Ministry fundraiser

Ladies of the congregation, dig deep into your purses and pocketbooks. What kind of dowry would you offer for such a handsome pug? True, young Wendell isn't much of a provider, and he may well steal the food off your plate. But at the same time, he will surely steal your heart. 


Please submit your sealed bids by next Monday. Up to four winners may be selected.

Mugsy recovers from surgery

Greetings, my flock. I come to you this weekend with a new line of stitches to affirm my legendary toughness. I went under the knife on Monday to have a tumor removed from my leg. The incision was near my knee, giving rise to concerns that my mobility might be affected. But as my recent leap onto father's lap in my favorite recliner shows, I am as resilient as ever. I am fully recovered from surgery, and I look forward to many more years leading the ministry. 


I want to thank my little brother Wendell for filling in as interim ayatollah on Monday. He showed remarkable acumen for such a young pup, putting down an attempted chew toy rebellion and leveraging the ministry's nuclear program to extort biscuits from the international community as if he were an old pro. I see a bright future for young Wendell, my flock. A bright future, indeed. Who knows -- he may even follow me into the clergy full-time. 


With all that said, there is one issue that concerns me greatly. While I was under the influence of anesthesia and dreaming about rawhide angels on Monday, the veterinarian cleaned my teeth. She found one that was loose and pulled it. But I have not received that tooth, my flock. It has vanished, leaving me no opportunity to summon the Tooth Fairy for a lopsided financial transaction. I scoured eBay, half-expecting to find it listed for a six-figure sum by an unscrupulous veterinary assistant. But there was no trace of my tooth. Now I am beginning to suspect that mother took it in the hopes of meeting her favorite silver-screen heartthrob. 

Would mother betray her eldest son for the chance to meet
Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson? And does she realize that
he is an actor and merely played the Tooth Fairy in a movie?

Wendell named interim ayatollah

I have placed Wendell in charge of the ministry for the day. If he asks you for a Milkbone, it would be prudent to comply. 

Wendell's new vocation

My little brother Wendell has asked me to spread the word about his new blog, The Capitalist Pug. It seems that young Wendell has become a financial guru -- who knew? He tells me that he was inspired by Bernie Madoff. I'm proud of him for taking the initiative and entering this new career phase. I always hoped he'd follow my pawsteps into the clergy, but I'm sure he'll do a fine job as a financial adviser. He's even offering free advice -- you can e-mail him your questions or post them on his blog. Just keep in mind Wendell's disclaimers. He is a 2-year-old pug, after all. 


Best of luck, Wendell. And do not forget to advise the "small people" to tithe.

Day at the Cotton Bowl

I recently attended a historic gathering, my flock. What began with a blog post almost one year ago today culminated in the largest Water-Bowl Party yet at the Cotton Bowl last weekend. Dogs from across the country converged on the Dallas stadium to protest anything and everything. And to do a good bit of sniffing and biscuit-eating in the House that Doak Walker built. 

Among the topics we protested:

• High taxes and taxation without canine representation.
• Excessive government spending and regulation.
• Insufficient government social programs and the feds' inability to reign in the Wall Street "fat cats."
• People who insist on crossing the road in a slow, catty-corner manner, rather than walking straight across. 

You may think it sounds a little bit like one of those human Tea Parties, and you'd be right. Except that we canines have far better spelling and grammar on our protest signs, and the average cuteness quotient of our protesters is significantly higher. 

We also had different rules at our canine gathering. For example, a strict child leash law was in effect to minimize tail-pulling. The lad below broke free from his parents and ran around with his leash dragging on the ground for a few anxious moments before he was subdued by the Armed Revolutionary Forces (ARF). Our investment in nonlethal Taser guns has already begun to pay dividends. 

Several wading pools were set up on the field of play to help the canines stay cool. And at one point, the sprinkler system turned on without warning. This sent me high-tailing it in the opposite direction. Allah intended water to be in my bowl, not on my fur. 

One of my favorite things about such large-scale gatherings is that they give me an opportunity to mingle with my flock -- to sniff the commoners, so to bark. I met one particularly fetching pug named Delilah, who works part-time at the fine Woof store in Plano alongside her brother Wilbur. I sniffed her with great vigor -- you should've seen my tail wagging. I stuck by Delilah's side for much of the afternoon. Though I enjoyed meeting all of the fine canines in my flock, she was my favorite harem prospect. Note her ubersexy tongue.

Unfortunately, my brother Wendell has a tendency to try to insinuate himself into the middle of my dates at the most inopportune times. 

He can be such a flock-block. 

Wendell ascends to papacy

VATICAN CITY (AP) -- The Catholic world was stunned Thursday after Pope Pius Pug resigned as vicar of the church, brought down by the spiraling scandal over inappropriate petting in the clergy. 


The Catholic Church then took the extraordinary step of skipping its usual conclave to select a new pope and instead immediately installing a 2-year-old Texas pug named Wendell as the next pontiff. Wendell is believed to be the youngest pope in church history. 


One senior bishop, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the church needed to bring in a "hip, youthful leader" to appeal to Catholics who had begun to feel disgruntled with the previous pontiff. 


In a brief statement delivered from the balcony of St. Peter's Basilica, Wendell said that he'd decided against taking "one of those stodgy old-school pope names" and that he would instead call himself "Popey Dub." Dub is apparently an urban slang word used to refer to the "W" in Wendell.


"I don't know much about this whole Catholic theology thing," the black pug barked. "I'm really more of a ball-chaser and rawhide-chewer. But we'll figure it out.


"I'm really excited to be taking over the church during Holy Week -- I hear it's a big deal. So I'm gonna check through my closets and find my craziest pope outfit, and we're all gonna hide some eggs and celebrate the resurrection of the Easter Bunny in style! Peace out, dudes."

Mugsy returns from sabbatical

Greetings, my loyal flock. I have returned from my long sabbatical, refreshed and ready to take the ministry to new heights. I took a leave of absence after undergoing surgery in late November, putting the day-to-day operation of Pug Life Ministries in the occasionally capable paws of my little brother, Wendell. He was tasked with providing regular updates on this blog and delivering a few simple sermons that I had prepared for him. Unfortunately, Wendell suffers from CADHD (Canine Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), and after posting a few Holiday Gift Guide entries, he lost interest in the blog and began to focus on a new candy cane-shaped rawhide bone, among other distractions.

During my sabbatical, I took time to recharge my creative and spiritual batteries. I researched two new fatwas and laid the groundwork for an exciting new project for the ministry, the likes of which the world has never seen. God willing, I will soon have more information on this endeavor to share. And I also spent extra time with my harem mates, using the break to nurture and enhance our relationships while the ayatollahmobile was in the body shop to have some 9-iron-shaped dings and window breaks mended.

I am happy to be back, and I want to thank my loyal followers for the many notes of concern and support I received during my absence. I appreciated them greatly. (I would have appreciated them more had they been accompanied by monetary or Milkbone donations, but as mother always says at the dinner table, "Beggars can't be choosers.") I also want to thank the fashionable follower who purchased the first-ever Classic Harem-Wear Thong from the ministry gift shop. God willing, I will reclaim it someday and add it to my collection of sacred female undergarment relics.

Peace and belly rubs be upon you all, and may the fires of Satan never singe your whiskers.

What the?!?

I have witnessed a bizarre ritual in which mother, father and Wendell were all howling. I am preparing my exorcism kit, just in case ...

The secret life of pugs

The estrogen hung thick in the air, so thick you could slice it with a scimitar. A crowd of mostly older, feminist women -- many with hair not much longer than my own fur -- had turned out for the Dallas Museum of Art's presentation of mother-daughter authors Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor. The elder Kidd is perhaps best known for her 2002 novel "The Secret Life of Bees," but on this night the pair were discussing their first collaboration, the memoir "Traveling With Pomegranates." As a pug who enjoys both road trips and eating fruits, I jumped at the chance to join mother under the majestic dome of downtown's First Presbyterian Church of Dallas for the event.

The pair talked about the unique dynamics of the mother-daughter relationship, about finding their way in life as their relationship and their views of themselves changed, and about the symbolic and personal meanings they gleaned from their journeys together to Greece, Turkey and France. Listening to their talk, I immediately dozed off and began to dream about my own idea for a memoir. It would be about the unique dynamic of the pug brother-brother relationship, written in alternating chapters by Wendell and yours truly.

Few authors have dared to tackle such a daunting project. The pug brother-brother relationship is fraught with complexity -- the constant competition for rawhide and kibble counter-balanced by Wendell's nurturing daily cleaning of my wrinkle, the "I've got your back" outbursts of barking, and yes, the myriad squabbles and turf battles brought about by Wendell's status as a confirmed "mama's pup." If written properly, my flock, I believe this memoir could someday top the best-seller lists.

Just as my literary epiphany began to crystallize, I was brought back to consciousness, my slumber interrupted by the onset of the night's question-and-answer session. In the "question" of the night, a woman strode to the microphone and praised Sue Monk Kidd's feminist critique of our patriarchal society in "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter." Then, in a rambling, vaguely angry manner, she criticized Kidd for not tackling the exact same themes in her mother-daughter memoir. Kidd politely responded that those themes did not fit the story that she set out to write with her daughter, to which the woman responded, and I'm paraphrasing, "Well your new book sucks eggs because it's not written exactly the way I would write it, and you're a disgrace to women everywhere."

I nudged mother. "Go tell the authors that you love books about dinosaurs and that you're deeply disappointed that their mother-daughter memoir included no T. rexes," I whispered.

Sadly, mother declined.

Itching for some fall sports

Greetings, my flock. The last few weeks have been rather busy in the ayatollah household. We have traveled out of state each of the last two weekends. And things are only getting busier; for this weekend, I will be hosting a houseful of rabid football fans in town for the season opener pitting the mighty Oklahoma Sooners against the less-mighty (we pray) BYU Cougars. The game at the new Cowboys Stadium in Arlington will at long last mark the end of the summer sports doldrums.

This morning, I went to the prestigious Pepper Square Pet Clinic in Dallas for my regular vaccinations, which should protect me from anything these rabid football fans might be carrying. Wendell went along as well, to have his paws examined. My little brother has been chewing on his feet in a worrisome manner, and the veterinarian found that Wendell has allergies that led to an infection. So Wendell is now taking various pills, including steroids that could make the young speedster even stronger and more athletic. With his long limbs and uncanny quickness, Wendell seems destined for a career in the NBA. Which is good, because he already possesses the spending habits of a superstar athlete.

With a bullet

We were ready to go. We had the directions to the town-hall meeting and a full gas tank in the ayatollahmobile. We had our megaphone to shout down opposing viewpoints in a display of our First Amendment rights. We had our talking points -- a prepared speech on the necessity of any health-care reform including universal veterinary care as well as medical care for chew toys. (True, the latter point is controversial, but it is necessary; the faster the chew toys get stitched up, the faster we can ravage them again.) Yes, Wendell and I were ready to raise a ruckus at tonight's health-care town hall. Until we realized that Wendell's M60 machine gun wouldn't fit in his car crate. So disappointing ...

The running of the Chihuahuas

I attended my first Chihuahua race over the weekend, my flock. I arose early Saturday morning, eager to see the spectacle of 300 pint-sized canines competing for the regional championship and a shot at the world title. As I pulled into the Petco parking lot in North Dallas, I didn't know what to expect. Would pugs be welcome? Would parimutuel wagering be involved? Would there be a tiny jockey on each Chihuahua? These and many more questions would soon be answered.

The crowd was a diverse mix. Though Chihuahuas were naturally most prevalent, many other breeds turned out to show their support. Camera crews were filming the scene, and a purported celebrity was interviewing the winners of each heat. Competitors came from as far away as St. Joseph, Mo., and San Antonio. I neglected to take my camera to properly document the spectacle, but it looked much like the photo above (from a different race locale).

The races began with the Chihuahuas taking their spots behind the starting gates. Each dog had a two-person team, one to hold the dog until the starting gun, and another to wait at the finish line and cheer the competitor on. Before going to the finish line, the human would often show the Chihuahua something to focus on -- a ball, bone or other trinket to motivate the racer. Most of the dogs zeroed in on the finish line with razor-like focus, eager to sprint toward their human. Unfortunately, that focus waned during the lengthy introduction that preceded each race. The emcee went over each dog's name and shared some key biographical information. And by the time the starting gate was finally raised, roughly two dogs per heat remembered that the finish line was their urgent destination. Others ambled about, sniffing one another, walking sideways and usually eventually finding their way to the finish line. Any dog who could gingerly trot in a straight line was likely to finish in the top 3.

None of the Chihuahuas displayed the lightning speed of my younger brother Wendell. But then again, even human sprinter Usain Bolt couldn't hang with the pup in last summer's Olympics. He is one fast dog. I'm convinced that if Wendell had been allowed to run, he would either finish first or dead last -- he does appear to suffer from attention-deficit disorder. But Wendell is a pug, the elite athlete of the animal kingdom, so obviously it would not be a fair competition.

Some have asked whether the infamous Sister Bella took part in the races. I did encourage her to compete, but she was a no-show on race day. It is probably just as well -- sadly, Bella will probably never outrun her demons.

Happy birthday, Wendell!

The ayatollah compound is in celebration mode, my flock. For today is Wendell's 2nd birthday. I remember well the day mother brought him home. He was tiny, with a bad case of stinky puppy acne. But he deferred to my authority, stayed away from my food bowl and was a good cuddler, so I welcomed him into the compound and embraced my new brother. It wasn't long before his shyness abated and he learned how to play -- one of our favorite games was "Swing the Puppy." Who would have guessed then that he'd someday grow taller than me?

Our celebration began yesterday with a family trip to PetSmart. Wendell and I got some new chew toys, and we also sniffed a hound dog. Then father and I went to the party store next door.

"Can I help you find something?" asked a store clerk.

"I'm looking for party hats, the pointy kind," father answered.

The clerk led us to another aisle. "Are you looking for hats for children or adults?" he asked.

"Um ... actually, for dogs," father answered, suddenly reminded of his status as neighborhood outcast.

The clerk scratched his head.

But as you can see, we found some suitable hats, as well as a pair of 25-cent leis. My flock, few things excite me more than getting leid. Whenever I see father holding a lei, my tail wags wildly in a hula-like rhythm and I run toward him with my head down, eager to put it on. Then I smile widely for several minutes, and nothing, not even a fatwa-violator, can dampen my spirits.

We took our party outside to show off our garb to passing neighbors and let Wendell play with his soccer ball. I also urged the humans to fix that piece of weatherstripping hanging off the door. "What will my blog audience think?" I barked. "It is embarrassing. No wonder you are the neighborhood outcasts."

After some time under the hot Texas sun, we went inside to cool down. I sprawled out on the cool tile while Wendell went to work on his new frozen chew bone. It wasn't long before we were exhausted. Partying, when done properly, can be hard work.

Wendell does doga

Good afternoon, my blogging audience. This is Wendell, the ayatollah's younger brother. I am writing now from a place of perfect inner tranquility. Though I was once a wild puppy, I am now peaceful and relaxed. Why, you ask? Because I have been doing yoga with my mother. Or as some would call it, "doga."

While I was once a high-strung pooch, I am now content to be doing a "downward dog" pose. And I am not alone. The doga movement is growing. Not at the same pace as Mugsy's canine suffrage movement, but it is growing nonetheless. You can see photos of numerous doga practitioners in this New York Times slideshow. Or you can watch the online trailer for dogadog.com's upcoming DVD and see a brief doga demonstration by clicking here.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some sun salutations to do before I turn off the A/C for a little Bikram action.

Namaste.

Mugsy's whereabouts revealed

DALLAS (AP) -- The mystery of Ayatollah Mugsy's bizarre disappearance was solved Wednesday when the enigmatic canine religious leader revealed that he had spent the last five days waiting in line in a Wal-Mart Supercenter "express lane."

"The sign said 10 items or less," the ayatollah barked at an emotional news conference, "but several of the shoppers were clearly breaking the rules. I don't care if it costs extra; next time, God willing, I will go to Target or Kroger."

Word of the ayatollah's disappearance broke over the weekend, when members of his harem told the news media that they had no idea where he was. Officials at Mugsy's Pug Life Ministries at first said they didn't know about the ayatollah's whereabouts. Later, the ministry issued a statement saying that the pug was "probably just out taking a walk."

As media curiosity grew, Mugsy's younger brother Wendell released a statement saying that the ayatollah was "climbing the Matterhorn to blow off some steam after a difficult week." An hour later, Wendell released a new statement that read, "Mount Everest is higher than the Matterhorn, right? That's where Mugsy is. He's climbing Mount Everest. It's nothing unusual."

It was unclear who was in charge of Pug Life Ministries during the ayatollah's absence, though speculation centered on Wendell and a chew toy named Mallard, a duck who is believed to be Mugsy's top assistant. Reached by phone, Mallard declined to quack.

During an interview Tuesday with the Associated Press, several members of Ayatollah Mugsy's harem expressed doubt over the official stories released by the ministry, which by this time included word that the pug icon was helping squelch a rebellion in Iran, that he was hang-gliding in Peru, and that he was having his nails trimmed. Those members of the harem were reportedly expelled early Wednesday, but Ayatollah Mugsy declined to comment on the matter.

A representative of Wal-Mart, reached at the retail giant's headquarters in Bentonville, Ark., said that having a customer wait in line for five full days is "somewhat unusual, but not unprecedented." The retailer says it tries to limit waits to no more than four days.

Baseball milestone, glowing pups and more!

Hi there, Pug Lifers. It's Wendell at your service once again, wondering when the ministry is going to update my photo. I feel like one of those newspaper columnists who runs the same mug shot for 20 years, and then when he finally reshoots it, you wonder if his dad took over the job from him. But Big Brother Mugsy calls the shots, so I'll leave that up to him.

As I've gotten older and matured somewhat, I've been taking on a bigger role with Pug Life Ministries. I've been spending less time chasing my tail and more time learning from the master. A while back, Mugsy assigned me to work on a special project developing a canine-centric news wire service. He says this could be critical to the success of the ministry's planned cable news network. I don't think Mugsy has filled you in on this, but basically it's been a dream of his for a few years now. When he first pitched the idea for a 24-hour network to cable and satellite providers, they deemed it too extreme. But with the ongoing radicalization of the Fox Newses and MSNBCs of the world, we believe that the Dog News Network's stance on strictly enforced sharia law and canine suffrage could now be considered almost moderate. Keep your fingers and paws crossed for DNN -- I think it's an idea whose time has come.

Anyway, even though we don't yet have a network to air these stories on, I'm constantly compiling information for Mugsy. Here's a sampling of what I've found recently:

• Leading off, we have a history-making tale about Master Yogi Berra. This modern-day Jackie Robinson has broken baseball's long-standing species barrier, becoming the first canine to be ejected from a baseball game. The mascot for the Greensboro Grasshoppers was tossed by home plate umpire Jason Hatchings for "relieving himself" on the field. Thankfully, the owner of the North Carolina team, Donald Moore, is sticking by his pooch. "When you gotta go, you gotta go," he said.

• The dog-training company Bark Busters has embarked on a search for the naughtiest dog in America. The winner of the National Naughty Dog Contest will win free training. I'm sure that nobody in the congregation would qualify for this, but just in case, you can find details by clicking here.

• A dog in Thailand is now the proud owner of a $4.2 million jewel-encrusted tiara, courtesy of caretaker and jewelry designer Riwin Jirapolsek. The Thai man now plans to create a jeweled hair clip for his 15-year-old Maltese, to help keep the fur out of his beloved pet's eyes. And they say we're in the midst of a global economic recession!

• And finally, researchers say they have created the world's first fluorescent cloned dogs. The four beagle puppies, including Ruppy (pictured below), glow red under ultraviolet light. The researchers say this experiment that mixed canine cells with a gene from a sea anemone could aid in the study of human diseases, but I think their motives are more nefarious. A glowing race of merbeagle supersoldiers, anyone? The ayatollah has made clear his thoughts on canine cloning, so I suggest that you scientists stick with your night lights. 

Mugsy doing well after surgery

Hey, everybody. Wendell here, filling in for Big Brother. As some of you know, Mugsy had surgery on Friday to have a lump removed. He has a history of mast cell tumors, so we have to watch out for these things and nip 'em in the bud. The vet said the operation went really well, and Mugsy seems to be feeling good. His recovery this time has been much better than in past surgeries. His tail is up and curled tightly, and he's barking the word of Allah with great abandon -- especially when the neighborhood kids congregate at the fence. 

Even though he's only two days removed from the operation, I think Mugsy's pretty much back to normal. His toughness is the stuff of legend. Still, the vet says Mugsy should limit his activity for a while, so I'll be taking over blogging duties for the next week or so. 

Big Bro, you just sit back and relax and let your harem fawn all over you, and I'll try to make you proud. 

Happy birthday to Mugsy!

Hey, everybody. It's Wendell. Mugsy's busy writing his next history lesson, so he let me borrow the keys to the blog. Big Brother says he's far too modest to announce a ministry-wide celebration of his birthday. So he suggested that I do it. Well, "suggested" might not be a strong enough word. Anyway, I want to say that I'm really happy to see Mugsy still going strong at 8 years old. What he's accomplished in that time is pretty amazing -- a successful rap career; overcoming a criminal conviction; finding Allah in the dog pound; founding the world's largest interfaith, interspecies ministry. I could go on, but you get the idea. 

To celebrate the big day, I asked mom to scan some old photos for the blog. Mugsy's puppy photos had never before been published on the Internet, because they were taken back in the Dark Ages before the 'rents got a digital camera. So check out these pics of baby-faced Mugsy -- he barely even had a beard back then! 

This is the first picture my parents ever took of Mugsy, on the day they brought him home. That doggy bed didn't last long, becoming the first victim of Mugsy's chewing. 

Here, Mugsy takes a nap beside our uncle. Look at that form! He's always been good at what he does.

Fans of "Where's Waldo" may like this one. Can you spot the baby ayatollah? Now, I feel that I need to explain one thing. After the latest presidential election, it's clear that it doesn't take much to be labeled a socialist in this country. So to avoid fueling any McCarthy-esque rumors about my Capitalist Pug brother, it should be noted that the dude on the left isn't the Great Russian Bear of Communism. This photo was taken at our grandparents' house, and grandpa was a longtime military man. He picked up the hat while serving in Europe. I like to think that he wore it on covert operations behind the Iron Curtain. But it may have just been a souvenir.

Here, Lil' Mugsy is being held by our other grandfather, who actually has normal-sized hands. 

Mugsy receives a relaxing massage from a sock monkey. 

I think this one's my favorite -- look at that smile! After eight years, it still lights up a room. Happy birthday, Big Bro!

Trip to Genghis Grill

I recently dined at the newly opened Genghis Grill in my fair suburb. When I first went to the Genghis Grill in Addison several years ago, near my old North Dallas apartment, it was billed as a Mongolian barbecue restaurant. Now, it's apparently called Mongolian stir fry. But the concept is the same: You build your own bowl, piling on any of several raw meats, vegetables, seasonings and sauces, and then the mix is thrown on a big circular metal grill, beaten and mixed with wooden sticks, and cooked until it is done. It's an ingenious business model, because if your meal does not turn out well, you have only yourself to blame for choosing the wrong ingredients.

As I chowed down on my halaal meat-veggie-starch combo, Wendell pointed to a large picture on the wall of several heavily armed warriors on horseback. "Who is that?" Wendell asked. "A group of actors," I answered, pausing briefly before diving back into my bowl. "Oh," my little brother replied. 

"Are the actors supposed to be anyone in particular?" Wendell asked. "Yes," I replied, licking my lips. My bowl was now empty, so I was more inclined to converse. "Genghis Khan and his troops. He was a great conqueror, a leader of men."

"Like you, Mugsy?" Wendell asked.

"Somewhat like me," I said to the young pug. His curiosity and reverence for his Big Brother pleased me. "For nearly 800 years, his exploits have been the stuff of legend. But the humans do not know the full story. They do not realize that he owed everything to the esteemed pug dog."

"Really, Mugsy?" Wendell said, his eyes wide with wonder. "Will you tell me the story?"

"Yes, my brother," I answered, giving my bowl one last lick. "Listen closely to what you are about to hear, for it is our heritage. And our destiny." 

To be continued ...

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Hey, everybody! Wendell here. Big Brother Mugsy told me I could wish everybody a happy St. Patrick's Day. This is one of my favorite holidays -- I already added green food coloring to all the water bowls in the house, and I've got my green collar on. I don't think Mugsy understands why I get so into St. Patrick's Day. I tried to explain it to him. I said, "Dude, I'm a party animal! And besides, it's my heritage." And Mugsy said, "What do you mean, your heritage?" And I said, "Mugsy, I'm pretty sure I'm Black Irish."