There's No Place Like Home

I'm back from Idaho. A little hungover from all of the Pacific Northwest brews I drank, and hot dogs I ate, but it's good to be home. I came in first place in the Iron Dog hot dog eating contest, and have five extra pounds hanging from my belly to prove it.

I'll write more later, but now the devil green couch is calling my name for a nap. I didn't get much sleep on vacation - I was stuck sharing a room with the Old Man who snored like a freight train.

FLASH

Blog-cation

Hi friends. I have some bad news that will surely wreck a few of you: I must take a week long blog vacation. I know, I know...I am not sure how you will get through your day either.

I am headed to the great state of Idaho with my mom and the Old Man to eat potatoes and hot dogs for a week. Also to enjoy the cooler temps and scout out the female bitches of Idaho. Lulu will be staying home with a babysitter, for obvious reasons.

My mom and I are headed to Idaho on a mission: Mom to complete her first Ironman; and, myself, to win the Irondog Hot Dog eating contest. Please keep us in your prayers as we embark on this journey, and we will see you on the other side: Mom as an Iron(wo)man; and, Flash T. Ruyle as an Iron Dog. You can track us on-line at Ironman.com; Mom is #2207, and I am #1.

I am sure the Old Man will partake in some sort of beer drinking contest since he is not a serious competitor like Mom and I.

So, friends, don't cry, Flash T. Ruyle will return from my blog-cation in about one week...Iron Dog tattoo and all!

FLASH

Dog Days of Summer Baseball

For the record let me state that I’m a baseball fan.

My favorite team is the Texas Rangers and before any haters are sic’d on me, I’ll have you know I started liking them when they sucked. Coincidentally, it is also the time that I learned a lot of swear words from my father who sat by my side watching game after game after game.

Things aren’t much better these days for my Rangers. If losing builds character, then I feel like Rin Tin Tin right about now.

But, hey at least I still have my day job. You know as snuggler, lover and all around best friend to my bipeds. The same can’t be said for a black lab called Master Yogi Berra who got tossed out of work at a recent baseball game.

Greensboro, NC — A little embarrassment during the Grasshoppers loss Tuesday afternoon.

Master Yogi Berra, a bat and ball fetching dog for the team, was ejected after relieving himself on the field during the fourth inning of the Hoppers 9-6 loss to Asheville.

A spokesperson for the Grasshoppers says that Yogi was attempting his usual between inning promotion of fetching a ball shot to deep center field. While running back to homeplate, he stopped and relieved himself on the field. This prompted homeplate umpire Jason Hutchings to eject the dog.

Owner Donald Moore says Yogi was not feeling well today battling a stomach virus. “When you gotta go, you gotta go,” said Moore, the Grasshoppers’ Team President and General Manager,.

Yogi is believed to be the first dog ever ejected from a professional baseball game.

“Yogi’s had a tough start to his season, and I hope this doesn’t get him down. He clearly couldn’t control himself out there. He’s such a competitor and he wanted to do his duties as he’s been trained,” continued Moore. He left the ballpark in the 6th inning with the Team Veterinarian Jason Streck, of the After Hours Veterinary Emergency Clinic, and is listed as day-to-day.

First it was people jumping on the playing field to get on TV, then it was streakers taking it up a notch, and now we’ve turned to public defecation. Is this a great country or what?

FLASH

Friday!

It's Friday. It better be a dog park day, or the Old Man will receive a swift kick in the gonads.

You Gotta Be Kidding Me...

In a sign of the times, cows are now jumping in to do jobs that were meant for dogs.

What’s next? Elephants snuggling in my parents’ bed? Black bears begging for food? Chihuahuas protecting their owners? It seems the world is coming to an end. Maybe I should turn the tables on the bovine class. I can sit around all day and eat grass, fart and wait to be milked too. But that’s a bluff on my part. And you know why? Because I don’t like people touching my nipples. Don’t know why, I just don’t.

But I digress. Here’s the story of some working class cows used to chase kids off an open field.

The people of Monks Brook in Southampton are fed up of council turf being ruined by youths on loud bikes.

So Hampshire County Council has turned to the hoofed animals for help and drafted in eight of the beasts to occupy the land.

A spokesperson said: “We had a number of complaints from residents about kids breaking in with motorbikes so we decided to move eight cows onto the land.”

The Aberdeen Angus cows seem to have done the trick.

But the new herd is not so popular with the next door neighbours – the footie team BTC Sports and Social Club say the cows are stopping matches.

Club chairman Damon Brown told Southampton’s The Daily Echo: “They are not solving the problem, they are just moving it on. The longer these cows are on the field the more damage they are going to do.”

It won’t be long before we see cows standing next to trees with hooves raised and dousing them with pee.

Flash T. Ruyle to the Rescue

I've been hearing a lot lately about an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. My mom says this is old news, but don't blame me, the Old Man hogs the computer and the remote so I usually am a little behind on my current events.

Anyway, this oil spill, it's been bothering me. And, I've decided to do something about it. I am going to save the world from itself: I am offering my services to clean up the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.

It has been clearly documented that dog hair soaks up the oily remnants of drilling platforms gone bad better than sponges, handy wipes, and even wildlife. Quite simply, dog hair is to oil as paper towels are to pee in a living room.

I’m not here to point a paw at anybody. Not British Petroleum, not the government, and not even Charlie, the local tomcat. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any Irish Setter in my bloodlines; you know how much they like to point their paws.

But here's my proposal: I like swimming. I like the gulf. I’d like to go swimming in the Gulf and soak up some sun, and a bunch of premium grade oil. How could anyone refuse my offer?

According to my sources, aides to Portuguese Water Dog in charge Bo Obama, are said to be sniffing through my proposal before making any public comments.

A few haters have expressed some concern over my idea. They say: “What’s to keep him from peeing in the gulf, or worse, pooping in it? This could lead to two environmental disasters rather than just the one we’re dealing with now.”

Ultimately it comes down to approvals; the first from Bo Obama and the administration, and the second from my parents.

To be honest, I know I’ll be very tired from the swims, but I’m more worried about my hair. The oily, grunge look may work in Seattle, but in my home town the bitches like the Justin Bieber poofy hair look. With Bieber fever infecting the canine community, it will be tough, but I’m committed to the cause.

Time will tell whether I will be allowed to help those humans unable to help themselves.

FLASH

Bleh

Every feel like you lucked out on the corner of Fortune and Fate? Today feels like I got run over at that intersection. I think it was the bad chicken I had last night. I guess that's what I get for trying to pass my Old Man's new recipe for “Chicken Surprise!” dinner through my innards. Looks like it will be another day of me resting with my shades on in the house.

Tuesdays usually suck because we're out of treats. Most importantly we're out of pork ears. It's anybody's guess when 'they' will go to the store for more...

I'm Back

This is a picture from yesterday afternoon. I was in a rough state to be honest with you. I had bad cramps yesterday morning. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that they finally passed.

Well, to be honest, it wasn’t until late afternoon until I took the biggest dump this side of the Mississippi for a dog my size. I think it was the cheese from the mozzarella sticks Mom gave me on Friday. It bound me up but good.

Or maybe it was the ribs I had Saturday night, from the garbage pail.

Regardless, the Guinness Book of World Records is coming over later today to verify my spot in history. I just hope my mother doesn’t pick it up before they get here. Maybe I should hide her shovel. Let me just say, it was quite the effort to get a 7 lb poo past my gatekeeper.

FLASH

(not really) Wordless Wednesday

I'm supposed to apologize for the foul language in my post yesterday. I got my paws washed out with soap for using inappropriate language, according to my mother. What I don't understand is why Grandpa Mike is allowed to use that language, but maybe it is because he's a bit more advanced in age.

Anyway, I have some bad news for my adoring fans. I will not be blogging the rest of the week. I'm simply too sad to do so. My mom will be headed out of town all day tomorrow and Friday for work. She's leaving me alone with the Old Man and this makes me too depressed to blog. What can I say, I am a mamma's boy. I will return on Monday.

Look at what she's leaving me with, and you would feel sorry for me too. Doesn't it look like the Old Man is trying to strangle me!!??

A Gift From The Heavens

Yesterday I received the most precious gift in the mail addressed to Flash T. Ruyle: two dozen pork ears. And they are the good kind: not that cheap off-brand that Mom buys me. At first I thought the pork ears were a magical gift from the big man in the sky, but mom informed me that they were from Grandpa Mike. It was a bit of a surprise - to be honest, I wasn't sure he would pull through for me. But, alas, he did, so I give a big bark out "thank you" to Grandpa Mike for filling my belly with the gift of pork.

HOWEVER, we do have one BIG problem involving Lulu and my pork ears. The package was clearly addressed to Flash T. Ruyle. So, maybe someone can enlighten me on what the hell is going on in the picture below?
Yes, you are seeing correctly: Lulu is chowing down on one of my coveted pork ears. To quote Grandpa Mike who once said the following when a lady pulled out in front of him at the Vienna Metro: Stupid Bitch. (yes folks, he really talks like that)

I have given her fair warning that if I see her with any more of my pork ears I will pick her up by her tail and drop kick her through the doggy door. The same goes for the Old Man. You don't mess with a man and his pork.
**Dear Grandpa Mike, just wondering: it appears - and to quote you - the stupid bitch, has eaten two of my pork ears. Can you go ahead and get those replaced and in the mail to me?Overnight mail would be best.

WOOF,
FLASH

Manic Monday

Sorry for my absence this morning. I know some of you go into withdrawal seizures without my daily dose of wisdom. I got my walk this morning, had my breakfast and a treat. Took a nap, woke up, barked. Slept some more, ate lunch- carrots, mom's flip flops and a rawhide bone. Slept some more, barked some more, took another walk and I think I will pad-out on the couch. Not a bad Monday so far....

Onto today's news. I read a study this morning that was surprised me. It states that men, human men, follow the same rules of engagement as male dogs when it comes to wooing the opposite sex. Really? I have to say, my father is clueless, and he managed to get a girl. Granted, it’s my mother, but still she’s a chick.

I bet he never even sniffed her crotch before asking her out for a Happy Meal at Mickey Dee’s. What a blockhead.

Me? I get whatever I want out of women, be they pretty or dogs. But that’s because I know what I’m doing.

Here's the study:

Just like men, dogs too know how to win ladies’ hearts – and that too from a young age.

According to a new study, while playing, young dogs let the female pups win, even if the males have a physical advantage.

They might lose the game in the short run, but they could win at love in the future.

The experts found that male dogs place themselves in potentially disadvantageous positions, which could make them more vulnerable to attack, and researchers suspect the opportunity to play may be more important to them than winning.

Infact, the gentlemanly dog behavior is even accompanied with a bow. “We found that self-handicapping tends to occur in conjunction with play bows,” the Discovery News quoted lead researcher Camille Ward, as saying.

“A play bow is a signal that dogs use when they want to communicate playful intentions to a potential play partner,” added Ward, a lecturer in the Department of Psychology at the University of Michigan and director of About Dogs LLC. She is also author of the forthcoming book, Relationship-Based Dog Training.

“We know that in feral dog populations, female mate choice plays a role in male mating success. Perhaps males use self-handicapping with females in order to learn more about them and to form close relationships with them — relationships that might later help males to secure future mating opportunities,” the expert said.

Hey, the only handicap I have when it comes to mating is that I have no nuts, figuratively and literally speaking.

To reach the conclusion, the experts studied puppy litters from four dog breeds: a shepherd mix, Labrador retriever, Doberman pincher and malamute. Play data was collected when the pups were between three and 40 weeks old.

The scientists examined how the puppies played with members of their own sex as well as with the opposite sex.

Females were more likely than males to initiate play with their own sex, but that may be to stave off more vicious behavior later.

Now that’s what I’m talking about.

The study has been published in Animal Behavior. While males were less likely to initiate play with other males, they seemed eager to play with females, and would go to all sorts of lengths to keep the play going.

If males want to play with other males, that’s their business….not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Flash Friday

I've got nothing today, folks. Well, except for a bad case of gas. So, I'll leave you with some photos. It's easy to pick out who is the photogenic one in these pictures.

Vices

We all have our vices.

My Old Man is obsessed with farts, my canine sister Lulu is fascinated by the cursor on this screen and, I hate to admit it, I can’t make it through a day without barking at squirrels.

These are heavy burdens to carry but it beats the one loading down my parents. In short, they’re addicted to love. Love of the furry kind.

Our house is already fur central with Lulu and myself. There isn't much space on the bed around these parts.

I overheard a conversation between the Old Man and my mother this morning. Apparently the Old Man got an email at work that someone is selling basset hound puppies. Mom squealed in delight when she heard this and demanded that the Old Man take her to look at them.

While I wouldn't mind a little Mini-Me running around the house, I'm not willing to share my kibble or give up my spot on the couch.

Perhaps we can trade Lulu in for a puppy. I'd also be okay with trading the Old Man in.

Woof!
FLASH

Wednesday Ramblings

I loves me a good car ride.

The best trips are the ones with the old man driving his chick truck, and me in the suicide seat rubbing my anal glands clean. With my window rolled down, I gawk at the strangers that adorn our city streets. I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. They’re drawn to me like maggots to rotting meat.

Fingers point at me, heads turn and steps are taken in my direction. They’re all mesmerized by my cuteness. Can’t blame them, even at those times when I haven’t bathed for a month. But that’s life in the limelight. Don’t worry I can take it.

Maybe the old man will take me for a ride today. To Sonic for a corny dog would be grand.

Speaking of food, Grandpa Mike, where the hell are my pork ears?

Memorial Day Weekend

This weekend was Memorial Day here in the good old US of A. It’s a time to remember those that paid the ultimate price to protect the freedom and liberty we enjoy today.

As a bonus for us pups, this is accompanied by family gatherings, plenty of food and the targeting of high probability treat machines.

While a lot of stories will be written about the human sacrifices made by our military heroes, rarely will there be a bark out to the special support provided by dogs. Admittedly our feline “friends” do not receive coverage either, but that’s because they are on perpetual college deferment programs. They’re takers, dogs are givers.

As I sit back, I picture what all the Private Rovers have gone through in support of our country during times of war. I can’t help but imagine myself with a combat helmet strapped around my large cranium and a cigarette dangling from my snout as I peer out of a foxhole. I smell the German Shepherds coming at me, but I stand tough and defend my turf, and my country. I’m John Wayne, Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood all rolled up into one fur suit (I guess I could lose a few pounds).

The reality is I’d probably run away like a Yorkie on his first day at doggie day care. Had it been up to me to defend this country, it would be likely that we’d all be barking German today. What can I say? I like to sleep on a bed, mooch food from my parents and snuggle my Mom. In short, I’m soft…and a coward.

That’s why I am so grateful for those that have the strength, courage, and self-discipline to not only make it in this man’s army, but to thrive in it as well. These are special dogs and should be thanked for their sacrifice.

I hope everyone had a great Memorial Day. See below to see how I spent mine!FLASH