Party animals

Wilbur (left) and Mugsy await a well-deserved treat.

My business-minded friend Wilbur the Pug, a shopkeeper in Plano, is celebrating his 10th birthday this weekend. I, too, turn 10 this weekend -- on Sunday. As I told Wilbur, Allah was having an exceptionally good week in early April of 2001. 


Wilbur threw a birthday soiree at his Woof store today, so Wendell and I donned our finest bandanna partywear, piled into the ayatollahmobile and went to visit him. As a present, we wrapped a bow around a pristine stick of rawhide, that most precious material known to pug. Don't worry, my flock -- father assured me that there was plenty more in the compound and that we would not run out. 


Upon arriving, we found Wilbur greeting customers, making sales and extracting biscuits from his mother. He is a shrewd one. A table was set up with cake for human and canine alike, and Wendell and I were able to sample our first-ever slice. Wanting to savor this moment, I naturally chose to scoop up the entire piece of cake in my mouth at once. This left little room to actually chew, however, so the ingestion process took longer than anticipated as the humans nervously hovered over me. Wendell opted for smaller bites taken at supersonic speed. My flock, I am pleased to report that both approaches produced satisfying results. 


As we finished off our cake, someone noticed that some crumbs and icing remained on the floor and appeared poised to reach for a mop or paper towels. But mother assured her this would not be necessary. As a woman who has not had to mop our kitchen floor in years, she knew: Though Wendell and I may be messy eaters, we always clean up after ourselves. 

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.

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!

Happy birthday to me

As some of you know, I celebrated my 7th birthday this week. It seems like only yesterday that I was a tiny, growling pup hanging by my teeth from the legs of father's jeans as he slowly trudged across the room. To mark the occasion, the ministry erected a 70-foot obelisk outside the ayatollah compound. An inscription on the base bears a partial list of my major accomplishments through the first seven years of my life. Truly, it is a breathtaking sight. Yet some in the neighborhood have complained. It seems they were caught off-guard by this towering structure, and by the fact that it was built with homeowners' association funds. They thought their annual dues would go toward landscaping, lawn-mowing, perhaps another gazebo. But this is their own fault. Did they complain when I took control of the HOA presidency late last year through a bloodless coup? No, not in any significant numbers. And did they attend the hastily arranged 3 a.m. meeting where this obelisk was approved? Again, no. Only one neighbor took the time to show up and speak out against this monument. And his vote was outweighed by mine and that of HOA treasurer Wendell. Allah, we thank you for neighborhood politics.