A good time was had by all

Pug-O-Ween was Sunday, and it was everything I'd hoped for. I won over scores of new converts to the Pug Life way. However, I did not win a trophy. The "iPug," a dog dressed as an iPod, won the prize for best costume in my age group. Naturally, a horde of angry Pug Life followers gathered in the corner of the gymnasium, torches and pitchforks in paw. But I persuaded them to forgo their righteous vengeance. The human judges were clearly trying to divide us -- to take our minds off the struggle for voting rights -- and we could not allow that to happen. My grandparents and great-grandmother attended, as did a couple of my human friends. I consider all to be honorary pugs, and it was good to see them. I was particularly enthralled by a young black pug dressed provocatively as a hula dancer. The harem invitation is in the mail.

They deserved better

They circled you excitedly after you picked up the leash, eagerly awaiting their jaunt outdoors. They could barely hold still as you clasped the leash to their collar. This was the day they had been waiting for. You had to open the door slowly as they strained to get out, a glimmer of daylight beckoning them onward. They kept a quick pace as they strode down the sidewalk, blocking out the smells that would normally distract them. They would not stop at that light pole today; they were on a mission. As they rounded the corner and spotted their destination, they began to pull. You nearly lost your grip on the leash and had to jog a few steps to keep up. A kind man in a suit held the door as they walked in, their eyes wide with excitement. They smiled broadly, in that way that only a dog can, as you picked up your ballot. "What, just one?" they thought. "Well, I'm sure I'll be next." Then you walked into the booth and made your selections. "Come on, boy. Let's go," you said. They tried futilely to hold their ground, their nails scratching the tile floor. But you pulled too hard on the leash. Dejected, they followed you home. They thought it was their time. They'd spent months researching the issues, getting to know the candidates. But you, the fool who voted for Gerhard Schroeder -- they would have never voted for Gerhard Schroeder! -- were the only one who would cast a ballot. Shame on you, Germans.

Not that I'm hoping for another ...

It has come to my attention that the formation of Hurricane Wilma has exhausted this year's list of assigned storm names. Should Allah decide to swirl up another storm, it would be given the uninspiring name "Alpha." This is fine for a tropical depression or a tropical storm, but for anything stronger, it simply will not do. I propose that in the event of another mighty tempest, we use the name "Hurricane Mugsy." It has a nice, ferocious ring to it, doesn't it?

Cat chase fever

While conducting services at my mosque over the weekend, I was asked by a young pug if it is permissible for a good Muslim dog to chase cats. This young pug was quite energetic, as puppies generally are, and he chased the family cat as a way to let off some steam. I told the pug -- and I will tell you now -- that it is, indeed, permissible under Islam to chase cats, provided it is done in moderation. As we know, cats tend to be lazy creatures who lie around all day. Their intelligence, when compared with the noble canine, is also sorely lacking. So it is our duty to ensure that these cats get their daily exercise. It is also our right to use these dumb animals for our purposes. But we must not go too far. As the Prophet Muhammad said, "Fear God in treating dumb animals, and ride them when they are fit to be ridden, and get off them when they are tired."

Opportunity barks

Greetings, my faithful flock. I am hurting today. I believe I pulled a muscle in my back while changing my mother's tire early Saturday. Why she would call a pug to fix her flat tire, I do not know. But there is some good news that has kept my spirits up. My sources tell me that the alluring Shelby, that lovely German giantess, has moved into a palatial new home. I am quite happy for my behemoth beauty, and I look forward to visiting her at her new estate. But that is not all. My operatives also tell me that Shelby appears to be newly single. Her old flame, Gorilla, was spotted nursing a nasty wound, his face apparently bitten off by the enchanting Shelby in a fit of rage. And this ayatollah is ready to swoop in to comfort her in her time of need. Certainly, seeing Gorilla's mangled mug is reason for pause. Shelby does outweigh me by well over 100 pounds. But I don't believe that such violence will be an issue. Once she has realized all that my harem has to offer, she will come around. And besides, I am far more charming than Gorilla. Honestly, I don't know what she ever saw in him.

So hungry

I know I shouldn't be saying this, but I despise Ramadan. Ten hours until sunset, and I'm already starving. I'm sure Allah will not mind if I just chew on this bone ...

Batpug unveiled

As requested, here is a preview of my Pug-O-Ween garb (my cowl is slightly askew in the photo on the right). I thoroughly enjoyed wearing this costume over the weekend -- so much so that I donned my Bark Knight uniform last night and thwarted two muggings and a carjacking. Of course, there is still work to be done. I need some velcro to keep my cape in place and some additional accessories for my utility belt -- perhaps some rawhide Bat-a-rangs. But this should give you an idea of what you'll see if you attend Pug-O-Ween and look toward the winner's circle. And fear not, ladies, the beard will grow back quickly.