Ministry on alert

Pug Life's intelligence services have reported an increase in negative chatter, leaving me no choice but to raise the collective hackles of the ministry to DEFCON 3. For those who prefer their alerts to be color-coded, this would be somewhere between fuchsia and periwinkle in the Crayola box. At this heightened alert level, you may notice more frequent heavy breathing or panting on the line as you engage in telephone conversations. Pay this no mind; it is for your own protection. Further details to come ...

Whirlwind day

This has been a wild season for tornadoes, my flock. Just a few weeks ago, I was in Oklahoma watching a wall cloud on TV spawn tornado after tornado, eight to 10 in all. Some fizzled out quickly, while others grew to enormous size and ravaged the countryside. The video, shot from a helicopter alongside the wall cloud and by storm-chasers on the ground, was both impressive and humbling. It was a reminder of Allah's power. And no canine knows that power better than Chase the Rottweiler. You see, the dog in suburban Chicago was picked up by a twister over the weekend. One of his human relatives, a 10-year-old, looked out the window and saw a gust of wind carry Chase four feet off the ground. Others saw the dog take flight as well. The tornado damaged buildings and shattered car windows, sending debris flying. Miraculously, Chase survived this swirling terror. After the storm, the 130-pound dog was found shaken but unharmed about a block away. Allahu akbar!

Mugsy praises court ruling

Let it be known that I commend the enlightened nation of Norway for its Supreme Court's stance on canine civil rights. In a landmark ruling handed down yesterday, the court said that police dogs are public servants, so any attack on a police dog is no different than an attack on a human officer. This common-sense ruling was long overdue, and it should be emulated the world over. Every day, brave canines risk their lives to police the unruly human population. We track down fugitives, sniff out bombs and chat with would-be child predators online to ensnare them, in concert with Dateline NBC's To Catch a Predator (what -- did you think Chris Hanson did all that work by himself?). And in return, we ask only for food and water and perhaps, God willing, an occasional belly rub.

Norway's ruling came in the case of Casper the police dog, who chased down a loathsome burglar when his human handlers could not keep up. The thief kicked and punched Casper, but Casper would not back down. Like any dedicated police dog, he collared the perp.

Casper, a proud canine nation salutes you. The next doughnut is on us.

Farewell, Esther

It was a bittersweet day at the ayatollah compound. Esther, our polygamist-sect foster child, was reunited with her parents last night. While we were happy to see the smile on her face, we were also saddened by the realization that she hadn't yet had the time to repaint our chimney or repair our leaning fence. Still, the compound has never been cleaner, and we owe a debt of gratitude to Esther and her strong fundamentalist work ethic. God willing, our application for a foreign-exchange student will be approved, and our other household projects will be taken care of in short order.


Before she left, Esther presented Wendell and me with the outfits she had been sewing for us. Wendell, overcome with puppy excitement, immediately tried his on.



"Esther," I barked, "I think I will save mine for a special occasion."

What is Wendell up to?

I am worried about Wendell. He has been hoarding chew toys, piling them up on the bed. He must have gathered a half-dozen of them. He seems to harbor some kind of apocalyptic vision, brought on by $4-a-gallon gas. Earlier today, I think I saw him pricing generators on Amazon.com. Hopefully this is just a passing phase, and my little brother won't start dropping pipe bombs in the mail. But just in case, I am planning an intervention.

Endorsement for sale

I was recently watching Hardball, as we pugs sometimes do, when an epiphany struck. I had an idea to raise the profile of Pug Life Ministries -- as well as myself, its humble leader -- to new heights. In this day and age, there is no surer path to the media spotlight for a radical cleric than to be associated with a presidential candidate. How many of you had even heard of the Revs. Jeremiah Wright or John Hagee before this campaign season? So just imagine the notoriety that could be attained by one who already leads the world's largest interfaith, interspecies ministry. I had visions of a mega-Dogloo mosque, a book deal, a swimming pool filled with Milkbones. So I made some phone calls. First one candidate, and then another. Then another, still. And all gave me the same answer: Thanks, but no thanks.


It seems that none of the contenders wanted my endorsement. My sermons on canine rights, my strict fatwas and my connections to alleged terrierist groups have been deemed too radical, too far out of touch with mainstream American values. Fair enough. I figure that if I wait a week or so, at least one candidate's desperation will lead her to come crawling back to me.

Flagging support

I sense disloyalty in the ranks, my flock. All may appear rosy on the surface, but one does not reach my stature without a strong sense of paranoia and an ability to sniff out infidels. For Pugistan to be strong, it must be built on the backs of true patriots -- followers who would lay down their lives for the ministry, or at least throw it a bone every now and then. A single weak link could bring the entire ministry crashing down -- and with it the long-held dream of a sovereign canine nation. Yes, my flock, it is time for a mass excommunication to purge the infidels among us. But there is one problem -- a big one. Though I sense this disloyalty, I cannot prove it. Unfortunately, we are bereft of a flag to unite us. Without a flag, there can be no flag lapel pins. And with no flag lapel pins, there can be no accounting of Pugistan's true patriots.

Surely you see my quandary. God willing, we will soon find a Betsy Ross of our own.