such as the Golden Belly Button, one of the original Eight Wonders of the Ancient World. But the pugs were generally well received by their human underlings, raising the standard of living in newly conquered lands and providing a good-natured brand of leadership. 

By 400 A.D., the pug empire stretched 3,000 miles from the East China Sea to the Himalayas, encompassing most of modern-day China. Barking was the official language of the empire, and a strong emphasis was placed on education. Nearly 90 percent of the population knew how to sit and speak, and many could roll over as well. The pugs' power was unrivaled. But they were just getting started. 

To be continued ...