Jen is out to lunch--literally, so I'm taking this opportunity to make my voice heard. I'm Rufus, the family dog, and true master of the house. My life here at the M house is pretty adventurous. First, there's that 80 lb. monster of a dog, Luke. He belongs to Jen's parents. He's a guide dog breeder, and since he's all "intact", he's also a show dog. His granddog won best of show, and Luke is quite stunning himself, so he's proud as a peacock. He sure cuts a fine figure, but he's still running on empty, 2 cans short of a 6-pack, one brick shy of a load. In other words, the lights are on, but nobody's home, if you know what I mean.
Then there's Ginger, Jen's sister's dog from Bigfoot territory. Ginger is a dainty little Yorkie, much closer to my own size and completely unintimidating . . . especially with the little ponytail (dogtail?) in her hair.
Jen is pretty fun, but she wears me out, what with the long hikes and short walks, and the jogging beside her recumbent trike, the kayaking, Corvette rides, baths, and for some reason she and Mr. M are always throwing soft stuff near my feet as if they expect me to bring the stuff back to them. IF YOU WANT SOMETHING, DON'T THROW IT ACROSS THE ROOM AND EXPECT THE DOG TO GET IT FOR YOU!! GOSH!!!!
Also, Jen likes to have what they call kids over a lot. Sometimes they are nice and gentle, sometimes they hide my food all over the house, and sometimes they just plain wear me out, running around like chickens with their heads cut off, poking me, and yelling like Banshees.
Today, one of these kids gave me a bath. Then she and Jen chased after me with towels, trying to dry me off. Then I laid in the hammock with the kid and we read Peter Rabbit.
I think I hear Jen's car, so I'm just going to go lay on the couch and play innocent. Bye!!!
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Ahhh, finally a decent conversation!
Let's see some pictures. Next time, let's discuss quantum physics, okay?
I'm at a loss... I'm kind of scared... I had no idea that a dog... could type.
He's a very smart dog, a great conversationalist, and he majored in quantum physics.
Like I said, finally a decent conversation since I actually did major in it too.
I minored in Algebra 1.
I love Rufus!!!
Upstaged by my dog!! Figures!!!!!
Hold on there, Rufie! I admit I haven't read as many books as you (on account of my near-sightedness), but how could you say I am "completely unintimidating," when you know very well that I am four or five times bigger than all other dogs? Especally Luke. Also, I think you forgot that my human here does not like to be called bigfoot.
On behalf of my Rufus, we apologize for any offense given or taken.
Should I have been more specific and referred to Sasquatch?
Perhaps yes. Hmmm, Sasquatch. I shall adopt it for my nom de plume!
Who could resist reading a book by Sasquatch???
I know Rufus would be a fan!
Rufus, you'd better be careful. I don't think I'd like you commandeering my blog, if I were Jen. I guess I'd better be careful to log out next time, in case my brother's hermit crabs start learning to touch type. hmm...
Oh, the six-pack thing made me laugh, because (somewhat unrelatedly) one of my friends had talked with me about working out. While patting his tummy, he said, "Why would you want a six pack? I have a whole keg!" Then another friend came up behind him, yelled, "Hey, I came up with that joke!" and jumped him. Ah, the joys of keg-shaped tummyhood!
Don't be silly, Miss Gracegirl, hermit crabs can't type!! With their little claws, and homes on their backs, it would take them 10 minutes to get from A to L.
I AM an exceptionally intelligent canine, but I'm afraid I could not hold my own discussing physics or mathematics with anyone of Korean descent.
As for my chest and belly, if you want a visual, I am roughly the size and shape of a 2-liter bottle. Thanks for your concern, but you don't need to worry about Jen. We had a long talk, and I am welcome to use her blog anytime. I think she appreciates my frustration at being so thoughtful and communicative but being only able to bark lest I blow my cover as a dog in the Witness Protection Program.
Hello, this is Sandy Claws. My owner Tim's mom (the only person in the house who pays nearly as much attention to me as I deserve, and I'm being generous) decided to let me prove for myself that I might be able to hold my own with many a canine, though probably not a quantum physics major, whatever that is.
I share the majority of my time with another hermit crab, Hermy Claws, and Crabby Cakes, given by our neighbor, and who joined our family to become Crabby Claws. Actually only Crabby Cakes is left, since Hermy Claws deserted us. There must have been the smell of Tim's tennis shoes driving him mad and by the time he got out of the bin to find them, Tim probably had them on his fertile feet. Anyway, it's been about two weeks and he hasn't shown up. No one's too worried though since he did this before and showed up in the dirty laundry after two weeks, and was fine.
I'm sorry I can't brag about how well we do in crab shows since our owner is neglectful and has not brought us to any. We do have fine figures, though mine is the best. (The claws on the others are chubby.) I'm also the friendliest; the other two sometimes hole up and won't come out to visit their human companions.
Sandy Claws, I hate to be crabby, but why did you comment using your owner's mother's name? Thanks for taking the time to write. It must've taken all day, and been quite a workout, crawling all over the keys and what not.
Let me get my breath...I used her name because she knows how to log in and I don't.
By the way, Crabby just showed up today in the laundry room again. Tim's mom had even vacuumed in there in that two weeks' time. When she found him (from what he told me), he pinched her hard and wouldn't let go for a long time. I don't expect she'll pick him up so readily again.
By the way, why do you hate to be crabby? In my opinion it's the best character trait in existence!
Wow-how you ever managed to avoid the vacuum roller brush dumbfounds and stupefies me! You must have a big and strong house-constructed with reinforced steel?
See, for me to be crabby is a bad thing; I prefer to be doggish. For you to be crabby is only natural-obviously, since you pinched the woman who saved your life from a vacuum-sucked life, and dark corners of a garage, isolted from those you love.
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