Mr. End of an Age

It seems like yesterday that... no, I'm not thinking of when Bug was born and then pronounced incurably bad - and, no I'm not talking about when we thought Bug had been poisoned by a disillusioned follower - and, no I'm not refering to the time when we, like Frodo at the Crack of Doom, tried, considering only the greater good, to rid this world of evil ...I'm recalling to mind the day that Bug invented a device that would change the lives of biometrically identified Dachshunds everywhere.

Of course his dream (this was, in fact his second dream - his first born on the day Bug vowed never to work a day is his long little life) has come to a sad end. But why! Why did it have to end!

I can easily recall Bug's first day on the job - I remember it because it was a particularly cold day; I remember good times, bad times, even some wierd times; I remember Bug's first promotion, and I rember his rise to the top.

But why did it all come crashing down? I feel certain it was not a result of Bug's management style, nor his relationship management; definitely not his PR strategy, his crazy product ideas, or even his occassionl reclusive spells.

Though I think we'll have to leave it a mystery why Bug, in the end, had to pack it up, he'll remember the good times.

Mr. Ziploc

Sometimes you just need to be aggressive. The world isn't always going to present itself before you. Occassionally you find that you just need to stick your head into the metaphorical feedbag of life and go at it.



Even if that means a Ziploc of dog food in someone's purse.

Mr. Aphid

Can you spot the Bug in the garden?




Ah yes, here he is. Because Dachshunds are cold-blooded, they need lots of sun.