The Ruffles Report

Note: This is a backdated post that I had started in October ’09 but never finished… enjoy!

Smells! We four-legs have noses that are 10, 100, possibly even a million times more powerful than even the best two-legs nose. As a schnauzer, I may not have the best nose, but it is pretty darn good (my ancestors were ratters and those critters like to burrow). Our noses were designed for smelling. We have deep folds and pockets to trap odors and particulates, huge clusters of nerve endings all around to quickly past the smells to our brain, and those little slits on the sides of our nose, those are so when we exhale, we do not blow the scent away from directly in front of us. Pretty sweet. So when I got to my new home I was overwhelmed.

A cleaned house still has plent of old smells.

My two-legs and I had just pulled up to the apartment and already I was pretty excited. I love new places and was sick of the smells in his car (dust, fast food, and funk) and was itching to run my sniffer over this place. The previous tenants had done a decent job cleaning up, but they were no match for me…

There was a chair there, a rug here, the dog slept over here, and had an accident over there. Someone dropped perfume on the rug in the bedroom. Oh, a bit a dried old food (nom nom nom). And so on and so forth until my olfactory senses were pooped.

This place was big too, probably as big as the first two places in Seattle combined. Good solid hardwood floors for playing and running, soft carpet in the bedroom for napping. And with no furniture there except 3 boxes and my dog bed, I had the run of the house!

oh, oh, oh, and there is an outside. For the first time since I lived in San Jose I finally have a way outside on my own. Of course, it only leads to a little concrete path that runs three quarters around the house but it is better than nothing. I can do my business on my own schedule now. My two-legs has no power over me.

Furniture comes in a few days, then all of these old smells will slowly be replaced by my two-legs smells. The memories of old fade and give way to new smell memories (smemories?).

Until then, I am going to keep snorting and sniffing and sucking up all the delicious aromas I can.

When last we left our hero (me), he had just been separated from bro and put into the car for what would ultimately be the longest car journey he had ever taken. Read on…

Thank the maker for giving me the ability to nap for hours end. I would have gone crazy if I had to stay up for that whole drive. My two-legs on the other hand did have to stay up the entire time, but I think he is crazy anyway so it just added to it. In spite of the old saying, sometimes it is the destination and not the journey that are important. Take for instance our journey. The first half (the pretty half where you go through forests and quaint towns) was all done under cover of darkness. While moonlight treetops are nice to look at for a while, it gets boring. Good timing two-legs…

My bed was in the passenger seat. Gave me a good view (when I wasn't sleeping).

The second half (the ugly half were you drive through straight sun-burnt valleys) was all done in the middle of the day in the blazing hot sun. Oh two-legs, you never learn. This is how I spent my time (see picture at right).

I was stressed, needless to say. I think I had a bone for stress chewing, but it did not help. My time was divided between sleeping and pouting. I probably was not a very good passenger, but whatever, my two-legs stole me away from my home. And who is the boss of whom anyway!

The road just seemed to stretch on forever. A never ending march to a destination unknown.

My two-legs hates to stop too, we stopped my three times on the whole way down, and that was just because he had to refuel. Not because his puppy was bored and wanted to run around and smell things. He never cares what I want to do.

*Sigh*

Ok, maybe I am being a touch melodramatic. I suppose if I rack my brain I could think of a few good things…. hmmm….

There were some good smells at the rest stops, mostly urine, not all of it human. I saw a few birds, smelt some bovines, sheepies, emus, et cetera, along the road. I got a sunburn. Yeah, that was not fun. My two-legs cut my hair too short before we left, then let me sit in the sun in the car for hours… it was to be expected.

Sometimes there were exciting things. The almond trees behind me are not one of them. (note my sunburn)

Coming through the mountain range and into the LA Basin our vehicle died. Putt, putt, putt, pfft. sssssssss.

But it was just a minor snag, my two-legs knows how to get his clunker going again. Some time, some water, some more time, and drive really slowly. We eventually managed to crest over the range and coasted into the basin. Phew!

Near the end of our journey I did start to get excited. My two-legs started to perk up and I felt like we were actually headed somewhere.

And we were headed somewhere. Somewhere new. Somewhere exciting. Somewhere I had never been and would in short order be calling my new home.

Santa Monica.

My new home.

{note: This post was originally drafted in October but updated in June of 2010 and finally published. Hence the backdating.}

I feel like every time I sit down to bang out a post, I have to start off by first apologizing for not posting more. I have excuses though, and this time good ones. Last month I was stricken with an illness that is all too common for us four-legs. Kennel Cough. The hacking, the wheezing, the licking up my own phlegm. I was not pleasant to be around. I had a pretty mild case but it really stuck with me, I just could not shake it.

So then my two-legs (technically the skirted-one) took me to the V-E-T. Yeah, they spelled it out to try to trick me, but I am smart enough to form simple sounds into words. I do have a brain. Anyway, that involved some booster shots, some probing, some sitting on a cold metal table while a strange two-legs examined me. The one silver lining is that it was confirmed that I am no longer a fattie. Hooray for being average weight! The icing on the cake is that big-little-bro is actually now the fattie. He could stand to lose about 5 lbs. Ha! Fattie.

For the past couple weeks I have honestly been too stressed to do much of anything. It all started mid August when my two-legs left me with a stranger for a few days. Then, when they came back my two-legs never left the house. He was just puttering around the house. Cleaning stuff, sometimes putting things into boxes. Something was definitely happening, but I just could not put my paw on it. Suddenly, in a flurry of activity this past weekend, our beautiful home was suddenly picked up an boxed away. They even tried to but me in a box!

I do not deserve this kind of treatment.

Every time they left the apartment it felt like it would be for the last time. I cried and cried. And pooped on the carpet (they did not appreciate that).  Then, two big burly two-legs came and took everything. All my toys, all my bones, the comfy couch, the bed, everything! The apartment was empty except for the skirted-one, my two-legs, and two sad, worried puppies (and tonnes of big-little-bro’s fur. Just look at the contrast where the bed was):

That dark stuff? Dirt and fur. Puppies are messy.

And then, we all left. Separately. My two-legs and I went to his car and the skirted-one and big-little-bro to theirs. I would not see them again for days.

This is all getting too emotional and I will have to break the post here. I will finish up the exciting conclusion in Part Two: It is Not the Journey.

My humblest apologies for the lack of updates. But I have a great excuse… and pictures to boot!

I used to get spoiled before I lived with my two-legs. I could anything I wanted. But now I have to scrounge. I only get his hand me downs. Take my computer for instance. You would think a hip young pup like myself would be rocking a MacBook Air or something. I do have an Apple computer, I suppose I should be happy about that. But being forced to this this jury-rigged computer is just sad:

A beatup PowerBook G4. My window to the world

My two-legs has had this since before I even existed. Both of the hinges have broken off so the screen just flops around like a dead fish. He “fixed” it by adding decorative string and gaffers tape to hold the screen up. Classy eh?

What’s more, his rigging put serious stress on the screen power cords. Now, every few minutes the screen shuts off. I then have to close the lid and reopen it, hoping it will come back on. If not, I close and reopen. Repeat ad nauseum. I think the power brick cord has a short in it… I keep burning my little paws.

Ugh! Forced to use inferior products.

So I have been pouting, and dealing. You have no idea how long it takes to get stuff done when you have to constantly open and close your laptop, are only surfing the Internet with Wireless B speeds, and have to download photos with a USB 1.1 speed port. Slooooooooow let me tell you.

I have a new system in place though. I just log on to my two-legs nice computer when he is at work. Ha! Suck on that two-legs.

Stay tuned for more of TheRufflesReport!

It is no surprise that my two-legs does not like people. Scratch that. He likes watching and observing people, but that generally means you have to be around them… unless you have either powerful binoculars or a camera with a paparazzi-style lens (which he does on both counts). One of the largest gatherings of “people” in the Seattle area is Hempfest. Year after year, waves upon waves of dirty, pot smoking hippies swarm to Seattle’s Myrtle Edwards Park to smoke pot support legalization, express their love for brownies humanity, build up a customer base grassroots movement, and overall just hang out and listen to noise music.

This was my two-legs second year in attendance. And while four-legs are not technically allowed, everyone there was too high to stop us. Read on.

Phase 1: Infiltration

Like a swarm of red-eyed locusts they descend.

We began by scouting around the primary entrance. This was midday on Saturday. It was packed to the brim. Myrtle Edwards Park is a perfect place to cage hippies. To the West is Puget Sound. Hippies hate water (just go smell one). To the East is a set of railroad tracks, bordered with high fences. At the North end are two small footpaths, one of which crosses aforementioned tracks. And to the South is the primary entrance. Pictured above. We opted to walk the extra mile up to the northern, less heavily guarded entrance. Along the way we met this charming fellow:

A small contingent of hippies trekked with us.

He was taking a break from HempFest to try to find a place to get some beer around here. We directed him to a Shell station half a mile back. Cottonmouth is a dangerous health hazard that affects many fest-goers. As we talked with the hippies we seemed to gain their trust. It is easy for me to blend in with a crowd. I am small, and my hair was pretty shaggy that day. My two-legs is a different story. If there was every a poster boy for a dorky narc, he is it. Add to that the fact he was carrying his giant camera with him. I was so embarrassed.

Phase 2: The chicken is in the Pot

This is the "tame" side of the event

We entered the loosely fenced off area and began to soak up the fun. Pretty standard fare if you ask me. Lots of two-legs, just wandering aimlessly around. Sometimes stopping to look at hemp clothes and bongs, or stand and sway for a few moments in front of the many music stands where generic beats keep tempers low. Mellow man.

Out of the pier, away from the hippies, provides a pretty good shot.

We typically stayed toward the fringes of the event. This was out on the fishing pier. Hippies on the rocks, hippies on the ground, hippies in tents. There was no escape. The big grey thing is the grain tower. The weird art deco thing is the Space Needle. The largest white tent was playing rave music, not typically hippie fare, unless they need to swing those tennis balls in socks like they like to do. The breeze was blowing the sweet smell of freedom inland.

Phase 3: Mary Jane and Me

We were about halfway through, sticking to the coast.

This is probably about half a mile from the last picture. Definitely headed into pot infested waters up ahead. Most of the canopies belong to food vendors. Delicious food. It was really odd though, my sense of smell could not really pick up on any tasty treats, a local source was overpowering it. I did manage to score half a brownie when my two-legs was not looking. Pretty tasty.

This was what my two-legs saw. I just saw ankles.

And then we were trapped. No movement. No direction. Just people. More and more kept piling on behind us. And no one seemed to care. They all just sort of shuffled around and chatted and toked. No pushing. No yelling. Just “This is really strange, man.” and “Do you think we’ll start moving.” We were now about 1000 feet from freedom the main entrance. It turns out, so many people were trying to come in, and so many other people were to leave, it just sort of bottle-necked. And then all order collapsed. My two-legs stood there for a while, then realized nothing was happening, and he was not high so milling around is no fun. We then did a 180 to make it back to the North entrance.

Phase 4: Escape

Going back was basically just like coming in. Push through the hippies.

My two-legs has a pretty good eye for composition. The banner in the background with the event title. The giant pot leaf. And two-legs from all walks of life. Old guy. Shirtless dude. Teeny boppers. Psychedelic shirt guy. Middle aged hippies. Truly all the colors of the rainbow here.

Getting out was pretty easy. Bobbed and weaved. Inhale deeply. Check out the scenery.

This two-legs was making crazy sounds come out of this stick. It fascinated the hippies.

Phase 5: Rest

All in all it was pretty darn fun. I got to explore all afternoon with my two-legs and he got to take pictures and observe other two-legs. And the best part is big-little-bro did not get to come. Karma for all the times the skirted-one takes him on walks without me. I will bet he never gets to taste colors like I did.