So, we haven’t even moved to yee-haw Texas, yet (long story for another day), and I’m already getting discriminated against. (I think it's cause I'm a Tennessee hound...)
I hear we’re getting a nice new house for the rest of the year ‘til they find a real one, which is OK by me - nothing left to chew in this one, anyway. I hear it has a pool and a real yard. Ok, I thinks, TX can be livable after all.
“Keep walkin’, buddy - Small dogs only”
I’m sure I’m gonna get hit for this…
Arf.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
social contracts are for sissies
So the old man’s been playing Bioshock and reading Ayn Rand books. Talking about how his “city was betrayed…by the weak” and other such nonsense. This can’t be good. The girl thinks he’s a little off his rocker. I’m not scared, yet – hey, they’re still feeding me – but I see both points. When things are obviously in trouble, you shouldn’t panic, but when does buying gold and poring over C-SPAN transcripts of Fed meetings start to be the rational thing to do?
It’s got me thinking, though. We have a deal here – the humans and me - a kind of “social contract” (can there really be such a thing?) that says how we’re going to treat each other, and what we expect of each other. I keep the house free from cats and they do whatever it is they do to keep the food in the dish.
What if I thought it would be great if the city tore down the house and made it a dog park? I could talk to the other dogs in the neighborhood and they could think it was a great idea... but can I really start a petition to get it done? While I’m living in the house, eating their food and playing with their kids?? Doesn’t that break our deal? How? I haven’t bitten a kid, or let a cat live in the yard… still, it wouldn’t feel right. Like I was violating the trust of my humans… If I was truly evil it would be OK, because a dog park sounds sweet…
Too much thinking, and this is hard. I mean, in real life, if someone you don’t know tries to take your ball or mess with your humans, it’s not hard. You know they don’t care about any stinking contract.
You bite ‘em.
Hard. Or they’ll do it again.
…back to watching the pretty underwater city…
Arf.
It’s got me thinking, though. We have a deal here – the humans and me - a kind of “social contract” (can there really be such a thing?) that says how we’re going to treat each other, and what we expect of each other. I keep the house free from cats and they do whatever it is they do to keep the food in the dish.
What if I thought it would be great if the city tore down the house and made it a dog park? I could talk to the other dogs in the neighborhood and they could think it was a great idea... but can I really start a petition to get it done? While I’m living in the house, eating their food and playing with their kids?? Doesn’t that break our deal? How? I haven’t bitten a kid, or let a cat live in the yard… still, it wouldn’t feel right. Like I was violating the trust of my humans… If I was truly evil it would be OK, because a dog park sounds sweet…
Too much thinking, and this is hard. I mean, in real life, if someone you don’t know tries to take your ball or mess with your humans, it’s not hard. You know they don’t care about any stinking contract.
You bite ‘em.
Hard. Or they’ll do it again.
…back to watching the pretty underwater city…
Arf.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Atlas Shrugged, I hope you won't...
I know it's been a looong time between posts, but I'm a dog - and I get no treats for posting...
(actually, there's a lot going on in this dog's life:
- long weekend for the adults at SXSW in Austin - what a great town
- the idiot executor of the Twain estate editing classics - original reason for blogstrike
- squirrels
hope to share in more posts this week)
What I've mostly been doing for the last couple of months is reading through Atlas Shrugged. The adults were talking about the book, and a new movie adaptation of Part I that got released last week...
they saw the movie on opening night Friday. Apparently, it was very true to the book, which is good, but the book is 1000+ pages of exposition, which doesn’t necessarily lend well to the screen. This is neither a Michael Bay explosion-fest nor a Spielberg, when he's his most interesting, shallow dive (necessary for a mass audience) into deeper societal issues. This is a movie largely, and somewhat lovingly, created for the converted. If the book is important to you, you’ll overlook the production’s shortcomings – if not, you’ll likely wonder what the fuss is about the book.
They both enjoyed the movie, and would see sequels if they’re made. The longest-term benefit the movie will have is prompting the dad into another rereading of the source.
My rating:
Hovering dog (that's 4 paws up) for the idea of this movie.
2.5 paws for the actual execution, but that's actually ok.
0.0 paws for the unfortunately low KKR*
No dogs were harmed (or even visible, apparently) in this movie.
- Arf
(*KKR is a reference to a wonderful mainframe game/coding example called CATWARS from a million years ago. If you must know, it stands for Kitty Kill Ratio - you were rewarded in this game not only for removing the neighborhood of cats, but for doing it efficiently, keeping your KKR-per-turn high.
sigh - they just don't make games like this anymore)
More posts later this week. I promise.
Unless I forget.
- ReArf
(actually, there's a lot going on in this dog's life:
- long weekend for the adults at SXSW in Austin - what a great town
- the idiot executor of the Twain estate editing classics - original reason for blogstrike
- squirrels
hope to share in more posts this week)
What I've mostly been doing for the last couple of months is reading through Atlas Shrugged. The adults were talking about the book, and a new movie adaptation of Part I that got released last week...
they saw the movie on opening night Friday. Apparently, it was very true to the book, which is good, but the book is 1000+ pages of exposition, which doesn’t necessarily lend well to the screen. This is neither a Michael Bay explosion-fest nor a Spielberg, when he's his most interesting, shallow dive (necessary for a mass audience) into deeper societal issues. This is a movie largely, and somewhat lovingly, created for the converted. If the book is important to you, you’ll overlook the production’s shortcomings – if not, you’ll likely wonder what the fuss is about the book.
They both enjoyed the movie, and would see sequels if they’re made. The longest-term benefit the movie will have is prompting the dad into another rereading of the source.
My rating:
Hovering dog (that's 4 paws up) for the idea of this movie.
2.5 paws for the actual execution, but that's actually ok.
0.0 paws for the unfortunately low KKR*
No dogs were harmed (or even visible, apparently) in this movie.
- Arf
(*KKR is a reference to a wonderful mainframe game/coding example called CATWARS from a million years ago. If you must know, it stands for Kitty Kill Ratio - you were rewarded in this game not only for removing the neighborhood of cats, but for doing it efficiently, keeping your KKR-per-turn high.
sigh - they just don't make games like this anymore)
More posts later this week. I promise.
Unless I forget.
- ReArf
Monday, December 27, 2010
To all a good night, already...
I hate vacation time. Everyone’s always around the house lately. I can’t get my regular job done, or find some peace and quiet to just collect my thoughts, let alone scratch my butt and avoid being run over by R/C cars. …I can only choose one…
So anyway – big paws-up to the thousands of you who’ve been sending cards and notes of sympathy about how badly I’ve been treated, especially in this normally festive of holiday seasons, but I have to single out two people in particular for whom I will always wag a little faster whenever I think of them.
First of all, who is this Claws guy? I’d spent a month staking out the various places a robber with big claws could gain entry to the house (I figured this is where the term “Cat Burglar” started). The big night comes, and, nothing! I did my last rounds about 11 or 11:15. The kids were down, the bigs were still up (with a fire – it’s still scary, but it is warm…). I never know when they finally go to sleep, so I figured I’d catch a little nap while they were up. Couldn’t have been asleep more than 15 min (I swear!), and when I went upstairs there were millions of beautiful presents around the tree. I think I got some salt in my eye, or something, when I saw it… Plus, there was even a stocking with a ‘C’ on it for me!! There was a giant Dingo candy cane in it, and a giant rawhide bone bigger than my whole body.
Claws – I don’t know how you got past me, but, well played, and thank you again.
Finally, apparently I have a kennel in Florida that’s watching my back – Let’s just say I got a secret note from a remote outpost – if things get too bad here, maybe I can cheese it down there for a while. You know that people who send gourmet dog treats (in Chinese take out boxes so the stupid humans don’t get wise) have never starved a dog. I’m sure the treats (yeah, and the note) will keep me going throughout this long cold winter.
(Secret coded message: Istine-Cray: anks-thay or-fay the eats-tray. Ou-yay ock-ray). HEY - Whatever you do, don't highlight the secret message and STOP trying to figure it out! It isn’t for you and my mad crypto skills will only make your tiny brain hurt.
What, you ask, nothing else about the family?? FEH on the family. They drove me to this blog, didn’t they? They stopped feeding me, didn’t they? They terrorized me with their loud, fast toys, didn’t they? If it weren’t for the little things – the kids were very cute in their Blackhawk jerseys, the tree (and the fireplace, too) is starting to grow on me a little, and it was nice to see the big ones relax and have some fun this weekend - I might start to think cats were right all along…
Thanks to Jay, for making a wonderful dinner (even though all I could do was smell it), and to Jennifer for not hitting me too hard (hey – you’re new, it’s MY house – I get to sniff J).
Merry Christmas to everyone in and around my family.
Arf.
Friday, December 3, 2010
....weak...with....hunger....
...i'll try to stay focused long enough to get this post out....if I pass out, please send help...
Last Thursday was Thanksgiving, which we all know is an annual holiday for giving thanks for the dogs in your life. All that turkey and gravy and potatoes get tested for poison at the big table, and work their way down to my dish. It's a tradition.
Not this year.
I've been living through one of the most cruel and vile events ever to occur to a dog. I've been biting my leg a little - nothing serious (I'm a dog, remember??), but the girl started freaking out - so she scheduled a visit to the vet on Friday, after they came back from their little dinner trip on Thursday with mountains of leftovers in tow.
I get into the vet's office, little Bark Rarve statue - I figure everything's cool. I kid you not - the first words out of her lying mouth are "My Goddd. Look how fat that dog is. Oh-my-goodness, I don't think we all can fit in the same examining room." And it begins.
We left there with a mountain of pills and wipes and salves all meant to trim me down to size. That would have been OK, but the final killer edicts were "A little more tea. Cut down on the rice." which roughly translates to "cut the food in his dish in half, no human food, and no treats except for things you know he won't eat, like carrots or beans". As a practical matter, this means NO turkey, NO stuffing, NO gravy, NO NOTHING. Dear God - is this how you repay my loyalty... It's only been a few days, and I've wasted away to nothing...well...almost nothing...
...getting faint, will try to post more soon...send help (AND FOOD) if you can...mother, is that you??.....
...Arf...
Last Thursday was Thanksgiving, which we all know is an annual holiday for giving thanks for the dogs in your life. All that turkey and gravy and potatoes get tested for poison at the big table, and work their way down to my dish. It's a tradition.
Not this year.
I've been living through one of the most cruel and vile events ever to occur to a dog. I've been biting my leg a little - nothing serious (I'm a dog, remember??), but the girl started freaking out - so she scheduled a visit to the vet on Friday, after they came back from their little dinner trip on Thursday with mountains of leftovers in tow.
I get into the vet's office, little Bark Rarve statue - I figure everything's cool. I kid you not - the first words out of her lying mouth are "My Goddd. Look how fat that dog is. Oh-my-goodness, I don't think we all can fit in the same examining room." And it begins.
We left there with a mountain of pills and wipes and salves all meant to trim me down to size. That would have been OK, but the final killer edicts were "A little more tea. Cut down on the rice." which roughly translates to "cut the food in his dish in half, no human food, and no treats except for things you know he won't eat, like carrots or beans". As a practical matter, this means NO turkey, NO stuffing, NO gravy, NO NOTHING. Dear God - is this how you repay my loyalty... It's only been a few days, and I've wasted away to nothing...well...almost nothing...
...getting faint, will try to post more soon...send help (AND FOOD) if you can...mother, is that you??.....
...Arf...
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
For the purists...
Tuesday - started to eat a shoe - got a pretty good smack (4 or so CA). Are you happy now?
So, to retaliate, I decided to have a little sick-in this morning. No morning patrols, no happy greeting the kids at the stairs, no friendly acknowledgement of how yummy their breakfast looks. Nothing. Just sat in the crate all morning. I can't imagine how they started their day without me. That'll teach 'em.
Plus it was raining - they can't expect me to walk outside in the rain, now, can they? Fascists.
Tonight, I think I'll wait until the kids are asleep, and they start to watch a movie or something, then bark for about 45 minutes for no particular reason. That'll really teach 'em. ...or I'll get hit again - see what I do for you people...
(BTW - went to the polling place Tuesday, but they wouldn't let me vote. My IL License is up-to-date and everything... Had to walk around the block while the parents voted in turn. More on this later, unless I forget.)
Arf.
So, to retaliate, I decided to have a little sick-in this morning. No morning patrols, no happy greeting the kids at the stairs, no friendly acknowledgement of how yummy their breakfast looks. Nothing. Just sat in the crate all morning. I can't imagine how they started their day without me. That'll teach 'em.
Plus it was raining - they can't expect me to walk outside in the rain, now, can they? Fascists.
Tonight, I think I'll wait until the kids are asleep, and they start to watch a movie or something, then bark for about 45 minutes for no particular reason. That'll really teach 'em. ...or I'll get hit again - see what I do for you people...
(BTW - went to the polling place Tuesday, but they wouldn't let me vote. My IL License is up-to-date and everything... Had to walk around the block while the parents voted in turn. More on this later, unless I forget.)
Arf.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Hallow-where’s MY candy, you stupid humans??
I had a busy weekend – went to (another) football game on Saturday – the kid’s last – he made a couple of nice plays, but the real tailwagger was the pizza party afterwards. The family knows better, but around 30-40 new people, put on a little yelpy pouty face when no one’s looking, and – JACKPOT – I had all those other kids and their families eating out of my hands – well, actually, I was eating out of theirs J yum. Stupid humans.
For fun, they carved up pumpkins and put scary faces on them, and then do you know what they did? They LIT THEM ON FIRE. No, sir – the second I saw that fire, I ran as fast as I could for cover. Stupid humans.
Went trick-or-treating with the kids and girl on Sunday night. Where’s PETA? If I go begging for food, I get hit (or worse). No two ways around it. But they prance around the neighborhood in costumes, shooting things and scaring people, demanding candy...and everyone not only gives them candy (!), but they tell them what good boys they are (still having trouble understanding English – it was something like that – anyway, they WEREN’T GETTING HIT). It’s a tough life being a dog, I tells ya. Stupid humans.
BTW – the dad and the little kid ran a 5K yesterday – and the old guy looked pretty bad afterwards. There’s a word for that shade of green, but I’m a dog, so I don’t know it. Stupid humans.
I know what you’re thinking – I haven’t really been hit in a few days – yeah, well, I know. Whaddaya want me to do about it? Jump up on a counter and take a bullet for your benefit? Not gonna happen. They gave me a baseball the other day – ripped the cover off in about 2 minutes – did you know there were worms inside a baseball?? Yeah – I have a short attention span – hey, was that a squirrel?
Arf.
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