How I Saved My Pug From Michael Vick

About two months ago, I was having some trouble with money. I got myself into some pretty harsh credit card debt when I bought a whirpool tub for my backyard. My original plan was to charge 5 dollars each time a neighbor kid wanted to use it, but unfortunately one of them dropped a deuce in it and he must have eaten one too many brown eggs because that deuce was rock solid. It got wedged into the filter and caused a backup. Eventually there was a massive flood in my yard. It ended up causing damage to my patio too.

I needed cash to pay for the repair, but like I said, times were tough.

So I turned to my pug, Mug.

Here he is again in case you’ve forgotten of his natural, masculine beauty:

How stunning and genetically gifted is he??

Anyhow, I spoke with him about doing his part to help out, and he agreed that he needed to start pulling his own weight. He’s been sleeping roughly 19 hours a day lately, and I thought he could cut back to about 16 hours. Those 3 hours could be spent working.

I placed this ad in my local paper:

“Beautiful Pug seeking work. Willing and able. Put me to work. I like cheese and snausage. I have frequent itch in my genitalia, but I am very flexible. $11.00/hour. I love tiVo.”

I was flooded with phone calls the next day. A lot of people wanted him to work with handicapped children, but he wasn’t OK with that. Some elderly people simply wanted his companionship. He also wasn’t OK with that. One woman called about him working as an extra on the hit NBC drama “Heroes.” I don’t watch that show, though, so I said we should hold out for a program I watch. He agreed.

Finally, a man called and said he’d like Mug to do some modeling. He had some dog sweaters and berets he wanted to photograph, and he believed they would look terrific on my dog. I agreed and we set up a time for the man to pick up the Pug the next day.

When Mug returned after his three hours of work, he seemed lethargic. It was weird too because he was wearing a little referee outfit, not a cute sweater. The chest pocket had some tiny yellow flags in it. I thought he’d be modeling sweaters and berets. He also had a little whistle around his neck. It seemed odd, but the money he brought in was good, so I didn’t question it.

I only allowed him to work every other day, so the next day he rested quite a bit, but when he was awake, he’d often pound his paw onto the couch or hardwood floor three times rapidly. He also insisted on wearing his whistle, and when I wouldn’t share my human food with him, he’d blow that whistle or pull out one of the little yellow flags with his teeth and kind of spit it at me. I couldn’t figure out any of this behavior.

The next day, he was picked up again, but this time I followed him in my unmarked car. The Pug was driven to a house about an hour away. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Michael Vick open the front door and let Mug in. There was a sign on the front door that said, “Dog Fighting Satellite Center.”

I parked in the driveway and crept closer to the house. Nothing much was happening, but when I peered through the window, I saw Michael Vick talking to my dog in his underwear. Mug shook his head a lot during the conversation. Then I saw Michael Vick pleasure himself with the WNBA on in the background. I knew instantly that I was dealing with a seriously troubled man. I was about to bust in that door when I saw Michael Vick pass out. Then I noticed my Pug army crawling toward the door to the backyard. I went around the side of the house, and I saw him continuing to army crawl toward a row of kennels. To my horror, there were several cages filled with beautiful dogs. They looked sad, but when they saw the Pug coming toward them, they began to look more alive. I saw Mug chew through an iron box, and then he pushed a red button with his massive muffin head. All the kennel doors opened, and the dogs ran out. I opened the hatchback door to my car and motioned them to get in. Mug kept putting his paw up to his mouth, urging the dogs to be quiet. When they were safely in my hatchback, I signaled to Mug to hop in the front seat.

As he was army crawling toward the car, suddenly I heard the fierce yapping of a chiwawa. It was wearing a Vick jersey and snarling intensely. Its fierce yaps alerted Michael Vick to my presence. Michael Vick came outside, and I stared him down. I said, “I have freed all these dogs, and now I am taking the Pug. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Michael Vick said I was free to go, but he would never release the Pug. He said Mug had become his number one referee.

“I know of your weakness for dog fighting Michael Vick. I propose a dog fight between your chiuwawa and my Pug. If your wawa wins, I will allow Mug to live with you.”

Michael Vick could not resist this wager. He set up the cruel dog fighting ring. No refereeing. No holds barred.

The fight started with both dogs in the center of the ring. I swear I heard the little wawa say to my Pug, “I will break you.” Then the fight began. The wawa tried to headbutt Mug, but Mug’s face was too flat and massive. It made no difference. Mug did a leg sweep, causing the wawa to fall on his side. Then the wawa played dead and Mug went over to sniff him. When he began to lick the wawa, it sprang up and issued a punch to the Pug’s large belly. The pug stumbled a bit, but then he recovered and opened his huge eyes very wide. The wawa became entranced by them, and when he was good and stunned, Mug conked the wawa on both sides of his head with his front paws. It was an impressive battle.

Eventually, my Pug emerged as the victor, and Michael Vick was stunned and impressed. I demanded he give the wawa to me so that I could find it a good home. He agreed and said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t call the authorities. Little did he know that I had already called them.

Then me, the Pug, the wawa, and all the beautiful pitbulls drove back to my house and watched some tiVo. Just another day of me being me living my life.