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I protest!

July 16th, 2009 No comments

I know, I know, I have not posted in almost a week. It was just so boring around here. I made a promise to myself not bore you with the standard, everyday stuff (Well, not all the time at least). Things have started to pick up around here though, which is where my story begins…

My two-legs and the skirted-one have been acting odder than usual. I first noticed this on Monday. The skirted one was actually cleaning! She put away all of our toys and picked up stuff that had been sitting around for months. Odd, I thought, but not totally out of the norm. Then my two-legs comes home and dusts everything. Like June Cleaver or something. Ridiculous.

Tuesday was worse. I really started to get suspicious on Tuesday. He scrubbed the entire bathroom. Normally I would not have noticed as I hate going in there (except for water, which they insist on keeping next to the toilet, the other water bowl) but I started to smell some odd fumes pouring out of there. It was a completely new smell in there when he was done… smelled fresh. I think that is the first time it has smelled like that in there. Then he vacuumed. Boy did he vacuum. Everything. The floors, the beds, the couches, the chairs. There was no escape from the howling cylinder. Big-little-bro had some kind of ‘Nam flashback and started barking in nipping at it. Pretty entertaining to watch, good for a laugh (whilst I was cowering behind the skirted-one)

Then it came. Wednesday. What is traditionally an ordinary day, turned into something extraordinary. We had intruders guests. New two-legs came into our house and brought with them their new smells and willingness to pet us for hours. I am pretty sure they are big-little-bro’s grandparents. The skirted-one calls them “Ma” and “Pa”. They came late Wednesday and stayed up eating chips and drinking beers. They gave us rubs. I got to sit with “Pa.” Big-little-bro kept trying to give them kisses. It was wonderful.

This morning it was more of the same. Scratches, lounging, playing. They even took us to the puppy park this morning. And it is not even Saturday yet. Hooray! It was so nice. And then everyone left us… and it is so nice outside… And I am stuck here, not getting petted, not getting attention, not getting loved.

I am going to sit on the coffee table. That’ll show ‘em.

Yep, I am just going to sit here till they come home.

Yep, I am just going to sit here till they come home.

Becoming one with the Tubes

July 8th, 2009 1 comment

If you look directly to your right (note this will only work if this is the top post and/or you have not rotated your screen and/or my two-legs has not jacked up the theme again) you will notice that I have joined Twitter. That is right fair readers, now you can get constant, mundane thought-provoking little nuggets of randomness wisdom from your four-legged friend. Unlike some tweeters (looking at you polythink) I intend to post at least once a day. I am one step closer to becoming an Internet sensation.

If you direct your gaze further down the sidebar, you will notice a second Twitter account. “What? You’re going to post on two separate Twitter accounts?” No, gentle readers, you will only have to follow me in one place. I am trying to keep my Interweb chatter to a healthy minimum. There are however certain cold, dank corners of the Intertubes where shady, unscrupulous ilk live who like to impersonate innocent puppies, celebrities, organizations, and just about anyone they want. Sometimes this is unavoidable, for instance if you happen to have a common name. This happens to my two-legs all the time. With a surname of Taylor (15th most frequently occurring last name in 2000 census, down five spots from ’90) and a given name of Michael (most popular boy’s name in 1983 and 4th most frequent male first name in 1990 census) it can be quite difficult to find him amongst the plethora of Michael Taylors inhabiting the blogosphere and Twitterverse (my two-legs loves this slight edge of anonymity it gives him). Other times it is for far more malicious purposes meant to draw in unsuspecting Twits for nefarious purposes or to simply increase their follower/following count.

Ruffles is fairly uncommon surname. There are a number of Ruffleses out there, most appear to be in EU as they don’t show up in US Census data. But Ruffles is not my surname, it is my given name. I have yet to come across another being with a first name of Ruffles (OK, once there was this other four-legs at the dog park named Ruffles. She was a girl, and a schnauzer but things got complicated so I try to block it out). This should be a fairly easy process to find me. So, do a search for Ruffles on Twitter. I will wait. Done it? No? OK, I will help. Click here. Ok, scroll down the list, let us see here. The first three look legit, various two-legs with a last name of Ruffles. Hmm, Mr_Ruffles eh? PinkandRuffles? oh my… Ah, MrRuffles_ (not to be confused with Mr_Ruffles) appears to be a bunny. Normal. Normal. Normal. Normal. Normal. rufflesthedogg? Wait, my name is Ruffles. And I am a dog (though in my world dog has only one “g”). His “name” appears to be “Ruffles aka Ruff-Man.” Huh? My two-legs calls me Ruff-man. What is going on here? From Seattle? I live in Seattle. Ok, 11 updates over a brief 16 day period. Updates include talking about birds, napping, eating, sleeping, and more napping. That is exactly what I will post about!

There you have it. It appears that some ne’re-do-well has pilfered my identity! And they already have 14 followers! I have no followers…

So this is why I need you, my readers, to start following me. It is the only way for me to boost my ratings in the world of Twitter. I must oust this imposter from his lofty height of hit number 13 in a query for ruffles. Click on “Constant updates by me” header to the right where you will be taking a stirring page containing my updates and a tiny picture (with my crazy beard that my two-legs recently shaved off). If you do not have a Twitter account, sign up, it is easy. While I fully expect Twitter to wither and die in next few years (or explode and die which would be much cooler) it can still be fun to be on what is now the butter knife’s edge of technology.

On another Meta related note. It appears that my two-legs has been man-handling my themes again. I have him do it as I tried to myself and got confused with all the widgets and sidebars and skins and plug-ins and stuff. This new one is pretty cool I guess. Still not me though, ya know?

A message from Prof. Puppy

July 7th, 2009 No comments

I will bet that you did not know that I am quite the intellectual puppy. Look! I have the nerd glasses to prove it:

Professor Puppy reporting on Shark Baiting and other concerns

Professor Puppy reporting on Shark Baiting and other concerns

I, Professor Ruffles, would like to talk to you today about Internet rumors, social phenomenon, networking, and googling (as the kids call it). Earlier today, my two-legs received an unsolicited invitation on “Facebook” (an increasingly popular online social networking site and known time sink) to join a group called “Stop the usage of dogs as live bait for sharks!” My two-legs just ignored the request, as he does most of the requests and invites he gets (he is not terribly social but he is learning), I decided to hit up Google and see what I could learn.

http://www.google.com/search?q=baiting+sharks+with+dogs

The first hit is a to a National Geographic article written 4 years ago that appears to have gotten this whole thing started. This is the most oft quoted article and contains the bulk of information. It tells the story of a film crew for Fondation 30 Millions d’Amis (the Thirty Million Friends Foundation) who traveled to Réunion, a small French-controlled island off the southeast coast of Madagascar in the India Ocean. They found a few accounts of this happening, mostly local independent fisherman. They took photo and video, the most widely circulated is a 1min 10sec clip of a rescued 4-legs at a vet getting fixed up. The article also looks at the French government’s response and public outcry. The government believes it to be isolated incidents and reiterate that this practice is against the law and will not be tolerated. The article goes on to describe one local fisherman who was arrested and fined €5,000. Then there is information about petitions you can sign, organizations offering rewards, and other “What you can do” info at the end.

The next hit is Snopes.com. Snopes is a “urban legends reference page” that looks at rumors and legends and attempts to view them from a skeptical rational eye. I would deem them as pretty good at what they do but, like everyone, they can be wrong. In our case, they are mostly just unhelpful. The article has not been updated since 2005 (shortly after the NG article aired) and contains most of the same info. It also contains a letter from the US French Embassy reiterating France’s stance on the practice. Their stance (in case you forgot) is they are against it.

Further down the page we have links to the video I mentioned earlier. There are also links to various blogs, forums, and websites. Most tend to have the same information, peppered with moral outrage, and of course, the photo of the 4-legs with the snout piercing (which I opted to not repost here out of respect for my reader’s tummies). There are also a handful of petitions you can opt to sign.

For whatever reason, there appears to have been a surge of interest recently. Many blogs and forum postings are from early/mid June of 2009. My thought is that the Facebook group (I do not have an account so I cannot tell when the group was created) rekindled the interest of this unfortunate story and now you two-legs are just hurling the same outdated information around. As far as this young pup can tell this is a barbaric practice perpetuated by a small, deranged subset of local fisherman in a remote part of the world.

Here is what I think you two-legs should go out an do: find these monsters, stick hooks through their ankles, drag them through the ocean and see how they like it. Nothing. “Nothing?” Well, nothing in a loose sense of the word. Petitions and groups expressing your outrage and concern on a practice last reported to have happened in 2005 is all well and good but little can be done with that. The practice has already been banned. It is not accepted by the government. “Well,” you say, “I want the government to step up its enforcement.” Yes, that would be nice. However, the police (even the French police) cannot be everywhere at once. They certainly cannot be constantly trolling the waters of the Indian ocean in the dead of night (when it is said the fisherman set their traps for sharks). Even if they could, that is a great deal of petrol to burn. Besides, these people are criminals. Not just ordinary criminals but insane, heartless criminals with no regard for life (no matter the species). These people generally cannot be reasoned with, and any fine you give them will just make them work harder at baiting sharks to pay off the fine. I hear you say, “We could kill them.” Yes. Yes we could.

The most sensible, and least glamorous, is to stop the demand. Sharks fetch a high price in many markets and are often seen as a delicacy. Having never had shark, I would not know. And I plan to never know. I will not eat shark. “What if it is killed humanely?” you ask. My answer is probably still no. With so many other delicious things to eat why would I want shark? “But Ruffles,” you query, “I’m just one person. How do I get everyone to not eat shark.” Aha, therein is one of the thorny problems of this greater issue. Do you have the right to tell others what to do? And if so, where does the line end?

Indeed you two-legs often get upset by reports of people eating 4-legs or other animals you deem too cuddly to simply be eaten. However, other parts of the world have not had the same relationship with four-legs as most Western countries have had. To some, we are just another animal. But bear in mind, our practices in Western culture are not all sunshine and rainbows. Can you guess which creature that American two-legs eat a couple times a week is actually revered as a sacred animal. The cow! And what crazy sect of two-legs society believes the cow to be symbol of the earth? Hindus! I do not think Americans would react too kindly if Hindus started sending them letters and emailing petitions to stop eating our bovine brethren.

Two-legs and four-legs have come a long way since we domesticated each other. We have learned and loved our way through many millennia and we continue to grow closer every day. The world is not perfect. It never has been, it never will be. The “good” of the world is always marred by the few agents of “evil”. That will continue. All we can all do is be as morally upright as we can and encourage others (through open dialogue, good works, and brotherhood) to do the same. The Internets are a starting point but it is how you conduct yourself in reality that really matter.

Aside:
A few of the petitions I ran across felt like scams. One asked for an email password in addition to your email address (typically this is so they can then spam your contact list). Others just looked odd. Just a reminder that there are a number of derelicts out on the tubes that are not there for the good of world and just looking for a way to make some $$$. Prof. Puppy out. (I will post something more uplifting tomorrow hopefully)

Dead Dogs or Pooped Pups?

June 30th, 2009 No comments

Yes, it is Tuesday. Yes, I did promise certain people that I would be posting a regular MWF schedule. Readers will have to use this post to fill the yawing void that is life without reading about my escapades.

Saturday: It was a beautiful day out. Warm, sunny, slight breeze. While some people were running marathons or enjoying Pride festivities, I was soaking up the rays on the balcony all morning. Nice. Early afternoon came and my two-legs finally decided to take us to the park. There was only one other four-legs there, and he was much bigger than me so I mostly just sniffed and marked. My usual. Big-little-bro had a great time though. Two-legs brought the Chuckit which helped burn off some of Luke’s energy. The other four-legs was also real friendly with him. He was also a mix of German Shepard and something so those two boys were like kindred spirits. Play fighting, barking, running. They did it all. Eventually Luke got tired and laid down in the sand, a general indicator that it is time to go home. But we did not go home yet! My two-legs took us three blocks in the wrong direction up to Mud Bay Pet Store. The smells were delicious. I smelt delicious lamb and chicken and beef. I just wanted to attack everything in the store. The other two-legs who were there gave us some treats for being good puppies. Expect after we got the treats little-big-bro got excited, tried to jump up and give her kisses, and knocked the poor two-legs off her legs. Then we left.

The rest of Saturday and frankly the majority of Sunday were spend like this:

I like to nest in the pillows on the puppy coach. Luke takes to the floor to spread out.

I like to nest in the pillows on the puppy coach. Luke takes to the floor to spread out.

It has been pretty status quo around here. My two-legs says he is too “busy” to take me on long fun walks. By busy he must mean sitting on the couch playing computer and/or Wii games. Though I hear him and the skirted two-legs talk about website gigs. And of course, she is always making fun of him for not working out or running like he says he will.

I wish it were Saturday again.

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Comfort is King

June 24th, 2009 No comments

I had planned on giving you a really ripping yarn about my bodily functions (read: poop) and how they affect my life and the lives of those around me. Then I thought more about it and decided you did not really need to read a post about that. Well, maybe you do, but not right now anyway. Aside: I find it quite humorous how my two-legs has to pick up my poop. Who is the master in that situation again?

Anyway, back to the task at hand. It was now Tuesday and I was lounging around the house, racking my brain for ideas on my next post. It has been a very boring uneventful (napping, eating and lounging all day is not boring, it just does not make for good blogging) past few days. Then I remembered a funny phenomenon that occasionally happens in the bedroom (no, not that, get your mind out of the gutter). It is not that funny in words, but is really funny in images. So all I had to do was wait for the right moment. Sure enough, Wednesday morning, my two-legs is getting ready for work, the joy of having him finally be awake has worn off, and big-little-bro and I have laid down again for some needed rest. Yes! This is it! Perfect! I told my two-legs to snap a pic and post it for the world to see:

No, it is not forced perspective. The big dog is in the little bed and the little dog is in the big bed.

No, it is not forced perspective. The big dog is in the little bed and the little dog is in the big bed.

Take all that in for a moment. In the upper part of the frame we have me. A 25-ish pound mini-schnauzer, taking up what is probably a 16-inch by 10-inch area of a massive 36-inch by 48-inch pad. At the bottom is big-little-bro. A 80-ish pound uhh, err, dog, oozing out of a 24-inch by 24-inch puppy bed.

Now you may be thinking, “Well maybe your bed is more comfortable?” First off, the pillow that you are supposed to be laying on at the bottom is just bunched but beside him. Probably because two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Secondly, both are equally comfortable beds. Mine (my real bed) is plush microfiber and has little walls that I can nestle into in. His (his real bed) is a hand-crafted aerofoam bed covered in soft microfiber. It was made to his exact dimensions with a bit extra so he could stretch out (the skirted two-legs is a whiz with needle and thread). For reasons I cannot fathom, big-little-bro insists on wedging himself into my bed. Not only is he stretching it out and shedding profusely on it; I do not see how it can possibly be enjoyable to curl up in. Meanwhile I sit like a flea on a tennis court! And I cannot get his bed to my liking because it is aerofoam! You ever tried to move around aerofoam to build up a little cushion? I paw at that thing for about 15 minutes before I just give up. My life  is like the princess and the fricking pea here.