They were dogs, ordinary dogs, pooches, mutts, pampered poodles, and they had had enough.

“Well, I want to hear what Huckleberry Hound has to say before I make up my mind,” said Old Yeller.

“Huckleberry Schmuckleberry!’ barked Rin-tin-tin. “We’ve taken one insult after another from these people. If we don’t do something now another 1,400 years will go by! What will our great-great-grand pups think of us? I’m for gnawing! We’re as good as any cat that’s ever lived and twice as good as any stinky old camel that Mohammed rode when he was killing Jews and stripping us of our rights!”

“Better watch your blood pressure,” warned Old Yeller.

“I’m so mad I could gnaw the seat out of Ramadan’s underpants!” growled Rin-tin-tin.

“You’d better not try that,’ said Rover. “You could get lockjaw.”

“Yeah…or mumps,” said Fido.

“Quiet!” urged Daisy. “Lassie is about to speak!”

The Pit-Bull-at-arms had appeared at center stage. He beat his baton on the lectern. “Attention please!” he barked. “Madame President will now address the first annual meeting of Dogs United for Freedom and Justice From Islam.”

The woofing ceased. “Madame President,” announced the Pit-Bull.

“Thank you,” said Lassie. “I’ve just come from Timmy’s funeral so I beg your forbearance if I break down and howl occasionally. You all know how difficult it is to lose a master.”

“Not a Muslim master,” growled Rin-tin-tn.

“Quiet!” barked the Pit-Bull-at-arms.

“There is good news and there is bad news,” announced Lassie. “The Muslim outrage over poor little Rebel’s appearance on that police postcard is not as bad as was first reported. As you all know, the Tayside Police Department passed out cards to the shopkeepers in Dundee with Rebel posing between a policeman’s hat and a telephone with a number to call in case of an emergency. Mohammed Asif, a member of the Dundee Council, objected to the card. It was reported in the newspapers that Muslim shopkeepers were upset because Islam considers canines ritually unclean and they would not display such an advertisement. Asif said the police should have understood.”

“The police?” scoffed Marmaduke. “Who? Inspector Clouseau?”

“If you will excuse the expression,” said Lassie, “the police immediately turned tail an apologized. They said it was an oversight on their part. If they had suspected it was going to cause heartbreak and religious trauma they wouldn’t have done it.”

“If you can’t trust a policeman, who can you trust?” growled Rin-tin-tin.

“The police said they did not seek to offend or upset Muslims,” said Lassie.

“Unclean?” said a puzzled Pluto. As usual, he was a minute or two behind. “How could I be unclean? I’m exactly the same as I was the day Mr. Disney created me. I can’t be unclean! I couldn’t be cleaner! Mr. Disney saw to that! I ask you, who had a more wonderful imagination, Mr. Disney or Mohammed? Mr. Disney created Disneyland. What did Mohammed create? A whorehouse with 72 virgins…and God did that for him! And you have to die to get there! What kind of Heaven is that?”

“Yeah,” barked Marmaduke. “Only a fool would choose Allah’s Heaven over Disneyland.”

“Most Muslims would choose Disneyland over Allah’s anything,” said Dogwood.

“If you want something unclean,” said Rover, “think of this: a woman in a niqab, covered from head to toe, poking through a pile of stinky three-day-old fish in a bazaar in Damascus with the temperature at 110 degrees.”

“Why did Mohammed hate us so much?” asked Daisy. “Why did he say so many nasty things about us?”

“Let’s ask Baskerville,” said Snoopy.

“Yeah, let’s ask Baskerville,” said Poodles. And the cry went up, “Baskerville! Baskerville!”

In a moment Baskerville was up and rubbing his eyes. “Mohammed?” he mumbled. “Why does Mohammed hate us?” He found his pince-nez, perched it on the tip of his nose. “You want to know why Mohammed hated us canines? Well, for one thing… he was a religious nut.”

“Shush!” warned Lassie. “You could be sent to the dog pound for saying something like that. This is England!”

Baskerville ignored the warning. “Mohammed had some weird ideas,” he explained. “He actually believed that if a canine passed in front of a Muslim while the Muslim was praying, the prayer was nullified. He thought that if a canine passed within a distance of a stone’s throw of a praying Muslim, the prayer was annulled. And he had a gross misunderstanding of the relationship between canines and angels. He believed—as silly as it may seem—that canines kept angels away from houses. That not even Gabriel would enter a house where a canine was staying; in fact he got to the point where he thought no angel would enter a house where there was a picture of a canine. Can you imagine that?”

“Not even a picture?” gasped Scooby Do.

“Fascist! Fascist!” barked Rin-tin-tin.

Baskerville sighed. “Mohammed also said an angel would not accompany a traveler if the traveler was accompanied by a canine with a bell.”

“A bell?” gasped Scooby Do.

“Yes, a bell,” said Baskerville. “Mohammed said the bell was the music of Satan.”

“If angels are afraid of canines,” said Goofy, “couldn’t the Prophet have dispensed with angels and used something else…like leprechauns?”

“Ah…if only Mohammed had been bright enough to realize that,” said Baskerville. “But when Gabriel refused to go into Mohammed’s house because the Prophet had a puppy under his cot, Mohammed went mad and ordered all dogs killed—an order he later rescinded.”

“How did Gabriel know there was a puppy under Mohammed’s cot if he didn’t go into the house?” asked Goofy.

“You are doubting the angel Gabriel?” gasped Scooby Do.

“Angels are psychic,” said Wonder Dog.

“It could have been an imposter,” said Goofy. “It could have been Black Pete.”

“My, my,” said Baskerville. “You may have hit upon something, Goofy. Would you care to carry your thesis to its proper conclusion?”

“I should say not!” said Goofy.

“Suppose…” said Baskerville, “just suppose there never was an angel Gabriel…”

“Never was an angel Gabriel?” gasped Scooby Do.

“Suppose…” continued Baskerville, “suppose Bukhari 7:843 never happened; suppose Muslim 5279 never happened, suppose these incidents were created out of whole cloth, made up—imagined…Suppose Mohammed way lying, was in delirium tremens, was hallucinating…”

“Here! Here!” cried Walgreen. “You are speaking heresy! You will get us all killed!”

“Killed?” gasped Scooby Do.

Rin-tin-tin was furious. He bared his teeth—large, strong, powerful teeth, teeth made for gnawing. “So what are we gong to do,” he barked, “wait for them to kill us?”

“Oh, they won’t kill all of us,” said Baskerville. “They need us go guard their sheep and to hunt. It says so in the Qur’an. They will kill the black dogs.”

“Poor Rebel!” cried Schnauzer.

“Certainly you must have some suggestions, Baskerville,” said Lassie. “Something we can do…some steps we can take…”

Baskerville adjusted his pince-nez. “Hair dye,” he said. “I would suggest all Black Labs dye their hair. And one must not discount a good education. Get a good education. There are a number of excellent schools. Canine guards are in great demand. The dhimmis think we can protect them from their enemies though it is they that should be protecting us from Islam. Those who have the means should immigrate to America. Me…I have become a Scientologist. I haven’t a care in the world.”

“A Scientologist?” gasped Scooby Do.

“Why do we hold these meetings?” growled Marmaduke. “We never do anything. We grumble for an hour or two and then somebody suggests we take a break for Kibbles and Bits and that’s the end of it. We should stand up for our rights! We should march on Riyadh!”

“We should go to gnawing!” growled Rin-tin-tin.

Lassie could see that things were getting out of control. She beat the gavel on the lectern. “This meeting is closed!” she announced. “Timmy’s grandkids need me.”

“When’s the next meeting?” asked Snoopy.

Lucifer, the Recording Secretary, studied his blank appointment book. “Well,” he said, “this was our first meeting in 1,400 years. How about 1,400 years from now?”

“Say, where’s Cujo?” asked Old Yeller.

Fido glanced over his shoulder. He swallowed nervously. “Well…” he hesitated. “You know that keg of brandy he carries around his neck…well…” He looked over his shoulder again and lowered his voice. “He’s either getting drunk or…peeing in a Muslim footbath.”

“Peeing in a Muslim footbath?” gasped Scooby Do.

“Ah,” sighed Baskerville. “ If only we all had his kind of courage…

And that was the end of the first and last meeting of Dogs United for Freedom and Justice From Islam. There would be no Chihuahua Tea Party.