Posts Tagged ‘Why Humans are Strange’
Non Sequiter Day at Winston’s World
I am not a big fan of my mother right now…
Read my last post for better reading:
18
06 2008
Yawn, literally
http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAP0YN7YpWvFNWPjMMOzGjlU1agsxYmOFCbjo4uxAS8bJNoIzSpNNsZByrxwAqJWzioiJWRgBqtnqMadlicFc7jIcjUOcLCf7OUyFNAvyT52H6_iyh81aWAPtRWlBoLFaIeNhVdyjc6mGP9bGP-ilGd9gNY8NAfYVWcfkjwvksRRY8utpHbTJfuj6peL3RqtwfQqUBxGn-fIvbRJkG8zH1eP5X17t8A5TEkj7wLwi-UYL%26sigh%3D5PyCD5p5hV9E9tnqT3hU7IWnzcM%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&nogvlm=1&thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daafba2a27348faeb%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DMaNLm8nedNgu9RNED872eSIz6yQ&messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den
Mom discovered that she could make me yawn on command yesterday, and it was kind of fun to yawn when she yawned. Yet, of course, as soon as I am on video trying to do it, it only works once, boring. Anyway, here is the yawn of a video, with everyone yawning but me…
16
06 2008
And now for something different
I present, “A Standing Dog in Motion” Enjoy.
http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAPCZD0ddCGBZjZs6HcCGJYeezVzyDbniGWFb926kEgHuOCVANdf73Tv2xiXjmmk11LMz5R3L8zB7l3rhVEGJbK3thrd-edeiaC20sF_BIQ2nF_omSnmj-3cQw_a_AMx8e1KO3PI4wJjUUWjaTu8rpxWYjzXVZ9eEf8cN65ykLwBq3neRsndU8Xu-h0D2GfeK96b0llgPBRMkfAnC3ncTxuKNEZvd-Xok_Lo02ZhxzUU-%26sigh%3DxeoYR_b33exUTUMKzPxXkLRy70M%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&nogvlm=1&thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D4d3b553ae93cce52%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3D0KYS98nPzVF28QNjy-XOD8SGlOA&messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den
Blogger is releasing its new video service for its blogs, so lets give it a tryout. This is Mom’s video taken a long time ago, I was doing something interesting before then, but then I stopped. Needless to say, while Mom and Dad’s new camera would take videos, after dad dropped it off a parking meter on the C&O; Canal path, it won’t anymore.
This video was taken with Mom’s old camera, which is a clunker and doesn’t even have sound! What can you do? So I am going to try to convince mom to convince dad to get a digital video recorder, something small, and with a hard disk so there can be more dog video!
And now for the sound: Woof!
26
09 2007
How Old is too Old?
Well I turn (ahem) 7 on October 6th; 1 whole human year! Being 7 really makes a dog think, especially since everyone else’s blog is all about age, I mean, what is a poor puppy to do? So here are my thoughts:
60 is the new 40? Doubtful, 8 is the new 6! But not really with Dogs, I mean, we still live to the same old ripe age of 15, usually. I guess that is pretty long, though, comparatively speaking.
How old is too old? None of this divide by 2 add seven, the vet already took care of that so I don’t have to worry about it, and it sucks! And… I am not any less aggresive, so there!
Old humans are as much fun as young humans, and I can catch them easier…
Tags: Why Humans are Strange
24
09 2007
Why Being a Dog ROCKS!
Mom is shivering, and I’m laughing at her, because as a dog I’m not bothered. The house is cold, because the painters came and painted up everything and none of the windows can be shut right now. And the sun may be out, but it’s only 8 degress (Celcius, you colonials!). But all I have to do is turn off my shedding and chase the sun across the floor, and I’m just fine!
And there are side benefits to having so many windows open. Like at night, while Mom and Dad are being boring, I can chase all the little bugs that fly in! So much fun! And, I can hear whatever’s going on outside, so I can be super-vigilant and let my parents know if anyone is going by our yard. I feel like that’s pretty important information to know.
Mom’s been complaining so much, though, that I’ve been perfecting a special look to give her: The Sideways Glance of Disdain.
Some of us like the windows open, Mom! Woof!
18
09 2007
Dog Fighting (Serious)
Ok, this is my serious face now. I was watching BBC Breakfast with my mom and dad the other day, and one of their stories had to do with Dog Fighting in the UK. At first, I sat up to listen, thinking they were talking about the dog wrestling I do with Dad, but I was mistaken. In fact, they actually make dogs mean to each other and try to kill each other! I think I briefly heard the whole Michael Vick thing- that guy was a jerk, and I don’t know if that was even handled properly- but things are much, much wierder here in the UK. In the U.S., and rightly so, Vick was blamed for his behaviour concerning those dogs- the dogs that were still healthy were rescued, even if some of them had to be put down because they were too mean or too sick (but they were put down humanely) the dogs and puppies that could be rehabilitated, were. Does that happen in the UK? No.
In the UK- they blame the dogs! In fact, as it turns out, pitbulls are illegal in this country. Now, I am a well bread dog, and dogs of my breed have won Crufts, so I am not worried about me, but the fact remains- I am a Staffordshire Bull Terrier (and proud of it), and the Bull part is still there. Apperently, Irish Bull Terriers, American Pitbulls, and many other types of Bull and Bull Terrier can just be hauled off and executed in this country- talk about big brother!
First- dogs are naturally instinctive, we used to run in packs, and we have the alpha male sense, which means we want to be the alpha male in our pack. We also hunt for food, and eat meat. It makes sense that we are tough. However- the dog breeds in question are also domesticated- meaning that our pack now consists of humans, and the alpha male (at least here in leckford road) is dad. We eat dog food out of a bowl and human food off the table- we don’t hunt, and we certianly aren’t savage.
In fact, we are what our humans want us to be. I sit, go couch, stay in a kennel, and do my business outside because that is what my alpha and mom taught me to do. Sure I am a little bull-like- I pull on the lead, and I am nippy; but my parents have taught me to be friendly and to heel when they want me to heel. I love people and other dogs, and I am just overexicited in my exuberence of being friendly like my parents taught me.
If overexuberience is one of our genetic personality traits, then dog owners like those in the news article I linked the title to, are just using that enthusiasm for a poor end- trust me, you have to train a dog to be mean- you have to hit it, not feed it, and make it hate other dogs- all things that since it didn’t happen to me, mean I don’t attack other dogs.
Anyway, this law against pitbulls has made sort of a dog racism in this country. Even though I am a superior breed and am one of the most beautfully showed dogs in the world, whenever I meet other dogs on the meadow, chances are the owner of that dog is not happy to let me near the dog, thinking I am a big mean pittbull- and that simply isn’t the case. (A little backwards, here aren’t we people?)
MR. BROWN- PUNISH THE HUMANS INVOLVED IN DOG-FIGHTING SO SEVERELY THAT YOU DON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ANY DOGS HURTING LITTLE GIRLS (because they won’t want to do it anymore).
31
08 2007
A Broken Spirit doth a Sad Dog make
So, picture this, folks. It was Thursday, and my Mom was taking me for a walk along the canal. I was having a great time–I met a schnauzer, I sniffed the breeze, I watched bicyclists go by. Then, I found a primo poop spot and managed, even though Mom was keeping a close eye and a firm grasp on me, to smudge a little bit onto my neck (on the white part, so it was especially becoming) and on my collar.
Mom seemed disgusted at first, but then when we got to a nice grassy playground, she let me roll around with all abandon! And I mean, for about 5 minutes (35 doggie minutes!!). I thought she had finally calmed down. We even took a new route home through the meadow, along a muddy cowpath, and I had some great-smelling stuff on my feet! I really felt like a dog!
Turns out, she was leading me like a lamb to the slaughter. I knew something was wrong when she didn’t take me off my leash before opening the front door. And when she started gathering up my dog towels, I tried to bolt–but what could I do? I was still leashed. And so, I resigned myself…and had a bath.
I even tried to act noble, hardly trying to escape and mostly just standing there as she unrelentingly soaped me up and rinsed me off, soaped me up and rinsed me off, soaped me up and rinsed me off…but inside my heart was breaking! I had never smelled so good in my whole life, and in a matter of 5 minutes (35 doggie minutes) she destroyed all I had built.
What’s worse, she even washed my collar and in the meantime I have to wear my ridiculous baby collar. I feel like such a loser. I’m just going to go lay in a patch of sun and try to dream my troubles away.
Woof!
25
08 2007
Toothbrushing Saturday
Today was tootbrushing day! Normally I get a denta-bone or something of that sort to brush my teeth with- but apperently the Vet thought that was the weak way to do it, and managed to convince mom to buy some expensive chicken-flavored (delicious) toothpaste that was vet approved! Dad got me a Spongebob Squarepants toothbrush, and today we brushed my teeth!I didn’t really know what was in store for me, because I have never done this before- and it didn’t help that Dad and I were dog-wrestling before we did the brushing, so I think I was more aggressive than I could have been- but the chicken toothpate was so good that I couldn’t resist, I finally gave up trying to kill Spongebob and let dad brush. Unfortunately the damage was already done…
Well, I guess its back to dentabones for me! Woof!
18
08 2007
Stuffed Stuff
Some animals have a sweet tooth. Myself, I have a stuff tooth. I just love stuffing.
It started when both of my grandmas sent me stuffed toys. Fun to play with; better to unstuff. It turns wherever I’ve been chewing into a cloud of deliciousness.
Just today, though, I realized Mom and Dad have been holding out on me. That whole big blanket thing we all sleep under is just full of stuffing. It’s stuffed! It’s literally a giant bag of stuff!
Dad seems to want it all to himself, though, and I got in big trouble for just having a tiny nibble this morning. And a larger nibble this afternoon. What’s the big deal? There’s stuffing enough for all of us!
Of course, I would settle for some of Mom and Dad’s Victorian sponge cake. And Mom’s stuffed animals. I think that’s a reasonable counter-offer.
Woof!
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