Cleaning up the city

The fog hung heavy over Gotham. It was cold out, and my heavy breathing only added to the eerie haze. As I sat on a gargoyle, scanning the street 300 feet below, I knew that this was my city. Sure, the gangsters and drug pushers and thieves might have their momentary victories, but their ill-gotten gains would only be temporary. They could run from me. They could hide from me. But they could no more escape justice than I could escape my monthly bathtime.

Bat Cave compromised?

I’m probably just being paranoid, but I have a sinking feeling that one of the countless criminal enemies I’ve made in this city may have found the location of my Bat Cave. I’ve been shedding a lot lately, and I suspect he followed the trail of fur back to my secret lair. Let’s hope he’s too big to fit through the doggy door.

The world is fraught with peril

I’m going to have to give Robin a serious talking-to today. It’s downright embarrassing to go out to fight criminals and find that my cape is in tatters. I’ve got to get the Pup Wonder a new chew toy …

The origin of Batpug

Many probably wonder why I do it, why I have dedicated my life to fighting crime. It’s not exactly the most practical, or some would say rational, career choice. Well, the seeds of Batpug were planted when I was just a pup. I had gone to the theater with my parents and the rest of my litter. It was late, almost midnight, when the show ended. We made our way through a dark alley, turning away from the crowd on the sidewalk to take a shortcut back to our home. I heard footsteps behind us, the unmistakable thud of human feet mixing with the dripping of water from a broken A/C unit. We turned to find a gun barrel mere inches from our concave faces. My innocence was forever lost that day, and I knew that I would do everything in my power to avenge not just that night’s crime, but every crime that sullied the streets of Gotham. And if I ever encounter the mugger who stole my family’s Milkbones that night, there will be hell to pay.

Eggstra, eggstra ...

I busted that maniac supercriminal Egghead today. After dragging him down to the jailhouse, I got a rude reception from the police. They tried to arrest me for vigilantism. The idiots – do they have any idea where this city would be without me? Egghead is a true evil genius; he must know at least a dozen puns involving the word “egg.” The police are wholly incapable of competing against that kind of elite supervillain. Even the top detectives in the department probably don’t know more than four or five egg puns, tops.

Anyway, the police were waving their firearms and trying to get me to surrender. They left me no choice but to knock them unconscious with Bat Spray while I made my escape. You know what they say: Sometimes, you’ve gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet.

Riddle me this

That maniac the Riddler struck again today. Why they keep letting him out of the asylum, I’ll never understand. He rigged a pair of city buses to explode. The only way to stop it was to enter the proper code within two hours – a code only obtainable by solving a series of ridiculous riddles. Thankfully, my language skills are pretty good for a pug, and I got the code in time. God help us all if the Riddler ever discovers Sudoku.

I walk alone

The media have been relentless. The local newspaper runs a steady stream of editorials calling for my arrest. The nightly newscast makes me look like a lunatic – no better than the thugs I put away. Sure, vigilantism is technically illegal. But where would this city be without me? I’m not asking for the keys to the city, but a little respect would be nice. And maybe an occasional belly rub.

Brush with death

We had a close call today. The Joker managed to capture Robin and me. His goons tied us up and suspended us over a shark-filled tank. He set a timer to lower us into the water after 60 minutes. We were staring death in the face. Then, inexplicably, the Joker and his men all left. Needless to say, escaping was easy at that point. Robin has been known to eat entire sofa cushions and chair legs, so chewing through those ropes was no big deal.

Trouble at the asylum

The inmates at the local insane asylum rioted last night, taking several nurses and security guards hostage. The inmates – half of whom were criminal maniacs that I’d put away – said they’d only spare the hostages if I made an appearance. They gave me one hour to show up, or they’d start doing God-knows-what to their prisoners. I was there in 20 seconds.

My hackles stood on end as I walked the dark hallways. A few of the inmates – those not involved in the plot – were still in their cells, yelling unintelligible curses at me. I disarmed a couple of punks guarding the stairway and made my way to the second floor, where I encountered heavy resistance. The inmates were waiting for me, but that doesn’t mean they were in any way prepared. I cut through them like a knife through hot butter. Finally, I was face to face with the ringleader of the uprising, the criminal mastermind Scarecrow. I’d foiled one of his maniacal plots a couple of years before and dropped him off at the jailhouse, which ultimately led him to the asylum. I guess he held a grudge. The fact that I knocked him flat on his behind with my Bat Taser last night and then hogtied him probably wouldn’t help in that regard.

The Scarecrow had much the same idea as me when he adopted his costumed persona: To spread fear. But unless he was plotting to rob a flock of birds in a field, his efforts fell flat. If he only had a brain …

Just say no

A major drug epidemic is gripping the mean streets of Gotham. I’ve spotted dozens of feline junkies stumbling around on the stuff; it seems that the street name is “catnip.” These tweaking junkies are really creeping me out with their erratic behavior. Cats are strange enough under the best of circumstances – the weird head bumping, the obsessive-compulsive paw cleaning, the unprovoked biting. The last thing they need is to be under the influence of a controlled substance. I’ve got to find out who’s shoveling this junk on the streets and shut him down, before someone gets clawed.

Incident at PetSmart

A maniac took over the local PetSmart today. He took canine and human customers hostage and was wiring the whole place with explosives. The depravity of man never ceases to amaze me. Robin and I sneaked in through an air vent; thankfully, the gunman didn’t hear my breathing as I crawled overhead. Once on the ground, I peaked around a corner and saw the gunman placing a backpack of C4 explosives in the rawhide aisle. Clearly, he was trying to draw me into a fight. And I was happy to oblige. A growl bellowed from the pit of my stomach as I lunged at the punk, knocking his uzi to the ground. He took off running. Just after he rounded the corner, I heard a loud “smack!.” The punk was out cold after slipping on a puddle of urine and banging his head on the floor. Well done, Robin.

Brrrrrrr ...

I had a big showdown with Mr. Freeze today. Thank God I was wearing my fur coat.

Robin caught in dicey situation

I don’t usually let Robin accompany me on late-night crime-fighting missions, especially on a school night. He’s just a puppy, after all. But last night, I made an exception. That’s because I had a credible tip about a van that would be transporting stolen goods. It started in the warehouse district and ended up in a dark alley near the waterfront. It was right next to the IHOP – love those pancakes. Anyway, we stealthily followed this truck and then watched four goons start to unload the goods.

I gave Robin the signal, and we swooped in on our Bat Ropes. I engaged two of the punks and quickly incapacitated them, one with my Bat Spray and another with a roundhouse kick to the face. Then I turned to see how Robin was doing with the other two, and what I saw was horrifying: He was chasing his tail, completely ignoring the perps. How embarrassing.

Putting the 'bat' in Batpug

Robin asked me today how I chose the Batpug persona, how I arrived at such a perfect way to strike terror into the hearts of criminals. It got me thinking about those early days when I first set out to be a costumed crimefighter. I had honed my stocky yet chiseled body into the ultimate weapon. I had also trained my mind, learning every trick imaginable – handshake, roll over, ninjitsu. Yet I knew that wouldn’t be enough. Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot, this much I knew. So I needed a way to tap into their fears. I needed to be a creature of the night, black, terrible ... As I considered and then rejected different costume possibilities – Ostrichpug, Ladybugpug, Poodlepug – I heard a loud crash. Glass rained down on the living room floor, and I looked up to see that a large bat had flown through the window. You might think that I made my decision to be Batpug right then and there, but you’d be wrong. First, I called the exterminator.

No job is too small

I was training with my BatKong, pushing it down a dark alleyway. It helps keep the reflexes quick, which is crucial when facing the low-lifes of Gotham. And it also allows me to eat Milkbone chunks as they fall out, giving me energy to stay up all night. That's not easy for a pug, you know. All of a sudden, I heard a woman's scream. Well, I thought it was a woman. After I ran two blocks, I realized that it was a man. And he was in trouble. So I helped him change his flat tire and wished him a pleasant evening.

Batpug reviews 'The Dark Knight'

I finally got around to seeing the summer blockbuster "The Dark Knight." My butler, er, I mean, my friends had been urging me to see it. Said I might be able to relate to it. So I caught a matinee at the local dollar movie theater before embarking on a night of crime-fighting.

The movie was pretty entertaining, but I couldn't shake the feeling that some Hollywood writers were trying to rip off my story. First of all, the hero's name was "Batman." Now sure, it only shares half the letters, but that's awfully similar to my moniker, "Batpug." Then there's the title of the movie -- "The Dark Knight." This seems like an obvious play on my nickname, "The Bark Knight." If I weren't so busy taking criminal scum off the streets, I might consult a copyright attorney.

Having said that, the movie came closer than most to demonstrating the new breed of lunatic supervillain that now confronts society. Have I mentioned that my nemesis the Penguin has a weaponized umbrella, for God's sakes? Heath Ledger brought a chilling touch of lunatic evil to the role.

My biggest quibble with the movie, copyright infringement issues aside, was the ridiculous low-pitched rasp that Batman used to deliver his lines. I guess he was trying to growl like the big dog, but it just wasn't effective. For those dozen or so of you who haven't yet seen the film, I think this sums it up best:

Batpug welcomes new sidekick

I've worked hard to cultivate an air of mystery, of intimidation. From my bat-like cowl to a flowing cape that lets me become one with the shadows, my entire crime-fighting persona is based on striking fear into the heart of Gotham's criminals. It's one thing to bring a street punk to justice; it's another thing entirely to have his fellow gang members give up a life of crime because of the sheer terror they see in their erstwhile partner in law-breaking. The nightmares of this creature of the night -- half pug, half bat. Perhaps a third muskrat. They don't know; that's the whole point. I swoop in from the night sky, administer justice and fear, and then vanish, leaving Gotham's tabloid rags to spread the sketchy details of my deeds.

Today, good citizens of Gotham, I have a new weapon in the fight against evildoers. For the first time, the Bark Knight does not ride alone. I welcome my new sidekick, Robin, to the fray. Because nothing is more terrifying than a puppy in a Speedo.

It's hard out here for a pug

A couple of cops yelled at me and tried to arrest me tonight, angry that I incapacitated that maniac Two-Face. A vigilante, they called me. A menace. Yeah, right. Two-Face is a certified nut job. He flips a coin before making decisions, for God's sake. How could the police ever hope to contend with that? They'd be completely overmatched against that kind of elite supervillain. No, this was a job for Batpug. And a thankless one at that. Such is the life of a caped, collared crusader.

A day in the life

I roughed up a couple of street punks tonight. They were mugging an old lady in downtown Gotham, stealing her MedicAlert bracelet. Can you believe the nerve of those thugs? What would that poor, dear woman do if she fell and couldn't get up? Needless to say, I didn't show a whole lot of mercy while dispatching bat-justice. Yessir, they're going to feel those scratches in the morning.

Help me foil the Riddler's plot

I've been tracking my old nemesis the Riddler, who stole a priceless book of ancient wisdom and a can of spray paint from the Gotham Museum of Art. I found his hideout and dispatched with some of his goons, but the Riddler escaped. All he left behind was this blonde joke. It is hilarious, yes, but what ... does .. it ... mean? Somewhere hidden within the punchline is the clue to the Riddler's whereabouts. Can you help?

Unleash my fury

I just got back from one of my after-dark neighborhood patrols. I like to walk the streets, make my presence known to the local low-lifes. In a cul-de-sac near my house, I caught the scent of a suspected prowler. I gave the ground a thorough sniffing, trying to pinpoint his location. He was nearby. I cracked my pug knuckles, ready to give this miscreant a well-deserved thrashing. After donning my Bat Thermal Goggles, I turned from the sidewalk and began to walk toward the house, where the punk was probably trying to break in or peep through the window. But then the leash stopped me in my tracks. I tried to pull, but my parents wouldn't budge. "Come on, Batpug," they said, giving a slight tug. "Let's go this way. Stay on the sidewalk." So whatever that creep was up to, he probably got away with it. Next time, I'll be patrolling alone.

The unsung hero

The local police announced last week that crime here in Gotham was down across the board over the last year. Homicides down 20 percent, overall crime down 5 percent. Not a bad 2005. But the commissioner had better be careful not to strain a muscle patting himself on the back. He and I both know that when things go bad, he'll need his strength to flip that switch on the Bat Signal. Am I angry that the police are taking all the credit, making no mention of the real reason for the lower crime rate? No. My shroud of mystery makes me that much more effective as I clean up these filthy streets. In addition to forging my stocky but chiseled body into a fearsome weapon, I employ psychological warfare techniques. Last night, I trailed a scared dope dealer for five blocks. I hung from a Batrope above him, the sound of my heavy breathing putting the fear of God in him before I finally swooped in to administer justice.

It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it

Sometimes I wonder why I do it. I catch one perp, and two more take his place. But if I don't, who will? Don't get me wrong -- I appreciate the police and what they do. Aside from the crooked ones, of course. But against this new breed of lunatic super villain, the police are overmatched. The Penguin has a weaponized umbrella, for God's sake. That's where I come in. I'm Batpug, and I'm not afraid to get my paws dirty. Evildoers, beware.