Ha! I gotchya there, didn’t I? Yes, it’s true that I fought a sock today, sure, but if y’all ACTUALLY BELIEVED that the sock won, well, you don’t know the Rubinman very well, do yoos? Like a sock would beat me! No, I totally defeated that sucker - ripped it right off Terry’s foot, threw it about some, broke its stupid neck, KILLED IT. I had no mercy, and that’s because I? Was raised by wolves.

Also: that stupid rubbish Pepeman is here again. Like I don’t have enough to do without keepin’ that dude in line all day. Today I was busy playing with my ponkies, and the Pepe started doing this mad cackling, like it was LAUGHING at me or something. I know! Ha, bet it was laughin’ on the other side of its green feathered face after it saw the masterful way I dealt with the sock, eh?

You’ll keep, Pepeman, you’ll keep…

GOD. My life is SO hard right now, let me tell you. I’m like, stressed to the MAXX here, you know what I mean? Seriously, I’m “run ragged”. I’m, like, up at 7am every morning to get in some solid barking time before breakfast, then once They’re up, I have to totally beg ALL DAY for food. ALL DAY, people. Yes, the Rubinman is a beggar. I know! SO unfair and you might say thet hey, They would probably feed me anyway, even if I didn’t beg, but, it’s like, how can I take that risk? So I beg all day, then I have to take Amber for a walk, and then I have to beg some more for TREATS.

No one understands how hard it is being me. It’s like, you know that song what the Beatles wrote? The one where they’re all “Oooh, it’s been a hard days night and I’ve been working like a DOG”? Yeah, right, sure yoos have. Nancy boys wouldn’t know a hard day’s night if a hard day’s night came right up to them and BIT THEM ON THE BUMs. And as for workin’ like a dog, it’s like, yoos come and swap places with the Rubinman for ONE DAY, John, Paul, George and Ringo, THEN we’ll talk, hmmm’kay?

Oh man, wait till I tell you what I did last night! You will be, like, SO impressed!

So, as y’all know, because they are as mad as fish, Amber and Terry like to confine me to Azkaban of an evening. Well, Sting and Bob Geldof never did turn up to FREE ME, so for months now I have been forumulating a plan - a plan that I cunningly put into action last night.

Last night, you see, was "windy", and I don’t mean in the "OMG, Rubinman, have you farted again?" kind of way. No, it, was, like, a STORM, and as I sat there, deep within the confines of AZKABAN, listening to the wind howl around the house, I knew that my time had come. It was time for the Rubinman to be free, and to take his rightful place in the BIG BED - Amber and Terry’s basket, upstairs.

Well, I started barking. Every time the wind howled, the Rubinman howled with it. I barked and I barked until I was actually starting to annoy even myself. I knew it would be worth it, though. I knew it would get a reaction, and, sure enough, after not very long, Terry showed up. Man, he was MAD. He was, like, totally shouting and saying BAD WORDS at me like a crazymad thing, so what I did was, I shut up until he was on his way back to his basket, and then I started it up again. And again. And again. God, it was the best performance of my life. Terry was getting madder by the moment, but I knew that within twenty minutes I’d be upstairs and I’d be in that there BIG BED right along with Them.

I gave myself thirty minutes to break him. It only took about ten. Before I knew what was happening, I was upstairs. He had brung my bed with him, but, like I was going to sleep on the floor! No way, man. I just waited until he lay down, then I jumped out and ran round the bedroom like a madman, popping my head up every now and then - POP!

Within minutes, I had achieved my goal. I was picked up and allowed to sleep in the BIG BED, and, it’s like, that’s where I’ll be sleeping from now on, dudes. I just need to work out how to get A&T out of the way - let them sleep in Azkaban from now on, see how they like it.

Anyway, enough of this. Before I go, though, I just want to clear something up. Quite a lot of yoos have been askin’ me lately if I really write the blawg myself. Yoos are all, "You’re a dog, dude, you can’t type, I bet Amber writes it for you!" Well, yoos are WRONG. This here blawg is all my own work, and to prove it, here is a picture of me "blogging". As you can see, got me a GREAT BIG keyboard, so’s I can type. SO THERE.

Smell yas, dudes!
Rubin

Oh man, lookit what I got, I gotta PINK BOWL!

Now, I know what yoos all are thinkin’. Yoos are all, "OMG he gotta SISSY GIRL BOWL!" Well, shows what yoos know, eh? Yeah, OK, personally I would’ve preferred the bowl in red because people are, like, always telling me that red is SO my colour, and they are totally right about that, but actually, the Rubinman can carry off any colour really. When you’re as fierce and scary as I am, ain’t no pink bowl in the WORLD can make you look like a sissy. Also, the pink bowl has a crown on it, and that is because I am totally doggie royalty. For real.

Anyway, as you can tell by the "buying of the bowl", Amber and Terry are liking me again, and that’s because I’ve toned it down a bit with the whole peeing in the house thing. Any more would’ve been overkill, you know what I’m saying? Also, it’s more effective if I lull them into a false sense of security for a while and then BAM! Pee on the kitchen floor! Hee! Anyway, they get over excited when I’m REALLY bad, so I haveta watch it sometimes.

NOT a sissy bowl! RAAAAR!

Yeah, so last night? After we’d got home from my Norma and John’s? I waited till A&T were asleep then I crapped all over my bed. Yes, AGAIN! That’s three beds I’ve ruined this week alone - three beds AND Azkaban. Man, I am ON A ROLL here, people. Also: Amber and Terry don’t speak to me no more. They have, like, NO sense of humour AT ALL. I mean, why so serious all the time?

Anyway, I totally don’t want to talk about it anymore, it’s just, like, SO last night. Oh OK, I will: I will talk about it because actually? Things are quite serious. A&T are REALLY not happy with me. This morning they were all "BAAAAAAD boy" for, like, HOURS. I think I will have to leave to leave home. They don’t understand me, here. Also, I think what they’ll probably do is, they’ll probably get another pet to replace me, and that other pet will probably be that freakin’ Pepeman. GOD.

Just in case you’re wonderin’, by the way, I am STILL not afraid of the Pepe. No way. Quite the opposite, in fact - it was here a few weeks ago, and it was obviously TERRIFIED of me. Lookit!

People, I stand before you, an accused man, accused of a crime I… well, OK, I DID commit, but seriously – I’m angry. And trust me, given the wolf blood that runs in my veins, you do NOT want to see the Rubinman angry, no you do not.

And my accuser? Why, it’s none other than my very own Terry. Who has attacked me here, in my very own blawg. Did you ever hear the like?! His accusations are as follows:

1. That I did wake Them up with my barking at 6am.
Yep, that was me, I dun it. Guilty as charged, your honour. But one thing you forgot to mention, Terry, is WHY I was barking at 6am. BECAUSE I HAD CRAPPED ON THE SPARE ROOM FLOOR AND I WANTED YOU TO GET IT WHILE IT WAS FRESH, that’s why. I mean, do you know how much trouble I went to to pull that one off? You were having one of those “deadlines” you sometimes get, so you were stlll up at 3am. I had to GO OUT at that time and, like, pretend to go about my business, but ACTUALLY hold it in so I could do it later, on the floor. And I did. And I’d do it again. So who looks stupid now, huh Terry? HUH?

2. That I did crap down my own leg.
Yeah, yeah, OK, I did that too. GOD, what is this, the Spanish inquisition or something? And don’t try and tell me you’ve never crapped down your own leg, Terry, we all know you’re lying. Let he who has never crapped down his own leg throw the first stone, that’s what I always say.

3. That I did play “Let’s Hide Under the Bed for No Reason” multiple times
OK, first of all? It’s not called ‘Let’s Hide Under the Bed for No Reason’, it’s called ‘Terry’s A Big Fat Dumbass, and He Knows He Is’, and you would KNOW that if you took the time to PLAY THE GAME WITH ME rather than just staring at the stupid computer box all the time. And I mean, what can I say? I like it when you chase me. I like seeing the look on your face when you realise that, once again, the Rubinman is under the bed and you can’t get him out because he’s TOO QUICK FOR YOU, Terry. Ha! Can’t touch this!

Now, I know you’re probably also going to want to bring up the  issue of What Happened Last Night, so  I’ll just address that one too. Yes, I crapped on two beds. Both sides, top AND bottom. That’s pretty much THREE layers of bedding crapped on. (And by the way, a little bit of credit would be nice, no?). And yeah, yeah, I topped it off with a bit of a pee. SO? They were MY BEDS to pee on – mine. Not yours, so I don’t know why you got all snarky about it. Anyway, it was raining yesterday. The Rubinman doesn’t like the rain, you know that. When it rains I just PRETEND to go out to do my business. Then I come back in and crap in the house. BIG DEAL. Get over it, Terry. Or I’ll do it again tonight. Hee!

Ha! I stick my tounge out at you, Terry. I lick my own nose while I’m at it. Can YOU lick your own nose, Terry? Ha! Didn’t think so…

Rubin

So, got me a new blog. Lookit! Same as the old blawg really, only nice and spanky and new. Also: red, like my stupid-ass red coat (which, by the way, don’t even talk to me about that because winter’s a comin’ and so’s the red coat, you know what I’m sayin’?)

Anyway, yeah, shiny new red blawg. Rubinman is back in business, oh yes he is, and I bet y’all are wondering what he’s been doing while he’s been gone? A LOT is the answer to that. Because I am cunning like a fox, though, the main thing I’ve been doing is I’ve been PEEING right under A&T’s noses. Right. Under. Their. Noses. I kid you not.

There they’ll be, sitting staring at the stupid computer boxes. There I’ll be, lurking, waitin’ for the right moment. Then the moment comes, and what I’ll do is, I’ll sneak under Amber’s chair and I’ll do me a pee. They have NO IDEA - no idea AT ALL, right up until one of them sniffs the air and is all, “Wait - what’s that funny smell?” Hee! Total genius, right there, and the best thing about it? It’s too late for them to give me a row! I pee completely free of punishment - peein’ for free, that’s me. God, I crack myself up sometimes I really do.

Oh yeah, and I totally sleep in their bed now, and ain’t nothin’ they can do about it. Hee!

This update comes to you live from the “Sin-bin”, where I’ve been remanded in custody by Terry after a day of total and utter BADNESS.

First there was the matter of Amber’s flowers. Well. Somehow during the night Amber had growed two flowers in the garden. Well, I don’t know how she did it, but they weren’t there the night before, and in the morning Amber was looking at them all smiley, so she must have growed them. Which was silly of her. I mean, they were right there in front of me – tall and obscenely orange. You know that thing people say about how dogs are colourblind? Crap. It’s just not true. If it was true, then those flowers wouldn’t have annoyed me this morning: I just wouldn’t have seen them, and if I hadn’t seen then, I wouldn’t have ran over to them and bit both their heads off before the orange-headed freaks knew what had hit them. Well Amber went crazy. Crazy like a LOON. She went so crazy that she totally distracted me from what I was supposed to be doing in the garden in the first place in the morning – the result being that I crapped on her bedroom floor while she was drying her hair. Well, you would have done the same.

I quietened down a bit during the day. Shredded up a newspaper while she was working right enough, but I reserved the real BADNESS for when Terry came home. Then I just went for it. I started making out like I needed a pee, so they had to keep getting me up and taking me out: then when I got outside I’d eat stones, sticks – even managed to pull a small BRANCH of one of their trees and eat it – anything except answer the call of nature. Finally they’d get bored of standing at the door watching me, so they’d go back inside – at which point I’d turn up and make like I needed a pee again. So frustrating for them! Finally they put me outside and told me to just get on with it. At which point the fat kid from next door turned up.

He turned up with a GUN. I kid you not. The fat kid was carrying a freakin’ gun. Well, what’s a wolf to do? Bearing in mind that it’s up to me to guard the house, I started barking my ass off. Then Terry appeared, wanted me to come inside. Like, no way! So I started running. I ran flat out round the garden. Round and round and round the garden, Terry chasing me the whole way. He wouldn’t give up, but neither would the Rubinman. I ran like that for like an HOUR, it was truly an awesome sight. Amber leaned out of the spare room window and laughed at Terry the whole time. He didn’t catch me: I’m fast like a JAGUAR. Finally I stopped to get me a drink of water, and Terry just, like, picked me up and put me in the Sin Bin. Hee, though! I rock!

We have new people next door. There’s some guy who looks like Harry Potter, and there’s a fat kid who’s scared of me. Hee! I mean, I can’t blame him really - I can be quite terrifying until you get to know me. You only have to look at me. Anyway, as soon as they moved in I went into the back garden and barked at them, let them know who’s boss. It’s best they start off knowing there’s a WOLF next door…

So anyways, took Amber for a quick walk at lunchtime today because quite frankly she could be doing with the exercise, but god, what a nightmare…

We got to the end of the street. Everything was fine, Amber was safely attached to the string-thing, I’m having a good smell of everything. On the corner of the street was a van. In the driver’s seat of the van was a dog. A HUGE dog. It was, like, the size of a BEAR or something. Well, as soon as it seen me, it went for me. It was barking, slobbering, throwing itself against the window, everything. What a freakin CLOWN! Hee! It obvioulsy felt really threatened by me, which is understandable, I mean, you only need to look at me…

Anyway, I may not know much, but I know that dogs who drive VANS are bad news. To start with I was like, “bring it on pal”, but I had to think about Amber - I mean, I’d have happily taken it on, but Amber would have been scared (in fact, she looked quite scared anyway) so I did the only thing I could do in the circumstances - I turned and RAN. I turned and ran right into a WALL.

God, how embarrassing. I’m sure that freakin idiot was LAUGHING at me. Anyway, I managed to get Amber the hell out there, but our walk was ruined. Then it started to rain, so we went home. Amber was all, “oooh, Rubin, you were so brave, you’re a good boy!” I was like, “whatever.” But it was true.

In my time, I’ve often been described as a "dirty dog". Indeed, there are those who have described me as a "filthy dog", and still others who have called me a "BAAAAD BOY", or a "dirty wee b******d". But those people are WRONG my friends, for the Rubinman, he is as clean and as pure as the driven snow. I mean, I even brush my freaking TEETH:

I know what yoos are thinkin’, by the way. Y’all are like, "no way is the Rubinman actually using that brush, he’s just posing with it little a stupid sissy dog." But you are WRONG. See?

Ha! Watch me go! I hope this clarifies the whole "Just a dog" rumour that goes around about me, people. Oh yeah, you think I don’t know, but let me tell you, the Rubinman knows ALL. I know, for example, that they are planning on sending me to "Las Vegas" for A&T’s wedding, and y’know what? I’m starting to doubt that place even IS Las Vegas. It’s like, I didn’t see no Elvis when I was there, y’hear what I’m sayin’?

Anyway, just take note here: if I can brush my teeth like a human, you just don’t know WHAT else the Rubinman can do. Just a thought for you.

So, not a lot happenin’. Terry still mad as a brush. He’s, like, totally obsessed with my PAWS. "Give me a paw," he’ll say, a few times a day. I mean, why? What does he want my paw for? "Get your own paw," I always feel like saying, but once I’ve handed over the paw he always make a big fuss of me, and sometimes I get a sweetie, so I put up with it. MAD, though. And another thing: what’s with the whole "Sit - stand - lie down" routine that he keeps making me go through? I mean, you don’t see me walking up to him and going, "Hi Terry - SIT! Now LIE DOWN!" do you? So why does he do it to me? Because he’s MAD, that’s why.

Smell ya’s later, folks
Rubin