Case of the Mondays

Don't bother me. I've got a case of the Mondays.FLASH

Politics are a Joke

The world of politics is filled with jackasses.

That’s the only way to make sense of what’s going on in the world today. Especially this.

I’m not going to get into my personal beliefs on how to cure the world’s ills, just know that I have a plan, and that plan would save the world from itself.

Why not share it? Well, I’m too tired to spread the word.

So, for now, I’ll sit back and watch the world continue down its ruinous path. I can only hope that a few rays of sunshine turn into a sunny day and all will be well with the world again.

FLASH

Howl-oween Humiliation

Wow, it's been awhile since I've blogged. I'm sure everyone has been in a deep, dark depression without my words of wisdom to brighten their day. Sorry about that.

What's been going on? Well, this is the time of year I dread. Why? Because it’s Halloween time and that means my parents are going to dress me up in some ridiculous costume. In the past I’ve been Superman, Darth Vader, Pumpkin Monster, Reindeer and a ghost. I’m sure there are more but that’s all I can remember. It appears I’m not the only one who gets this treatment.

From the Interwbs – A devil twirled around while her master held a lollipop in the air and a cheerleader shook her behind as she walked past the judges.

The pug costume judges, that is.

During the fourth annual Rochester Canine Playgroup’s Howl-o-Ween, dogs of all kinds and sizes participated in costume contests and other Halloween activities with their owners.

“It’s a very nice social atmosphere for the dogs and for us (dog owners) as well,” said Playgroup founder Tara Gamby.

A very nice social atmosphere for the humans. It’s a humiliating experience for canines.

The event was divided into three sessions Sunday – a pugs-only group, small dogs and big dogs.

May I suggest dividing the sessions into these three groupings: totally humiliated dogs, slightly disgraced dogs and dogs that play for the other side. See if you can determine which picture below belongs in which category (all dogs depicted below are males).

FLASH

Elephant Ears

So my Old Man told me that I have "ears like an elephant". I wasn't sure what an elephant was because I never seen one in real life so I decided to google and I found this... and quickly realize I was being insulted.Really, Old Man? Ears like an elephant?

Two can play that game. I told him he has a belly like a sumo wrestler. In case you don't know what that is, here is a visual:Yep, I see the resemblance.

On another note, I have to go back to the vet tomorrow. That blows. If you feel sorry for me, you should send me treats. Lots of them.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to my Old Man!

My mom gave me some money to buy him a gift so I bought him a dog cake from Tail Waggins' Bakery. Aren't I thoughtful? I'm willing to help him eat it if he doesn't like dog cake. I know. I'm the best.

My Sense of Humor and the Old Man's Birthday

I posted the following as my Facebook status yesterday...
My Old Man is a gambler…on his farts not killing everyone in the house.

The Old Man didn't find it funny. I told him I didn't find it funny either; I'm just speaking the truth...and the truth is that he's been passing some bad gas lately.

Speaking of the Old Man, this Friday is his birthday. He's asked that you send all gifts addressed to me. You know, so I can keep them safe until he opens them. His birthday list includes pork ears, corn dogs, bowser beer and squeaky toys. What...I can't help it that we have similar tastes.

Be sure to give him a nugie and wish him a Happy Birthday!

Obedience Class

Sit. Stay.

That’s the only thing I remember from my Good Canine Citizens Certification class, although I don’t follow the commands today.

It makes my parents feel better about themselves when they say those two words in front of people, expecting me to obey.

After a full minute of them trying to push my booty down on the ground, it invariably ends with a comment like, “He’s usually much better than this.”

My parents know it’s a lie, I know it’s a lie, and most of all the people they’re talking to know it’s a lie.

So who’s to blame? Many will say it’s because I didn’t go to a good school, but c’mon, we all know it’s not where you go but who you know.

Want to go far in life, hang with a successful pack.

Me? Clearly, I’ve decided to rough it in this go around of life.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, my cousin Tubbs, is starting obedience school with a dog trainer today. Let’s see how long it takes Tubbs to figure out what’s really important in life

3 years old (that's 28 in dog years)

It's my birthday. Please send presents!

Lulu

The face only a mother could love.

Thursday Words of Wisdom

We don’t always get it right the first time.

When I was young, I thought I wanted to be man’s best friend. Turned out I just wanted the treats.

Then there was my first encounter with cats at the animal shelter. They had me believing they were sweet, smart, wonderful creatures. I came to find out, you can’t wag around these creatures without your tail being attacked.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the first time I had to fart in public. Well, let’s just say I let a solid one slip by the goalie while standing in a living room.

But hey, that’s what life is all about; building up experience so we make the right decisions the next go around.

Do I waste my time begging for onions, grapes, or chocolate these days? Heck no. Better to utilize my begging allowance for peanut butter, hot dogs and watermelon (preferably seedless because I hate spitting the seeds out on the floor).

Let these be life lessons to all you young pups.

Warning!

Warning label on my new medication: May cause dizziness. Avoid alcohol and operating heavy machinery. So, no booze or driving my tractor around town? Damn.

Vet trips, Sesame Street, and I still Highly Dislike Lulu

Peeps. I don't even know if you'll believe me when I tell you what a crazy week it's been for me. Let's just start with 3 trips to the vet last week. Yeah. That is how much my week sucked. And, this week hasn't started off too peachy for me either since Lulu stole my milk bone from me. Bitch.

I was pretty much relegated to the couch last week. One, because it's still 100+ degrees, and I can't exactly shed my fur coat when I go outside. And, two, I haven't been feeling very well. After being poked, prodded, drugged and violated by the vet on multiple occasions last week, all I wanted to do is channel surf from my favorite spot on the couch.

I want to talk about something I came across while channel surfing last week: a television show called Sesame Street.

I never had the opportunity to watch Sesame Street while growing up.

My formative years months were spent trying to survive in the streets and in animal shelter lock downs.

I had a rough beginning so it wasn’t until I was a mature basset that I got my first glimpse of a big, yellow bird on TV last week, creatively called Big Bird.

Color me unimpressed.

Is it me or does this bird get overly excited when he discovers new things?

Hey, Bird, settle down. Seven times seven has always equaled 49.

And talk about being afflicted with Debbie Downer Dachshund Syndrome, he gets extremely disappointed when things don’t work out.

But then again, how emotionally balanced is a bird going to be when his best friend is an imaginary wooly mammoth?

Maybe it’s best I didn’t grow up watching this stuff.

Thank you

Thanks to everyone for their concern for me. Mom and the Old Man are taking good care of me!

Wanted: Treats

Prayers for Flash

Dear Flash Fans,

I'm sorry to say you won't be blessed with Flash's humor or wisdom today, just a prayer request from his mother instead. I know you all love Flash as much I do, and this afternoon, our buddy Flash has to take an emergency trip to the vet.

Flash is too tough to let you all know, but lately he has had some bad jaw trembles and uncontrollable drooling. Last night, I noticed an abscess, raspberry in size and in color on the outside of his mouth, near his jaw. It's not a pretty sight. This is likely the cause of his trembling and drooling. Flash will need to go into the vet today for evaluation. Please send your prayers Flash's way today that is abscess is nothing serious.

Love,
His Mother

Flashy Poo...

I’m an artist.

I strive to create something wonderful and special every day, and no, I’m not talking about the words I type on this blog. Granted, it’s prose Shakespeare would be proud of, but it’s really my second calling.

My first calling? Sculpting.

To be more precise, forming my poo into works of art.

On days where I don’t feel inspired, I’ll usually create my mass market favorite, The Dairy Queen Swirl. On other days I might create The Coffee Log or The Snake or my favorite, The Splatter.

I know they’re good. Why else would my mother pick them up and save them in little plastic bags?

I know I could do better marketing my creations so more people could take in and enjoy work. If only there were a way to get greater exposure.

The Old Man's Facial Hair

Since school is about to start back up, my mother has been urging the old man to shave and clean himself back up for the new school year. But, my old man like’s to grow facial hair.

It’s not because it makes him look good or dangerous. It’s because he’s lazy.

He shaves once a week whether he needs it or not. Sadly, he’s got the same regiment when it comes to showering.

My mother isn’t a fan. Thank god, because if she were she’d blow his smell my way (Get it, she’s a fan!). A dog can only handle so many nasty smells before he passes out. By all accounts, I’d never wake up.

About the only thing my father is diligent about is pulling the lint out of his belly button. He’s almost done with his sculpture named “David”. Personally I think it looks more like the Michelin Man than the famous Michelangelo creation, but hey, I’m no art connoisseur.

Anyway, I am not sure what kind of progress my mother will make with the Old Man's facial hair. At least when he grows his facial hair it’s the full deal and not a mustache.

The Bachelorette: My Thoughts

Last night was the season finale of the Bachelorette on ABC. Everyone was talking about who Ashley was going to pick, and honestly, I feel sorry for the poor sap she chose. Not because I don't think she's got a nice pair of legs on her, but because she's a dentist.

I’ll be the first to bark it, I don’t like dentists.

It’s not the people behind the profession I have a problem with, in fact many give treats, but the invasive procedures required to clean my teeth.

If I want you to pick out that week old piece of barbeque chicken embedded between my molars, I’ll open my jowls and invite you in. If not, stay clear.

It’s as simple as knowing your boundaries.

Good luck with that one, JP.

Drool, anyone?

Check out the drool bubble I blew while sleeping on Mom's lap. She especially appreciated the puddle of drool I left on the leather couch.

For the Love of God Mow the Lawn

So I went out this morning to do my business only to find the grass so high I couldn’t help but pee on my leg.

I gotta say, the old man is a slacker when it comes to household chores. When was the last time he mowed the place? Probably a few weeks ago.

This wouldn't be a problem in the drought days of late, but the Old Man keeps watering the yard. Grass, just add water and it grows. Reminds me of the Sea Monkey I brought to life many moons ago. Let me be clear about something, when I use the word grass I mean stuff that grows in the back yard that is green. Others, with finer backyard tastes, would use the word, weeds.

Regardless, the only way to get it down to a manageable level is to eat it. You know, chew it like a Cow chews its cud. I then have the option to throw it up somewhere inside the house. It’s a family favorite so I do it often.

Well, good morning...

I know it's been a while since I've blogged. And, in case you're wondering, I'm still waiting on that ride to Wendy's for my Baconator. It appears I might be waiting for awhile. Which leads me into my next segment.

Fat ass. I’ve been called it a few times lately. In fact, according to the vet, I'm supposed to be on a diet.

It isn’t easy keeping the pounds off when you are getting older than the dirt you hide your bones under, especially when it's 100+ degrees out every day, coupled with an ever present hankering for treats.

The extreme heat has minimized my exercise, and in fact, has allowed me to employ my own live in nurses. OK, the nurses are my parents, but I do allow them to live in my house. If I didn’t who would get up at 5:00 in the morning to rub my belly and refill my water bowl with some fresh H20 goodness? Certainly not my sister Lulu.

Hey, I get it. I know I should watch what I eat. The good thing is my parents are a bit lenient.

I thank my lucky bones I’m not the Bo from the White House who gets an earful from mother Michelle O’Bama about the downside of polishing off a box of Milkbones. I imagine he hears this while she’s polishing off a double bacon cheeseburger.

It seems society doesn’t dig overweight creatures that are filled with love…and meatloaf.

Wordless Wednesday

These coupons came in the mail yesterday...who wants to drive me to Wendy's? One Baconator for you, three for me...

Monday Humor

How can my old man lose 40 lbs of ugly fat really fast?

By cutting off his head.

How does my neighbor Dino, a dachshund, lose 20 lbs of ugly fat really fast?

By divorcing his chihuahua wife.

Hahaha…I got loads of ‘em folks and I’ll be here all week. Be sure to tip your waitress. Try the veal. You’ve been a great audience goodnight everydog.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...

I iz tired today.

Avert your eyes...

I've come across something very disturbing on the Interwebs. Disturbing, like WOAH! I was perusing the web, looking for pictures of hot female dogs, and came across these photos instead.

Yes, that is my Old Man. And, no, I don't know why he's hanging out around town in a pink swim cap, top less, and in tight girlie shorts. Your guess is as good as mine.

Oh.Shit. There he is again. Now he's hanging out around town on his bike, still topless, and wearing a neon blue helmet.

I'm just wondering if I should go to the authorities with these pictures? Can you help me friends... what does one classify as indecent exposure??

What's Wrong With this Picture?

Help me out, I'm a little bit confused.

Please review the situation below and let me know if you find it a little disturbing.

An Overview of My Mom's Day:

4:45 am: wake-up, workout.

7 am: Walk Lu and I, feed us kibble. Shower and rush to work.

8 am - 5 pm: Sit in an office and work all day. By the way, this office does not have windows.

5:15 pm: Come home, walk Lu and I and lavish us with all her attention.

5:45 pm: Evening work in the heat. Yeah, she's crazy.

7:30 pm: Dinner.

9 pm: Bed. Repeat the next day.

An Overview of the Old Man's Day:

Wake-up in time for a 10 am tee time. Play 18 holes of golf. Get home from golf around 3 pm, text my Mom and tell her he's going to take a nap. 6 pm: Wake up from said nap. 7 pm: Meet the boys at Applebees for some pregame beers. 9 pm: Play softball with his team (mom calls them the Bad News Bears...ssshhhh). 11 pm: Arrive home, go to bed. Repeat the next day.

I know I'm only a dog, and my opinion may not count, but this seems a little unfair to me. Perhaps the Old Man should buy her those new Lululemon running shorts she's been eyeing to even things out a bit.

Sibling Rivalry

Dear Flash & Lulu,

Please do not CONSTANTLY fight over the same toy, it is really annoying. You have hundreds of carcasses, balls, ropes, and other toys so why do you always both want the same stupid bone? Why? It's not even really a toy???

I am not a referee.

My lap is not a cushion for your hairy bodies.

You are siblings and grown dogmen, work it out yourself.

Love you both with all my heart, but please stop annoying me,

Your Momma

P.S. Would it kill you to run a vacuum every now and then?

Your hair is out of control you wooly mammoths.

This Really Happened. True Story.

This is a true story of what happened on a walk yesterday with Mom.

Lulu decided to poop right on an ant pile. In turn, her hind legs became covered with ants. Mom tried to save her by frantically wiping the ants off Lulu with her hands. In turn, Mom got ant bites all over her hands and ankles.

Lulu is dumb, but Mom is dumber. I just sat back and laughed.

WTF

Wordless Wednesday

Good morning!

Jeremiah was a Bullfrog...

Jeremiah was a bull frog. Was a good friend of mine. I never understood a single word he said but I helped him a-drink his wine. And he always had some mighty fine wine.

I loved that song growing up. Sure it was old, even back then, but it was still a classic. To celebrate the song’s anniversary I had Jeremiah over for dinner late last night. He was delicious.

Thursday Thoughts

Some things I can’t put a price on. Things like always having plenty of food, unlimited nap time and farting in bed.

For humans, I’d put dog ownership in the same class. You can’t buy the companionship a canine offers for any price.

Seriously, where else could humans turn to find a non-judgemental animal willing to put up with their psychotic behavior? Maybe there’s a species on Mars willing to put up with it, but not here on earth.

So, Old Man, stop yelling at me for excessive sniffing on our walks, dragging mulch into the living room (just trying to decorate), pooping on the back porch or chasing toads in the backyard....or else, I'll take my show on the road to some other lucky human.

Friendly PSA

Just a friendly public service announcement from your favorite basset hound: Father's Day is Sunday, people.

While I may take a jab or two at the Old Man, truth be told, he's a good guy. So, I dug out some change from underneath the couch cushion and headed out purchase him a Father's Day gift. I came back with this card and double pack of milk-bones.

What.....? You don't think he's going to like the milk bones? Well, I'll be damned.

Guess I'll take one for the team and eat them.

I'm Back!

FLASH T. Ruyle is back and with a great story for your Monday.

I’m not one for talking on the phone a lot. In fact, I rarely pick up the phone. If you think about it, what’s the upside? You can’t get a treat through the phone and you know any praise you get won’t be followed up with a good scratch behind the ears.

The only reason for having a phone is to call out, like when you need a Papa John's Pizza. Or if your owner is in need of medical attention.

PHOENIX, Ariz. — 911 dispatchers have heard it all, but this one is the most unusual. When the operator answered a call, she heard a dog barking on the other end.

For Joe Stalnaker, his dog buddy is more than a best friend, he’s a guardian angel.

Buddy saved Joe’s life by grabbing the phone and calling 911 when Joe was having a seizure — and he also barked and whimpered for the operator, who sent paramedics after tracing the call.

Some of you may be wondering how Buddy ‘grabbed’ the phone. There are certain hounds out there that have extra long paws allowing them to wrap the paw around the phone’s receiver. Unfortunately, mine are short and stubby so I use the speakerphone.

“He’s just an amazing animal. I don’t know of any other dog that can do the things he can do.”

Needless to say, but I will anyway, Joe hasn’t met me yet.

FLASH

Who's Handsome? I am.

I'll be gone from blog land for a little while, but hopefully these handsome pictures of yours truly (and Lulu) will hold you over until I'm back.

Thanks Aunt Sarah for the great pictures!

FLASH

National Running Day

All I've been hearing about today is that it's National Running Day. Mom has been going on and on about it all day. She even ripped the covers off the Old Man sleeping this morning shouting 'It's National Running Day, get up and run!'. I just don't get the appeal.

Running really sucks. I’d much rather walk. I don’t mind jogging very very slowly. So slowly that I’m actually walking. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t like exercise. I enjoy walking at a certain clip. I enjoy that very much. Some might even call that speed walking. Call it what you will. I really don’t like running though. I find it very distasteful. I don’t like it all. Why? That’s the obvious question. Why? Why Flash do you not like running? Well, let’s start with the superficialities:

1) It’s look stupid. No, let me correct myself: I look stupid. I look like a zucchini with legs. No, worse, zucchini bread with legs. Have you ever seen zucchini bread running? Of course not. Because it’s stupid.

2) It’s f&^@#d up. It’s f&^@#d up because lots of times marathon runners lose control of their bowl movements near the end of the race and then they start wobbling and then they poo down their legs and that’s f&^@#d up. Wobbling/running while pooing on your own leg is nothing short of very f&^@#d up and totally stupid.

3) It feels weird. Very weird. It feels very weird to have my skin and muscle tissue moving up and down on my frame. It’s like pulled pork. I’m afraid that I might at any moment turn a corner the wrong way and my carcass go flying off its hinges. That would suck. It would also be very disgusting. It would suck, be disgusting, f&^@#d up and stupid.

4) It’s bad for you. I already mentioned the part about the pooing on the leg but it also gets your heart pumping and that could make you have a heart attack. Who wants that to happen? Not me. The last thing I want is to be running the last few miles of marathon, with crud streaming down my leg, then suddenly I have a heart attack all because I decide to run instead of walk at a clip. Running causes heart attacks. There’s no documentation to prove that but it’s true.

5) If you’re a male your wiener flaps around like a wind sock. I can’t speak for the ladies but I’m assuming that the same could be said for your boobs.

In conclusion, running is bad for you; it makes you poo on your own leg; zucchini bread, wind-sock. It’s much better if you walk at certain clip.

Nothankyou National Running Day. I'll stick to walking.

FLASH

My Trip to the Pet "Resort"

First things first. Please see below for my report card from Zoot, the pet resort I stayed at over the weekend. My excellent marks earned me two corn dogs from Sonic.....score!

It's a little hard to read, but the most important thing to take away from the report is the line 'Thanks for bringing Flash to Zoot - he is a joy'! Okay, maybe it says 'Thanks for bringing Flash & Lulu to Zoot - they were a joy' - but you get the picture - they loved me.

One more clarification. On my report card it says I liked playing with Harley and Max. Er, untrue. I did not like anything about Max. I spent playtime running from him as he tried to mount me. For what it’s worth, once I gave him my Milkbone money, the threat was notably reduced.

While I did have an enjoyable time at Zoot, I'm confused about why my mom kept referring to it as a pet resort. All I heard last week was 'Flash, you're going to a pet resort for the weekend! You're going to have so much fun.' I was expecting an all-inclusive luxury resort with unlimited Bowser Beer and Milkbones, lush accommodations and personalized service. I was expecting to enjoy gentle breezes and breathtaking sunsets. Instead I was stuck in a room with Lulu (whom I prefer not to vacation with), had to listen to a poodle bark all night, and to be honest, the kibble they served was a little on the dry side.

The Old Man grumbled because he had pay more per night for our stay then his hotel room cost for a night, but hey, I'm obviously worth it...

FLASH

Dear God...

Dear God,
More meatballs, less spaghetti, please.

Love,
FLASH

A Day Late and a Dollar Short...

I tell ya, the young pups today got it made. Times have certainly changed since I was born. I remember having to walk three miles to obedience class, in deep snow, uphill, both ways. Today, the kids get rides in big SUV’s with heated seats.

Now I find out that even getting neutered isn’t an issue any more.

Male dogs can breathe a sigh of relief. The days of removing their testicles to stop them breeding or to curb aggressive behaviour may be numbered. A contraceptive implant that halts testosterone and sperm production for months at a time is expected to gain European approval within weeks, while steps are being taken to enable the drug to be sold in the US.

If I’d only been born ten years later, I’d have me an iPod, an iPhone and my iNuts.

FLASH

Up for Adoption

Mom and Dad are back from vacation. In case you are wondering, no, they did not bring me back a souvenir. Typical.

I’ve heard about these things owners call vacations. Typically they’re long road trips to coastal towns for fun and sun. For me, it means having to put up with either a dog sitter or raucous cage neighbors at the local kennel. It’s not a lot of fun.

So, you can imagine my disgust when I heard they will be headed out of town again this weekend. Even worse, this weekend I'll be sent to a kennel where I'll be forced to steer clear of getting a doggie shiv to the intestines from Bruiser the Pit Bull.

Anyone want to adopt me? I'm not getting the love, attention and respect I deserve in Casa Ruyle.

FLASH

Beach Bound Hound

I wish I could say that the title of this post is indeed the truth...but it's not.

It appears that my parents are going on vacation for a long weekend, and I will be stuck at home with a dog sitter and Lulu.

While they spent the weekend at the beach taking in the sun, the water and gobs of fatty food I was relegated to my backyard in Georgetown.

It still puzzles me why I’m not invited along to their pilgrimage to the coast.

Maybe it’s because I’m not a big fan of water, but hey, I’m willing to learn.

Maybe it's because dogs get a bad rap when it comes to beach side communities. Residents think we do nothing but poop on their precious sandy beaches. I got news for them, we poop on their lawns too.

Oh well. I hope they bring me some good souvenirs.

FLASH

Flash Knows All

I’ve never been impressed by those who have attended institutions of higher learning.

I say that as a graduate of one of the premier dog academies in the country, Fire Hydrant U.

My mom has been telling the Old Man how smart I am. See, there are three words that I choose to react to: Walk, Kibble & Treat. Mom is so impressed that when she says these words, I immediately give a good ole basset howl and head over to the front door or the treat counter.

Little does she know, I know many more words than just those three. Those are just merely the words I choose to react to.

I also know sit, stay and heel. I just choose to ignore those. Command me to go pee pee, poopie or stop licking and I know how to do it. I could give paw, roll over and bark for anyone if I wanted to. I just don't want to.

I know so many words you could call me Mr. Wikipedia. But what do you expect from a dog whose IQ is in excess of 12?

Humans think they’re so superior. They believe no animal is capable of outsmarting them...

FLASH

Neglected

My mom and the Old Man were gone most of the weekend. I am feeling very neglected. That is all.

FLASH

I'm Back

Sorry for the blog post outage over the past few days but I was on holiday this past weekend. That makes me sound European doesn’t it…you know, the on holiday part, but I’m really not. But, did you know that holiday means different things to different people? It sure does. For instance, my parents think it means to go away to the east coast, visit friends and relaxing all day.

For my sister Lulu and me holiday means spending quality time holed up in a large cage at our veterinarians. So while my parents eat, drink and dance the night away, I get to smell Lulu’s anal vapor and watch her submissively pee over half the cage. If that doesn’t sound like much of a holiday, you’re right.

That’s why it’s good to be back at the keyboard bringing you the latest and greatest animal related news. So let’s get it going with an animal attacking a human.

A Wal-Mart shopper looking for a deal in the garden department found more than he bargained for when he startled a poisonous pygmy rattlesnake hiding in some plants.

The foot-long rattler jumped out and bit him, striking his right hand in between his thumb and index finger.

”[The bite] wouldn’t have been been fatal with an adult male. But you could lose a finger,” said Capt. Ernie Jillson, an officer with the antivenin unit.

I guess in this Wal-Mart you don’t have to watch out for falling prices but rather falling fingers, as in falling off your hand.

Pygmy rattlesnakes grow to be between 18 and 24 inches long and have a small rattle: ”It sounds like a bee buzzing so there’s not a lot of warning,” Jillson said.

Why are they hating on the pygmies? Don’t they think midget rattlesnakes know their rattle doesn’t measure up to a regular sized rattler? Why not say something positive about them…like…uhm…like you can fit a lot of them in a clown car or uhm…it’s not the size of the rattle but how you use it?

”People need to look before you touch,” [Officer] Jillson said.

Because you know, everyone should expect to encounter a rattler at Wal-Mart.

UPDATE:

This wasn’t part of my original posting but in looking for some background information I found this link!

The story goes back to 2007 when seven shopper were bitten by pygmy rattlers!! Seven! Holy heck I’m going to have my old man go shopping there tomorrow. One quick bite and he’s going to earn a six figure settlement from Sam Walton and family. Oh yeah, after that it’s going to be corn dogs every night.

FLASH

Flying Hound

Just wondering why I wasn't cast for this commercial...

A Dog's 10 Requests

I usually don't get sappy and sentimental on this blog, but I came across something that tugged at my heart strings and had to share. This may have even made my mom tear up, but don't tell her I told you.

A Dog’s 10 requests

1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any lengthy separation from you is likely to be painful for me.
2. Give me time to understand what you want of me and I will give it ten-fold.
3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4. Don’t be angry with me for long and don’t lock me away as punishment. You have your work, friends & entertainment. I have only you.
5. Talk to me. Even if I don’t understand your words, I do understand your voice when you are speaking to me.
6. Be aware that how you treat me, good or bad, I will never forget. The treatment you give me will shape my view of yourself and all other humans.
7. Before you hit or strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to bite you.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I’m not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.
9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.
10. On the ultimate, most difficult journey, go with me please. Don’t say you can’t bear to watch and make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

FLASH

Someone say something about this picture...

What's wrong with the picture below? I don't even know where to begin. The dog legs are mine, and the human legs are the Old Man's, by the way...
The Old Man called me up on the couch, and I obeyed, thinking he might have a treat for me. The next thing I knew, I was in the compromising position you see in the picture.

You're damn right I got out of there before there was any bad touch involved.

Not cool, Old Man. Not Cool!

FLASH

Let's Go Fishing!

Can some one please pick me up and take me to San Gabriel Park? I heard Georgetown Parks & Recreation just dumped 1,000 catfish into the river, and I'm hungry.

Apparently, there is a Fishing Derby in town this Saturday. I also heard my Mom is in charge of this event? My mom in charge of a Fishing Derby? She knows as much about fishing as I know about why female dogs are such bitches - nothing!

Anyway, swing by and pick me up and let's go eat some catfish!

FLASH