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?

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. 

Mugsy returns

Greetings, my flock. Your furry imam has returned. I am going to have my stitches taken out tomorrow morning, and the veterinarian tells me it is OK to resume light blogging. Praise Allah! Soon, God willing, I will be allowed to go on a walk again. Or as my parents say when they don't want to excite me, "W-A-L-K." The silly humans think I can't spell.

Post-op pug

Greetings, my flock. I am recovering from surgery at the ayatollah compound. I went under the knife on Friday to have some spots removed before they turn into something dangerous. In my short time on this orb, I have been through numerous operations. In fact, I now have more stitches and scar tissue than the buffoons on satellite TV's "Cutlery Corner."




But that which does not kill me only makes me hungrier. My appetite is fully restored, and I am rapidly regaining my strength. Last night, I even briefly gave chase to young Wendell, before my parents intervened to settle me down. Although I am doing well, my veterinarian wants me to take it easy for the next week or two. So I will be temporarily turning over my blogging duties to young Wendell. I believe he is ready to take on such a major responsibility, and he should bring a fresh, young perspective to the pulpit. God willing, he will help the ministry capture some of the coveted "tween" demographic.

Mugsy's surgery a success

I am in recovery, my flock. I went under the knife yesterday for some surgery to remove a small growth on my side. I had not previously disclosed this information to the congregation because, like my bout with Lyme disease last year, it just never came up. The operation left me groggy and with little appetite, but I am beginning to return to normal today, after a good night's sleep. To keep me from scratching at my stitches, mother followed the well-trained vet's advice and put one of her T-shirts on me. I understand that this is for my own good, but it simply is not proper for an ayatollah to cross-dress. Why, oh why, couldn't father have been more petite?