From puggles

the enemy of my enemy is my friend

Introducing the unholy alliance of puggle and Louis the Pug. Allow me to explain.

A wise man… or at least a man… once suggested that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Well, puggles are my enemy… we’ve established that. But ticks, as we have learned (check out my Twitter feed for the news… I gots me the bacteria that cause Lyme Disease in me) are the enemy of me AND my enemy. Simple tautology, yo… me and the puggles are allied against these freaks:

Stare hard yo… these suckers are going down. Them and the bacteria they carry!! BURF!

Now… let me see if I can explain this all to the puggles… verrrrrrry… slllllllowwwwwly. (they ain’t bright).


Imagine, if you will, 125 pugs in a room. That plus me, equalled Pugtoberfest… a happening so awesome I can barely put it into words.

We missed the fastest pug race, which I surely would have won, so I guess I’m still champion. I’m sure I would have beaten the puggles the most. They’re slow, yo.

I wore some ridiculous looking red shirt, but my protests were unheeded by Kimberly. Tim heeded them, if indeed “heeded” is actually a word in the English language.

Afterwards we hit Rock Creek Park and strolled in the woods for a while in the sun and crisp fall day… all in all, an awesome day!

resting up

Gotta get some rest now that everyone’s home… wanna know why? Let’s just say tomorrow is a BIG FRIGGIN ANNIVERSARY here at

Yep, that’s right… two years ago tomorrow, we launched and its subsidiary louisthepug industries. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. No? Ever heard of Google? General Motors? IBM? Yeah… mine, mine and mine… hence, my ability to rest on my laurels today.

Kimberly is leaving town for a whole month this weekend… she says its for some training thing, but I think she might be cheating on me with another pug. I may have to go send some of my people up there to make sure that’s not happening… worse, she could be consorting with a puggle! That would NOT be acceptable…

Speaking of not acceptable… the Wings lost last night, but worse,’s radio feed dropped out after the first period, so I couldn’t root on the boys. That lack of access over the Internets must have allowed the Flames to wake up and beat the Wings… what’s up Need a little more bandwidth so a pug in DC can listen to his game?? Hmmm… I sense a conspiracy, yo…

Bachelor weekend

Kimberly’s off teaching yoga his weekend, so it’s been me and Tim working the dog park for the last couple of days. I’ve enjoyed running around a bit after all of the inside time from the ice and nastiness this past month… I was so happy to be outside, I even got along with a couple of puggles, if you can believe it! I dunno… maybe there are a few cool puggles out there after all!

I think all this extra face time with Tim will be kinda cool… although I guess I can’t hide the fact I sleep 18 hours a day anymore. Drats!

My Santa investigation

As many of you know, I began a hard core investigation of one Tipsy McDrinksalot, A.K.A Santa Claus, just before Christmas. I was pretty sure the fat man was a SWI… sledding while intoxicated… waiting to happen. My supposition was based upon those rosy cheeks, his overly cheerful demeanor, his unwieldy weight gain, and the fact he stumbles about people’s darkened homes in red crushed velvet. People, we live in strange times… I see this guy as a potential high-grade security risk.

Anyways, I caught up with the man in Oklahoma. He was doing “the rounds” as he put it, so I decided it was high time the children and the alleged adults stopped coddling this guy, and a real interrogation could commence.

First thing’s first… the breathalizer. Here you’ll notice me sticking the finest odor detecting instrument known to man next to Kris Kringle’s pie hole. While I noted a hint of eggnog, the predominant smell was sugar cookie. Check. Seems like Santa’s blowing below a .08. At least the friendly skies are safe.

Next, I used several versions of the Jedi mind trick to see if I could trick him into revealing his actual intent… to steal the dog treats from us all and give them to undeserving puggles all around the world. Turns out, dude’s into the kids. No, not Michael Jackson style… he likes them in a totally legal and plutonic way (although all that lap sitting seems a bit weird to me still).

So, in the final analysis, I have to say I’m cool with Santa. We’ll have to remember that for 2007… I have kind of a spotty memory from time to time (particularly in the “obedience” lobe of my massive brain), and I might forget this year’s findings.

Hope everyone had an awesome holiday… one more to go this week for me with New Year’s eve here in DC!

Waiting game

I understand that this Thursday is Thanksgiving. This will be my second real one (I was still on an all-liquid diet in ’04, yo) and based on last year I have an M.O. That’s modus operandi for all you puggles out there… it’s latin for “mode of operation. ” Oh wait… more than one syllable… have to keep it simple for the puggles!

Ahem. For the puggles… it’s my plan.

The plan is simple. Lay… in… wait. Sooner or later, food hits the floor. On Thanksgiving, we’re talking turkey, potatoes, beans, corn, stuffing… basically your Grade-A pirate’s booty of dog no-no’s. Since they’re forbidden, they’re extra yummy. Luckily, the tryptophan in the turkey makes your human keepers a bit on the clumsy side (although not as clumsy perhaps as TranquiliTini drinkers, but I digress) and we can score multiple times on this most hallowed of dog holidays. Hope you don’t have vegetarians for owners for your sake (although I love my one vegetarian owner, I get on my paws and knees nightly that Tim still digs the bird).

So, happy Thanksgiving in advance oh noble canine readers! Get your position ready for Thursday… godspeed to you all!

mea culpa puggles

Alright, I was a bit harsh on puggles yesterday. What can I say? I’m canine. We’re imperfect.

So, as part of my mea culpa I will (a) post an apologetic looking picture (see above), and (b) offer my services as a mentor to all puggles. I figure you’re kinda like my half brothers and sisters being half pug and all, so I should be more magnanimous and offer my very, very valuable services.

So. Lesson 1. Stay out of pugs’ way when we’re near the ladies. This will avoid an embarassing faux pas like we had in NYC this past weekend.

Lesson 2… you’re trendy. That’s cool. But remember, trendy means overbreeding, and overbreeding means genetic disorders and hip displaysia. No, seriously! So, my advice to you? If you like your genetic code, and you like your hips undisplaysed (or whatever that is), then stop being cute. Consider a couple of baby attacks or something (take a page from pit bulls… they knew how to get untrendy pretty quick, yo).

Anyways, that’s all there is for today my puggle friends. Remember, always be kind to your mentor… treats are always a good way to express your gratitude.

NYC Champ

Check me out… I’m a NYC champ, yo.

New York was awesome… it was a quick trip since we were just there for the weekend, but I managed to learn a few things. First, NYC is awesome for dogs. I scored some serious dog park action in both Central Park and Union Square.

I also learned something at Union Square’s dog park… and I hesitate to mention this, given the mantra I’ve recited about being a place for all people and canines to live together in harmony… but I really think puggles suck.

I know… such language! Let me tell you why these half-wits get on my nerves. First of all, they’re certainly halfway to being cool, being half pugs. However, the half beagle part of ‘em messes everything up. The faces aren’t nearly as squished, the brains aren’t nearly as developed, and frankly… they’re a bit annoying.

Oh, this nothing to do with the fact that a hot girl pushed me out of the way to check out a nearby puggle. Nope. That has nothing to do with my issues with puggles. Not at all.

I understand puggles are in league with worldwide terrorists though. They’re bent on destruction of all cultures… mark my words… they’re out for something that’s no good, that’s for damn sure.

And again, this has nothing to do with getting the heisman* from a cute girl who was deluded in thinking a nearby puggle was cuter and was more deserving attention than myself.

Anyways, check out my flickr page for more NYC shots. The city so nice they named it twice, yo!


* for my international readers – and those of you Americans who otherwise don’t get the reference – “the heisman” is a reference to the collegiate Heisman Trophy, awarded to the best college football player of the year. The trophy depicts a football player giving a stiff arm. Getting a proverbial stifff arm block from someone is, “the heisman.” And thus endeth the lesson on that…