tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33793156004406517012024-03-28T22:28:38.130-05:00A Pet Capybara's View of the WorldThe life and times of Caplin Rous, a pet capybara living in central Texas.Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-44217180820672099102009-05-30T07:15:00.002-05:002009-05-30T07:17:32.601-05:00Blog moved to www.GiantHamster.comHi all!<br /><br />Thanks for being loyal followers of my blog but I have outgrown blogspot and moved to my own website at www.GiantHamster.com. Please follow me there. I think you'll like the new look and content. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!<br /><br />Caplin RousCaplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-12689666034097858822009-05-18T13:03:00.007-05:002009-05-18T13:21:24.695-05:00How to train humansSurvey Results:<br />What's your social media connection to Caplin Rous?<br /><ol><li> I am a HUGE fan of his on MySpace! (8 22%)</li><li>MySpace is lame, that's why I'm FaceBook friends with Caplin. (10 27%)</li><li>Those are both so early 2000s. Obviously I follow Caplin on twitter. (17 47%)</li><li>Hey, Caplin has more than this old-school blog? Who knew? (13 36%)</li><li>Caplin? Who's that? (1 2%)<br /></li></ol> 36 total votes (multiples allowed)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Statistics:<br />Starting view count: 3071<br />Followers: 54<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqVH0I-6g47Jf7I-1lMcF2xHEHjDWGKrtPLzbvvYdGMoHs-S_g4JUxm30k2xKig7UIqLfq1wLVdALD32NTUR5jp1efZPyjb8Da9LciMzDbr_qTA49_ACPhOxWS6W-aw8xDjK5-1xPysk/s1600-h/2009_02_22_01_sCaplinBed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqVH0I-6g47Jf7I-1lMcF2xHEHjDWGKrtPLzbvvYdGMoHs-S_g4JUxm30k2xKig7UIqLfq1wLVdALD32NTUR5jp1efZPyjb8Da9LciMzDbr_qTA49_ACPhOxWS6W-aw8xDjK5-1xPysk/s320/2009_02_22_01_sCaplinBed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337230323167848082" border="0" /></a>Looking cute with my head on my paws<br /></div><br />Lately I've had quite a few animal friends--<span style="font-style: italic;">anipals</span> as we call each other--comment on how well-trained my humans are. In fact, my references to my female human as <span style="font-style: italic;">my owner</span> seem almost ludicrous considering that the asymmetrical aspects of our relationship are all in my favor. If one of us owns the other, clearly I own her.<br /><br />After much consideration, I have decided to share some of my human-training tips with all pets in the spirit of making the world a better place. Please read this blog completely, take notes and study the potential application of these methods to your humans before attempting to apply them. Use caution: we don't want any accidents.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rule 1: Be cute</span><br />This is almost too trivial to mention but it is the foundation of all human training. Your power over humans is based on your inherent cuteness and humans obvious ugliness.<br /><br />Just because being cute is easy doesn't mean you shouldn't practice. Find a full-length mirror or other reflective surface. Lie down in front of it and rest your head on your paws. Practice looking up in a wistful way. Don't forget your ears! If you have floppy ears like some rabbits, try different positions. Do the ears look best lying flat along your back or draped over your eyes? For cats, try holding a toy such as a catnip mouse in your paws. Dogs should have a stick or a Frisbee, that serves the double purpose of making you look cute and your owner feel guilty.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycqDujkP7emqA1cm-4G3luthUtVaS-XAqySu0cHYdFF3Xpzwmmy0hvhv2sblL8VBuhyphenhyphen4tt8A4g1yBm6QOXxy94uJVrcGxfVq0KUH3yHs_XfkNa3ET0N8sIzcAZWQDDohZsMqLVhVUKVM/s1600-h/2009_05_18_01_sCaplinMirror.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycqDujkP7emqA1cm-4G3luthUtVaS-XAqySu0cHYdFF3Xpzwmmy0hvhv2sblL8VBuhyphenhyphen4tt8A4g1yBm6QOXxy94uJVrcGxfVq0KUH3yHs_XfkNa3ET0N8sIzcAZWQDDohZsMqLVhVUKVM/s320/2009_05_18_01_sCaplinMirror.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226705705477554" border="0" /></a>It doesn't hurt to practice your tricks in front of a mirror too.<br />It's hard to improve on how cute I am here.<br /><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rule 2: Don't do anything without a treat</span><br />Here's where most dogs go wrong, cats generally get this right. Don't chase that ball, shake that hand, or roll over if there is no obvious reward waiting for you when you're done. After you do your "trick," sit down and wait as long as it takes to get the treat.<br /><br />This rule is critical! Breaking this rule even once leads your humans to believe that they are in control. This must not happen. The first few times may take a while but eventually your human's response time will shorten and the treat will be available immediately upon completion of the requested task.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYDrLRACzfQ_B1I5Hb5nkUXWMPHB-siX231gOgLRSTTp2TY46SFQ8h28MWjsfZClm2X6HLHv233VkegUz7rxU1710B2Gy10gMk8aOW0_GgBJIg0RiuVjOxzxWYdDQsgp08ctmJ3hjjDg/s1600-h/2009_05_09_03_sCaplinSlide.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYDrLRACzfQ_B1I5Hb5nkUXWMPHB-siX231gOgLRSTTp2TY46SFQ8h28MWjsfZClm2X6HLHv233VkegUz7rxU1710B2Gy10gMk8aOW0_GgBJIg0RiuVjOxzxWYdDQsgp08ctmJ3hjjDg/s320/2009_05_09_03_sCaplinSlide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226601534858546" border="0" /></a>Does it look like I am doing a trick without a treat here?<br /></div><br />If you have broken this rule in the past, a great deal of patience and repetition will be required before you can retrain your human to the correct behavior. As you're waiting, remind yourself how you got into this mess and don't give in again.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pWbcnAP_2aCcNcSDAdlw-4d_wjmJi1Mf6Vle0-m-KQudYIVJvohJSGmfsU_CWoGpps501Aw0wqz_eV4AainWDBMvKcsEFUNp8PvTidcQB89xuDN-iLk8_ftr7Y7yafW1Yk4JDIa5AMM/s1600-h/2009_05_09_04_sCaplinSlide.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pWbcnAP_2aCcNcSDAdlw-4d_wjmJi1Mf6Vle0-m-KQudYIVJvohJSGmfsU_CWoGpps501Aw0wqz_eV4AainWDBMvKcsEFUNp8PvTidcQB89xuDN-iLk8_ftr7Y7yafW1Yk4JDIa5AMM/s320/2009_05_09_04_sCaplinSlide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337226455033636354" border="0" /></a>Sheldon was just off-camera with the treat.<br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rule 3: Don't forget the praise</span><br />It is important that you reward your human's good behavior with appropriate praise. After I get a tasty treat, I always remember to wiggle my ears. My humans love this, but yours may be different. Pay attention to your humans, what small thing can you do to make them happy? Then do that promptly after they've behaved correctly. Remember, delayed praise does not work with them, the more quickly you respond, the better.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL54MKv8jzFoO6WJ8al85nIvJy6PidkhAcfg1Ka_scrxZeMW47O90q7vAk7k0zFEiBPb2fuc-KnI5vpdVKZOoXOR1QXyv_XfdO3M8I5RejqZL_jg-LOdLs6QS_QIC3_ZsT8mj8BPwLGaw/s1600-h/2009_05_08_01_sCaplinMe.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL54MKv8jzFoO6WJ8al85nIvJy6PidkhAcfg1Ka_scrxZeMW47O90q7vAk7k0zFEiBPb2fuc-KnI5vpdVKZOoXOR1QXyv_XfdO3M8I5RejqZL_jg-LOdLs6QS_QIC3_ZsT8mj8BPwLGaw/s320/2009_05_08_01_sCaplinMe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337227205252219442" border="0" /></a>In this photo I reward my owner by sitting on her lap.<br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rule 4: Eeep so they can't sleep</span><br />This rule firmly establishes you as the dominant member of the pet-human partnership. Don't let your humans think they have control over when you deserve a treat. The best way to prove that you are in control is to wake your humans in the middle of the night and demand a treat. This will prove, even to their self-centric minds, that you are in control.<br /><br />I implement this rule by jumping into my humans' bed and eeping loudly in their ears. If this doesn't work, I tap them on the face with my paw. Dogs may bark but not too loudly. If there are small children or babies in the household, you don't want to wake them or your humans will have to deal with that rather than giving you your treat.<br /><br />This is another rule that is difficult for cats. No biting! Kneading is okay as long as it is not too painful. The goal here is to get a treat, not to be locked out of the bedroom. It is best if you can just purr very, very loudly. Humans find it almost impossible to get mad at you for that. If all else fails, sit on your human's face.<br /><br />That should be enough to get you going. You can leave questions or additional tips in the comments section.<br /><br />And remember, only positive feedback works with humans so don't bite the hand that feeds you!Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-73631338945676935982009-05-09T18:55:00.009-05:002009-05-10T08:37:45.538-05:00Socially savvy capySurvey Results:<br />How many toes do capybaras have?<br /><ol><li> Four. You can only count one per foot since they're webbed. (3 12%)</li><li>Ten. All normal animals have five digits on each foot. (3 12%)</li><li>Sixteen. Four on each foot. (4 16%)</li><li>Twelve. Three on each foot. (1 4%)</li><li>Fourteen. Three on the left hand/foot, four on the right hand/foot. (0 0%)</li><li>Fourteen. Four on the front, three on the back. (12 50%)</li><li>Fourteen. Three on the front, four on the back. (1 4%)<br /></li></ol>24 votes (no multiples)<br />Well, you're half right. I mean exactly half of you were right. I have 14 toes, four on the front, three on the back. You get to count all of them even if they are webbed.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Statistics:<br />Starting view count: 2520<br />Followers: 49<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_kdPBJ8Msb1kM7NFbhm2bLJLtJ08ADRpnpHZ7FS6fbYvt7Pn7QeZhQMqEB6zsbQKzN_tNTvEcboJI9YQutE0UJTwBaimckW_r2yajNBoSn5nu-U2HvTvGpO0wOA0DLQDg3lD9WPfsgKU/s1600-h/2009_05_09_01_sCaplinComputer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_kdPBJ8Msb1kM7NFbhm2bLJLtJ08ADRpnpHZ7FS6fbYvt7Pn7QeZhQMqEB6zsbQKzN_tNTvEcboJI9YQutE0UJTwBaimckW_r2yajNBoSn5nu-U2HvTvGpO0wOA0DLQDg3lD9WPfsgKU/s320/2009_05_09_01_sCaplinComputer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333977459877165458" border="0" /></a>Me checking my social media.<br />Don't pretend you never saw an animal use the computer before!<br /></div><br />A fact that may surprise many humans is that the internet is slowly being taken over by animals. When you think about it, it makes sense. The internet is all about communicating interesting information from one--let's call them "person"--to another--again just a convenient term and not meant to imply human--"person." But what have humans got to say that's all that interesting? Nothing, that's what.<br /><br />I was born on July 10, 2007. By August 21, when I was just over one month old, I wrote my first blog entry on MySpace. The title of that first post was "A day in the life of a capybara." Admit it, it sounds interesting right? Don't panic, <a href="http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendId=233035961&page=4">here's the link</a>. Try substituting the world's most populous vertebrate species for the word capybara in that title: A day in the life of a human. Are you yawning? I am.<br /><br />About the same time I started blogging on MySpace, I fired up my own <a href="http://youtube.com/CaplinCapybara">YouTube channel</a>. As you can imagine, I was an immediate sensation. Well, not quite immediate. Since most people don't even know what a capybara is, it took a little while for them to warm up to me. My first video was of me licking the camera. I was adorable. I'd give you the link but you already have the link to the channel main page and you really ought to watch all of my videos not just the one or two I might happen to mention.<br /><br />After YouTube came FaceBook. Took me a little while to warm up to that one. Switching between MySpace and FaceBook paradigms is confusing to capy brains. It's like humans are trying to torture us. Eventually I figured out most of FaceBook and now I think it's kind of fun.<br /><br />Then, of course, there is this blog. Right now it's on BlogSpot but I'm hoping to move it to its own URL (www.GiantHamster.com).<br /><br />The last thing I've taken up is twitter. At first I hated it. The whole thing is humans posting little bits of non-information that no one cares about at all. And doing it real-time as if that's suddenly going to make it seem more important.<br /><br />All of these internet outlets are called "social media." Humans claim they are the most social species (I guess they don't count ants, bees, termites and other obviously more social species, not to mention lichens and corals that are obligate symbiotes). But even granting them that title (which I am NOT), there are plenty of other social animals out there. And now we are taking over the internet!<br /><br />I have to confess that I started the insurrection myself by building a guinea pig army on MySpace. Then I found General Napolean Buonaparte, a dog who is leader of L'Army des Animals on FaceBook. (Good job, Mon General!) And there are others, all working through the internet to transfer control of power from human to animal. (Ironically, the humans are always worrying about machines taking over. How silly is that?)<br /><br />Along with our quest for world domination, we are not adverse to doing good deeds, especially if those good deeds come in the form of a party. Twitter is "The Place" for animal parties. I've been to two so far, @BrewstieButt, an artistic cat, organized a #pawpawty for his birthday. That was crazy! I also attended the bash put on by @FrugalDougal, a dog. Each of these #pawpawtys was a party and a fund-raising event for an animal-related charity. (It's amazing the kind of cash we animals have access to. Kind-of explains the recession.)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdR3NGM-PP6rTyhuoIjSw-VzFZFrXk7c8Gv2SmV7153ytH5SByTv1SS9_jEPCju2TiFbAtD4UHU9r9y_WhnNzDoWEHk2ECWip-e23Q5N82aW97rCRuhViHfIiFI_ItAwm2QvzZAoh2So/s1600-h/PawPawty_01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdR3NGM-PP6rTyhuoIjSw-VzFZFrXk7c8Gv2SmV7153ytH5SByTv1SS9_jEPCju2TiFbAtD4UHU9r9y_WhnNzDoWEHk2ECWip-e23Q5N82aW97rCRuhViHfIiFI_ItAwm2QvzZAoh2So/s320/PawPawty_01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333983027094809490" border="0" /></a>The #pawpawty was fizzling out when these tweets took place.<br /></div><br />You should see the things we animals do when no humans are around! ZOMG, it's like we're all dogs or something. The transformation of the cats from aloof to bawdy is nothing short of shocking. I've even taken cats on spins around the pool. I can't say more or I might have to kill you--or at least bite you. You can read Brewskie's owner's blog about it <a href="http://bztat.blogspot.com/2009/05/pawpawty-animals-celebrate-around-world.html">here</a> if you are interested (and you should be, for your own safety if nothing else).<br /><a></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYqRNy4-k1VLhF2RT4_Ar8EP1146KO6CPhPzoRwpR7fZ6FI3Fx_idgDc-cL8JpQiLEFfOKfXPA3gStYqNZMYn5J_QxWHGfaxBrABx2ImwNEauuig5wB4tZDt__fon1bJhldKwfq5eDWs/s1600-h/2009_05_09_02_sCaplinComputer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYqRNy4-k1VLhF2RT4_Ar8EP1146KO6CPhPzoRwpR7fZ6FI3Fx_idgDc-cL8JpQiLEFfOKfXPA3gStYqNZMYn5J_QxWHGfaxBrABx2ImwNEauuig5wB4tZDt__fon1bJhldKwfq5eDWs/s320/2009_05_09_02_sCaplinComputer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333977344000567346" border="0" /></a>I can control my owner's thoughts from down here.<br /></div>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-41405751219160762202009-04-30T19:37:00.012-05:002009-04-30T23:37:02.557-05:00Capybara in the classroomSurvey Results:<br />Should animals have to earn their treats?<br />What are you complaining about?<br /><ol><li>She's not asking for anything that hard. (16 37%)</li><li>I thought animals celebrate Halloween every day. (2 4%)</li><li>If I could get my dog/cat/hamster to do that, you bet I would! (4 9%)</li><li>It's humiliating what she does to you. Come live with me. (10 23%)</li><li>You call that "earning?" When I was a pup/kitten/kid I had to balance a ball on my nose for a peanut! (11 25%)<br /></li></ol> 43 votes total (no multiples)<br />Well, my readers are not very sympathetic to my plight. I am very disappointed.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Statistics:<br />Starting view count: 1888<br />Followers: 45<br /></div><br />What a great day I had Monday! To start off, my owner stayed home for the day. I love it when she does 'cause we spend so much more time together. Then it was raining, which I love because of the mud potential. But the best part was that I got to go visit a school. I hadn't done that in a long time and I'd forgotten how fun it is.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ91PX8wD5jpO6g0O0rN8eNzMVQGigxWxiYUkLoZUZikRyAbaHzVGYpbh4Gevkq-31Jc6typHs8udFtwf5ZgL3OsnG6NGXAgfwpKSh5kZH6DEOS1X4yJio3CC4ZnopQ1M6nAEXEiPhKtM/s1600-h/2009_04_27_01_sCaplinSchool.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ91PX8wD5jpO6g0O0rN8eNzMVQGigxWxiYUkLoZUZikRyAbaHzVGYpbh4Gevkq-31Jc6typHs8udFtwf5ZgL3OsnG6NGXAgfwpKSh5kZH6DEOS1X4yJio3CC4ZnopQ1M6nAEXEiPhKtM/s320/2009_04_27_01_sCaplinSchool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330648979063020290" border="0" /></a>Walking up to the school in the rain.<br /></div><br />I went specifically to visit a fourth grade class where a student had done a science project on capybaras. What a lucky girl! It makes me wish I could really attend school instead of just visiting but I don't guess that's an option.<br /><br />Sheldon, my owner and I all checked in at the school office and met our student's mother and her friend. Her friend fed me an apple. I don't know why my owner doesn't do that. Well, maybe because I wouldn't eat it last time she gave me one. But you have to keep trying.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OZGb3Gtg3a7SyJ-fB0G83D_5B6pwYyV7JiVkUNiCZO4nR3lbgRpo_UPOwKKVcJKtEs8_1VrKxAwutKrCR78zWAGPGpT3q_qj2xPA_aNG9P-aBdVX4Ya9mrnhXjhspGJbkLV1EZgLdYk/s1600-h/2009_04_27_02_sCaplinSchool.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8OZGb3Gtg3a7SyJ-fB0G83D_5B6pwYyV7JiVkUNiCZO4nR3lbgRpo_UPOwKKVcJKtEs8_1VrKxAwutKrCR78zWAGPGpT3q_qj2xPA_aNG9P-aBdVX4Ya9mrnhXjhspGJbkLV1EZgLdYk/s320/2009_04_27_02_sCaplinSchool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330648883794102754" border="0" /></a>Eating an apple in the office.<br /></div><br />I made a big splash in the office. Naturally everyone loved me. Then we had to climb some stairs up to the classroom. I am surprisingly good at going up and down stairs. Once in the classroom, our student gave a short introduction to capybaras (good job, Skyler!). Then my owner did a question and answer session.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkst-3TnECG90EVShdEZ0r2S0R02bf3ZuCeFgcsvg_L8Z46vanoTIP3Mx462Edh2cz8uoYX_qjcEUJko-xuZGLt4Xqj8DArlgso75-7XcsBqGr01hyrqdLMa29uHmWmhgRqz7nwhVSb4/s1600-h/2009_04_27_03_sCaplinSchool.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 310px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkst-3TnECG90EVShdEZ0r2S0R02bf3ZuCeFgcsvg_L8Z46vanoTIP3Mx462Edh2cz8uoYX_qjcEUJko-xuZGLt4Xqj8DArlgso75-7XcsBqGr01hyrqdLMa29uHmWmhgRqz7nwhVSb4/s320/2009_04_27_03_sCaplinSchool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330648783687813234" border="0" /></a>My introduction.<br />Look how cute and good I am being.<br /></div><br />Here are some of her questions (answers at the bottom).<br /><ol><li> What are the major predators of capybaras?</li><li>Where do capybaras live in the wild?</li><li>What do capybaras eat?</li><li>What's special about capybara teeth?</li><li>What is the second largest rodent?<br /></li></ol><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8q6DDflihouBHvcnOiH5tCY3JjQISgrt54I21B2SVWOrV7Hfkh8zQfimG40OVuWjD7LGbhFUIpJ_afka7rcUN0ux18dbCiSu2DGLvY-GbmrkVvUwLei97fjgqRGN5omYHR8qqoaQt6FE/s1600-h/2009_04_27_04_sCaplinSchool.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 207px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8q6DDflihouBHvcnOiH5tCY3JjQISgrt54I21B2SVWOrV7Hfkh8zQfimG40OVuWjD7LGbhFUIpJ_afka7rcUN0ux18dbCiSu2DGLvY-GbmrkVvUwLei97fjgqRGN5omYHR8qqoaQt6FE/s320/2009_04_27_04_sCaplinSchool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330648689338870050" border="0" /></a>The kids loved answering the questions.<br /></div><br />The kids did great and I think they learned a lot. The thing they learned the most was that capbyaras are not just the largest rodent in the world, we are also the cutest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq96TuPCZF1Uo3mnjm4bENqRjvL0_VfCvxU6GEYfMtg6Y6-3CtbNjlOD-Tbr7NhJsYZhkttobV8HrMWhlDuL02AgIsGAFKpWuXSDq1wiF0pMJFvrDnCY19yz8LpwPA9QT1P4GHe7eTgUs/s1600-h/2009_04_27_05_sCaplinSchool.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq96TuPCZF1Uo3mnjm4bENqRjvL0_VfCvxU6GEYfMtg6Y6-3CtbNjlOD-Tbr7NhJsYZhkttobV8HrMWhlDuL02AgIsGAFKpWuXSDq1wiF0pMJFvrDnCY19yz8LpwPA9QT1P4GHe7eTgUs/s320/2009_04_27_05_sCaplinSchool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330648581286088402" border="0" /></a>When it was almost time to go, the original class filed out and a new one filed in. They didn't get much time with me so I felt sorry for them. Then on the way out, we stopped to visit with an eighth grade class. We were in the front of the school so other kids wandered by and I got mobbed a little bit. But I kept my cool. My owner gave a bunch of kids fresh blueberries so I just kept searching from hand to hand to find them. Some kids stuck out their hands when they didn't have blueberries and that seemed a bit dishonest but I guess I can't blame them.<br /><br />Here are the answers:<br /><ol><li> jaguars, anacondas, caiman, crocodiles, people</li><li>eastern South America</li><li>mainly grasses and water plants</li><li>like all rodents, capybaras have teeth that grow throughout their lives</li><li>beavers<br /></li></ol>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-74676086179233644842009-04-20T21:17:00.011-05:002009-04-20T21:44:40.668-05:00The slow slide to nowhereSurvey Results:<br />What do you think of Caplin Rous' TV appearances?<ol><li>Haven't seen any of them but sure he was great! (11 26%)</li><li>AP should have made the whole show about him! (28 68%)</li><li>Move over Enzo, make room for Caplin Rous! (2 4%)</li><li>TLC reality show! OMG that would be great! (8 19%)</li><li>Fame is going to your head, you need to cut back. (0 0%)<br /></li></ol> 41 votes total (multiple votes allowed)<br />It's nice to know none of you think I'm big headed. Come to think of it, I do have a pretty big head, especially the nose part of my head!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Statistics:<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">Starting view count: 877<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">Followers: 39<br /></div><br />A strange thing happened this week: my life was changed by a photograph.<br /><br />I have some capy friends in Houston to blame for this. Their owner posted some photos of them on his FaceBook page and my owner saw it and seized on it. It became an obsession with her. Below you see one of the original photos.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61X-0aqeyW8HSaXgQJJkBw5jO28OXDn4PbfkjwiB68DIvDD404QM0j_GSlcY1OGkqz9IxHBFE-35j6D-apMCUxCU1L308gCNu91TkEYgi8KoQxJDRwktKX2iTNwWiVsmOu8iBpzivzQU/s1600-h/JustinsCapysCube.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61X-0aqeyW8HSaXgQJJkBw5jO28OXDn4PbfkjwiB68DIvDD404QM0j_GSlcY1OGkqz9IxHBFE-35j6D-apMCUxCU1L308gCNu91TkEYgi8KoQxJDRwktKX2iTNwWiVsmOu8iBpzivzQU/s320/JustinsCapysCube.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326963960995239506" border="0" /></a>Houston capys playing on their toy.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />For the next two days all my owner could talk about was how she was going to get one of those contraptions for me! Really, I am way too dignified for that. Those Houston capys don't have any class. But my owner would hear none of it, even though I eeped rather loudly. She searched the interweb. She scoured local stores, even those she hates like Target and WalMart.<br /><br />When she didn't find what she wanted, I thought she would give up. But no, she settled--and therefore I settled--for less. She got me the dumb contraption you see me sitting on below.<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpG_qUq433vrQ3h2xY2VzH-h_I3G9gCEDSSZ1oBx2gZt1JLxCoZ-_AKTwbfZCf2SlammMq_L5AsDXYP_P6-WTjSYXOsx78Djr11FHbDs6HPSFUJNMxwukdS4o5Qikkz0WYYzjr7MqM94M/s1600-h/2009_04_19_02_sCaplinSlide.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpG_qUq433vrQ3h2xY2VzH-h_I3G9gCEDSSZ1oBx2gZt1JLxCoZ-_AKTwbfZCf2SlammMq_L5AsDXYP_P6-WTjSYXOsx78Djr11FHbDs6HPSFUJNMxwukdS4o5Qikkz0WYYzjr7MqM94M/s320/2009_04_19_02_sCaplinSlide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326963640989900834" border="0" /></a>I should have know this was going to go badly for me.<br /></div><br />It is supposed to be a castle but it did not make me feel like a king. The Houstonian version is large enough--barely--for three capys. I hardly fit on this one by myself. And it doesn't have the same cute colors or holes for climbing through. But that didn't stop my owner. Next thing I knew, a popsicle was dangling in front of my face. When I went to grab it with my teeth, it moved farther from me and closer to that castle. Eventually I was sitting on it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbj56pHYTikIBsNfqIhp_TY_-A8TtDE0Zk72wq0yAyA3HODTbvfu76PIEPSKLZIYB4Aa780ZxgO7-AdoHfhyq6KqVLAQjq7DZA56TUQL2AhOAMUCHsOj2GMv2iWSgDgImHZUb5QUxwqI/s1600-h/2009_04_19_03_sCaplinSlide.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbj56pHYTikIBsNfqIhp_TY_-A8TtDE0Zk72wq0yAyA3HODTbvfu76PIEPSKLZIYB4Aa780ZxgO7-AdoHfhyq6KqVLAQjq7DZA56TUQL2AhOAMUCHsOj2GMv2iWSgDgImHZUb5QUxwqI/s320/2009_04_19_03_sCaplinSlide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326963526376720610" border="0" /></a>Believe me, I am not as content as I look!<br /></div><br />Getting onto the platform was only worth 1/2 of a popsicle, if you can believe that. Amazingly, she expected me to willingly step onto that slippery blue slope and slide down! I resisted as long and as hard as I could but she still had that darned half of a popsicle and I wanted it!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAW4VePSlDcAceIRrSWoWAIaucnIVH1iZgQokKOiRg-I7krH2b-75tV9HsoiuWzC-fxeJNVjk3Jc-TKOtaTrIlABwsZTKaD3-6aObV20RqipsFQVlYFR-F9sg1Z2e9i8BZUYmaVTrP5k/s1600-h/2009_04_19_04_sCaplinSlide.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAW4VePSlDcAceIRrSWoWAIaucnIVH1iZgQokKOiRg-I7krH2b-75tV9HsoiuWzC-fxeJNVjk3Jc-TKOtaTrIlABwsZTKaD3-6aObV20RqipsFQVlYFR-F9sg1Z2e9i8BZUYmaVTrP5k/s320/2009_04_19_04_sCaplinSlide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326963438359866674" border="0" /></a>She's dangling a popsicle just off-camera!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZnH8Q5UhnDFG6qeQXBMywckfK-pmvlmcKiBVPO1v2gopdhMQoG9AF2CQIcFNPvrLIQBFejn8nU_sRbVIf5Vasmc6R9Sap7BSyPqC4lqoAFVc-nZw-dWbNaD8aPVSEPlL33dI8Bs6QYE/s1600-h/2009_04_19_05_sCaplinSlide.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZnH8Q5UhnDFG6qeQXBMywckfK-pmvlmcKiBVPO1v2gopdhMQoG9AF2CQIcFNPvrLIQBFejn8nU_sRbVIf5Vasmc6R9Sap7BSyPqC4lqoAFVc-nZw-dWbNaD8aPVSEPlL33dI8Bs6QYE/s320/2009_04_19_05_sCaplinSlide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326963317231305570" border="0" /></a>It looks so delicious!<br />Can't I just do a circle instead?<br /></div><br />I couldn't let that popsicle go. Eventually I put one paw out and that was the end of it. Down the slide I went.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj528GaMv6k11DkfHJlKnXteFsRSuJVuoPEvMp6a02Y2sjoZ-hNKH9LCnU8g6T5WeauFBVCwBiWyE-uPGrSkRPhbZo-N3Nu-BM3JMAY4VxQPFVwK5id8umO4oNbVKaoRRHXheGUA0y04rk/s1600-h/2009_04_19_07_sCaplinSlide.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj528GaMv6k11DkfHJlKnXteFsRSuJVuoPEvMp6a02Y2sjoZ-hNKH9LCnU8g6T5WeauFBVCwBiWyE-uPGrSkRPhbZo-N3Nu-BM3JMAY4VxQPFVwK5id8umO4oNbVKaoRRHXheGUA0y04rk/s320/2009_04_19_07_sCaplinSlide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326963208743643138" border="0" /></a>My owner gave me the other half of the popsicle when I got to the bottom and, I have to say, it was delicious. The problem now seems to be that I can't get a popsicle unless I climb up into the castle and slide down the other side. How do these things happen to me? Do I have a food addiction? Is my owner insane? What will she think up next?<br /><br />Here's a link to my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4uDOfhuBoM">YouTube video</a> video of my very first slide.<br /><br />And if you missed me on Animal Planet, we're into <a href="http://animal.discovery.com/tv-schedules/series.html?paid=15.803.126802.3796.1">reruns</a>.Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-19682755741739839202009-04-12T12:57:00.013-05:002009-04-14T08:51:38.053-05:00Fame and the CapybaraSurvey Results:<br />Would you read a book about capybaras?<ol><li>Anything! If it's got a capybara it must be good (12 54%).</li><li>Only if it features the real Caplin Rous and not some substitute. (7 31%)</li><li>I read Capyboppy. I don't need to read another book about capybaras. (0 0%)</li><li>Only if the book is edible. (3 13%)<br /></li></ol> 22 Votes Total<br />These are troubling results. I had hoped a larger fraction of my readers would be interested in my owner's book. She lost 31% of you by using Caplynn Rous rather than the real me. And I am not at all sure she can regain the 13% of you who insist that the book be edible.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vmlOQ4ivIDhRzaU0UTpyzreardBzpgo0vNd3_WXdZ3NwyLPJ7wwHmzvNInMS4B_USEPbhoGLXw4KjUYt5LtWy42jiIm_8dNakmT-q8WiNpjCxpflPSjgoE5tJx524bC9zmVAiy0Ek5Y/s1600-h/2009_01_13_02_sCaplinAnimalPlanet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vmlOQ4ivIDhRzaU0UTpyzreardBzpgo0vNd3_WXdZ3NwyLPJ7wwHmzvNInMS4B_USEPbhoGLXw4KjUYt5LtWy42jiIm_8dNakmT-q8WiNpjCxpflPSjgoE5tJx524bC9zmVAiy0Ek5Y/s320/2009_01_13_02_sCaplinAnimalPlanet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323867119273871234" border="0" /></a>Me and Neptune during the Animal Planet shoot<br /></div><br />Did y'all catch me on Animal Planet last night? I was the lead segment on the show Animal Planet's Most Outrageous Odd Looking Pets. I'll post a link to the video as soon as I can, for now hopefully you can just watch it over and over again on your DVR. I've watched it about 30 times already and I'm not tired of it yet.<br /><br />Can't say the same for the rest of the show though. Sure the long-haired Peruvian guinea pigs were cute, but not any cuter than my little Neptune who only made a cameo on my segment. They could have replaced those long-hairs with him. Then they could change the name of the show from odd looking to cutest.<br /><br />What's up with that anyway? Why did they throw me in with those odd-looking animals? I totally did not fit in. The next animal was Elwood, the ugliest dog. OMG! I do not belong on the same show with that animal. The featherless cockatoo, the super-muscled whippet and the gold-toothed cat were all diseased or had genetic deformities of some sort. The littlest dog looked like it was going to shake itself to death and the tallest dog can't reach the ground to eat out of its food bowl.<br /><br />How do I belong with those animals? I am the picture of health and grace. I can swim like an otter. I am fully furred (or as fully furred as any capybara). My teeth, while large, fit inside my mouth where they belong. I admit I am on the small side for a capybara, but not freakishly so. I feel sorry for those other animals, really I do, but that doesn't mean I want to be lumped in with them. I guess it's the price you pay for fame. Everyone has to pay their dues climbing the ladder to stardom.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkxqLzJo4G1BXnSHdvMyGasTwjtk2ZfD6pUDcF2VfKxkB_xFnOFhbyvEtgSSaDIUx72jYE4AKL11ekiXQ2x4nRPglJjKw9kkdMJMm2_2sJSanIYobTBqs4_fyVa-QGE8hSbj9MdxY2JE/s1600-h/2009_04_01_02_sCaplinJimSwift.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkxqLzJo4G1BXnSHdvMyGasTwjtk2ZfD6pUDcF2VfKxkB_xFnOFhbyvEtgSSaDIUx72jYE4AKL11ekiXQ2x4nRPglJjKw9kkdMJMm2_2sJSanIYobTBqs4_fyVa-QGE8hSbj9MdxY2JE/s320/2009_04_01_02_sCaplinJimSwift.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323866756191967314" border="0" /></a>Me with KXAN's Jim Swift, On the Porch<br /></div><br />Speaking of which, I suppose you have seen my appearance on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUjapxMVs6A">KXAN</a>? And this week I am also making a guest appearance on <a href="http://www.enzoology.com/">Enzoology</a>. Hook your kiddos up with Enzo, he's into science and capybaras and that makes him a cool kid in my book. We have a cute moment at the end of the video where Enzo thinks a popsicle is for him when it's really for me. Silly kid, popsicles are for capybaras.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLm56fXg_siWXWebpug0UOHlEdxvTf2kOcZmd2mEZ2V31cR8YkjscBiYg4lSZ1A39Purdh1i6howDHFNr3ly-lSnK3Je2cu_RbNdJFl0aVFj5DaSPztGbhShThyphenhyphenz3Tx1Y0DoVvuw5tH8/s1600-h/2009_04_04_01_sCaplinEnzo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLm56fXg_siWXWebpug0UOHlEdxvTf2kOcZmd2mEZ2V31cR8YkjscBiYg4lSZ1A39Purdh1i6howDHFNr3ly-lSnK3Je2cu_RbNdJFl0aVFj5DaSPztGbhShThyphenhyphenz3Tx1Y0DoVvuw5tH8/s320/2009_04_04_01_sCaplinEnzo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323865986249734226" border="0" /></a>I didn't want to make it too easy for Enzo and his parents.<br />They had to scramble to earn their video of me.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU3885BrECWHLDUibvc5WdmruGMWGd-znPF_WR6OQ3d9aq99dj7w5INYDw5uZG3fJOiHO0PVgIiIlPG6ZQJbLWaCnaktE6HboM3hxi8nI6DeUVPZuifrVUFqa9eKpK993kiojwNA3LjBI/s1600-h/2009_04_04_02_sCaplinEnzo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU3885BrECWHLDUibvc5WdmruGMWGd-znPF_WR6OQ3d9aq99dj7w5INYDw5uZG3fJOiHO0PVgIiIlPG6ZQJbLWaCnaktE6HboM3hxi8nI6DeUVPZuifrVUFqa9eKpK993kiojwNA3LjBI/s320/2009_04_04_02_sCaplinEnzo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323865883738844738" border="0" /></a>Here's me with Enzo.<br />Don't know why he wouldn't roll in the mud with me.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL-xuUdhyphenhyphenQHgCUS4KT8s4gAmWs8Yk614CkglCVEP4n-2CPtvKO9T0oEx6_BXudu2vfnjjAdduPp2WpW2tUDB-z79cww8tJxy_dylkiL7PLw_fVr2KlEKlicHQMowmE9B5-YWHf-kBMSM/s1600-h/2009_04_04_03_sCaplinEnzo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL-xuUdhyphenhyphenQHgCUS4KT8s4gAmWs8Yk614CkglCVEP4n-2CPtvKO9T0oEx6_BXudu2vfnjjAdduPp2WpW2tUDB-z79cww8tJxy_dylkiL7PLw_fVr2KlEKlicHQMowmE9B5-YWHf-kBMSM/s320/2009_04_04_03_sCaplinEnzo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323865772267075730" border="0" /></a>I may be cutest when I'm muddy.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51UI802WLtyT1VG9AcskeZgbYuYeLX0IOAWQAXbMElAFV_BUVsx0cFhBGPpoihSG75RXjrPNGn4EPb_jZR5ret5pYSq3kVLLlEL8EbcLe-A1RBNVB5zoKrTxg4RAAd05Pfhs8dVokAnY/s1600-h/2009_04_04_04_sCaplinEnzo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51UI802WLtyT1VG9AcskeZgbYuYeLX0IOAWQAXbMElAFV_BUVsx0cFhBGPpoihSG75RXjrPNGn4EPb_jZR5ret5pYSq3kVLLlEL8EbcLe-A1RBNVB5zoKrTxg4RAAd05Pfhs8dVokAnY/s320/2009_04_04_04_sCaplinEnzo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323865683583322050" border="0" /></a>I let Enzo pet me while I swam.<br /></div><br />Next on my voyage to stardom may be a stint on a reality show for The Learning Channel. Not sure about that yet. They say it is about people who are obsessed with their pets. Two things wrong with that. Firstly, it seems to put the emphasis on my owner instead of on me, where it belongs. Secondly, no level of devotion to a capybara could be considered obsessive. We deserve all the attention we get. And more.<br /><br />(By the way, I do NOT eat 10 lbs of guinea pig food a day. I have no idea where AP got that.)Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-45533353111564330902009-04-03T21:37:00.011-05:002009-04-03T22:03:35.373-05:00Bookworm RodentSurvey Results:<br />Are capybaras odd-looking?<br />1) No! The most magical-looking animals ever! (4 10%)<br />2) No! They are beautiful! (2 5%)<br />3) No! They are incredibly cute. (23 58%)<br />4) No! Those people at Animal Planet need to take that back! (2 5%)<br />5) No! Humans are the odd-looking ones. (8 20%)<br /><br />39 Votes Total<br />I suppose I should be happy with these results but I can't help noticing the low number of votes for option 2. Why is that?<br /><br />My owner is planning an "Caplin Rous on Animal Planet" party for me in Austin during the airing of my the Animal Planet episode with me in it. Drop a line to CaplinRous@gmail.com if you'd like to come.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYJDzsBMurtWNg0pnenN2NefwoZtIgMpGZl9RVNmAauqKQMCE4MYHWRXUXPAkO_pPTZgxC34_XCndH7QRINJEplFiIf-_H4l1JkPYqP0W7KY3iyypnDv3iIb6Af25ObbbXwmK0zfLfUo/s1600-h/2009_04_01_01_sCaplinJimSwift.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYJDzsBMurtWNg0pnenN2NefwoZtIgMpGZl9RVNmAauqKQMCE4MYHWRXUXPAkO_pPTZgxC34_XCndH7QRINJEplFiIf-_H4l1JkPYqP0W7KY3iyypnDv3iIb6Af25ObbbXwmK0zfLfUo/s320/2009_04_01_01_sCaplinJimSwift.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320663498749600322" border="0" /></a>Me with Jim Swift, literally "On the Porch"<br /></div><br />If you follow my blog you know that my owner drags me all over the place. I don't know why she does this since she's always complaining about how slow I am. In fact, capybaras strive to be the largest and SLOWEST rodents. Most of our relations are very fast so I think we probably own that title.<br /><br />Last Wednesday we had a very unusual outing. For one thing, it was the middle of the week and she didn't go to work. I suppose we both deserved an afternoon off after our shoot with Jim Swift from KXAN. (<span id="hsmStatus">http:<wbr>/<wbr>/<wbr>www.<wbr>kxan.<wbr>com/<wbr>dpp/<wbr>news/<wbr>local/<wbr>Exotic_<wbr>pet_<wbr>provides_<wbr>nature_lesson) Another strange thing was that we went north of the river.<br /><br />For those of you who don't live in Central Texas, you might not know that the city of Austin is divided in half by the Colorado River. (No, not THAT Colorado River. A lesser river by the same name.) My owner and I live way south of the river in an area sometimes known as Bubba-land and other times as Buda. Same difference. Being Bubbas, we seldom venture to the north were the more sophisticated populace resides.<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBGwrbGXkAVHjCUQngXJ6CMerjhN8mwcaLv4mVDVIpSxb2stLuGRdd1KlnqBrF2ON7kOztSWQGhu63K64uVzLaxtzLccXOcGGk0-C8vwaPzQe9MfAhxH9NHNmUPwBsZwYUoq9RhJbwAM/s1600-h/sEdibleBook_CountOfMonteCristo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBGwrbGXkAVHjCUQngXJ6CMerjhN8mwcaLv4mVDVIpSxb2stLuGRdd1KlnqBrF2ON7kOztSWQGhu63K64uVzLaxtzLccXOcGGk0-C8vwaPzQe9MfAhxH9NHNmUPwBsZwYUoq9RhJbwAM/s320/sEdibleBook_CountOfMonteCristo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320663305068682098" border="0" /></a><span id="hsmStatus">The Count of Monte Cristo. Submitted by D.J. Berson<br /><br /></span><span id="hsmStatus"></span></div><span id="hsmStatus">On this trip, we actually went to the campus of the University of Texas at Austin, a strange place for a little capybara. Did you know people actually walk there? Stranger than that is the event we went to, the Edible Book Festival. Can you imagine? Edible books? Actually not so weird; I eat paper when I can. I've never eaten a book but the only thing stopping me is opportunity.<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vZbXAS3t9CWkJMlLAcIBY5COMlFnUmh1sgqNWQGfKpTBSMvnllSGDBV7fjmO3N912MEHxmBO2P34dNWgoWTHLCoq3zOuZp0CzYDiSMPlhyVMexyFLBjopWHoTdhDlzEts4gWWWkVqnw/s1600-h/2009_04_01_02_sEdibleBooks_LoveInTheTimeOfCauliflower.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vZbXAS3t9CWkJMlLAcIBY5COMlFnUmh1sgqNWQGfKpTBSMvnllSGDBV7fjmO3N912MEHxmBO2P34dNWgoWTHLCoq3zOuZp0CzYDiSMPlhyVMexyFLBjopWHoTdhDlzEts4gWWWkVqnw/s320/2009_04_01_02_sEdibleBooks_LoveInTheTimeOfCauliflower.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320663216626174642" border="0" /></a><span id="hsmStatus">Love in the Time of Cauliflower. Submitted by Emily Vinson</span><br /><span id="hsmStatus"></span></div><span id="hsmStatus"><br />The festival proved smaller than we had imagined with only seven edible books. One of the people there told us that it is normally held on a weekend when participation is higher. Nevertheless, the entries were interesting and we met a bunch of nice folks. At the festival, everyone pet me and took my photo. I tried to pose as photogenically as possible but the crowd prevented taking best advantage of the light. The edible books were quite creative so my owner and Sheldon--who is always dragged along as a capybara wrangler--had a good time.<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYXMAxKhe99OW7Fexn12F_ZfiMWwkS-wqfMjGACz5HVHUycAoepsUev5ehLRnkHmjoCBw-sxmv1Zu3qxjDzbpqr_btAEprSyCktBdxcgfBnSdI7kA_AIJsMnzPxF0vyuYLb-PibNOyntI/s1600-h/2009_04_01_03_sEdibleBooks_OnTheRoad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYXMAxKhe99OW7Fexn12F_ZfiMWwkS-wqfMjGACz5HVHUycAoepsUev5ehLRnkHmjoCBw-sxmv1Zu3qxjDzbpqr_btAEprSyCktBdxcgfBnSdI7kA_AIJsMnzPxF0vyuYLb-PibNOyntI/s320/2009_04_01_03_sEdibleBooks_OnTheRoad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320663149772647970" border="0" /></a><span id="hsmStatus">On the Road. Submitted by Nicole Davis</span><br /><span id="hsmStatus"></span></div><span id="hsmStatus"><br />We could have been entry eight since someone commented that if you put Sheldon next to me you have the Steinbeck book "Of Mice and Men." Since capybaras are eaten in South America (shudder!), I fulfilled the edible requirement.<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNMr-6on2IqfAqz0_0EFpFwdC9FNTK2JRaBRj_nBZy6sENuRcav0D5SCujhl4-kkBTb2DJIhyU2sDYmA1tpaAWrht_zQggvPAUgIFpSU-Z6Q6LvX0XsphhgfPcS7h3flZsC47aqpUd34/s1600-h/CelesteNovelCover.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNMr-6on2IqfAqz0_0EFpFwdC9FNTK2JRaBRj_nBZy6sENuRcav0D5SCujhl4-kkBTb2DJIhyU2sDYmA1tpaAWrht_zQggvPAUgIFpSU-Z6Q6LvX0XsphhgfPcS7h3flZsC47aqpUd34/s320/CelesteNovelCover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320662929108555602" border="0" /></a><span id="hsmStatus">The cover of my owner's soon-to-be-available-on-Amazon book.</span><br /><span id="hsmStatus">It features a capybara named Caplynn Rous.</span><br /><span id="hsmStatus"></span></div><span id="hsmStatus"><br />My owner wants to make a real entry next year, hopefully of the book she (sort-of) wrote about me. I don't know how she'll convert that to something edible though. And I am NOT going to be part of the entry.</span>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-64920619161880996412009-03-25T22:25:00.014-05:002009-03-26T21:52:22.948-05:00Water 'BaraSurvey Results:<br />What do you think of pet clothes?<br />1) ZOMG! What are you thinking? Never! (6 14%)<br />2) I can see Halloween but nothing else. (1 2%)<br />3) Once in a whil is okay, as long as no one gets hurt. (29 69%)<br />4) I don't see why pets shouldn't have to wear clothes if people do. (5 11%)<br />5) Good point. I'm a nudist and so are my animals. (1 2%)<br /><br />42 Votes Total<br />( I have reason to believe that the so-called nudist was lying.)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOVUAiUwv1KSZfJUVDBjXWAH-td27zRZT7j0J_ApcVRkWEVZjjKN9kzkxexW8ole6B9-IybXfYPqiAg9iAyiQ406HVzbsKoZAcAAXvW98Uez5lsWnQwJ7-xAxMppGYsDVuOzVoI9ndtM/s1600-h/2008_08_31_03_sCaplinPool.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOVUAiUwv1KSZfJUVDBjXWAH-td27zRZT7j0J_ApcVRkWEVZjjKN9kzkxexW8ole6B9-IybXfYPqiAg9iAyiQ406HVzbsKoZAcAAXvW98Uez5lsWnQwJ7-xAxMppGYsDVuOzVoI9ndtM/s320/2008_08_31_03_sCaplinPool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317333108088483922" border="0" /></a>Me in the clean water of the pool.<br />I love floating in an innertube before I bite a hole in it.<br /></div><br />If you know me or any of my kind, then you'll know capybaras love the water. What you might not know is that we like our water thick, the thicker the better. Sure, I'll swim in clean water when I have to, but mud is what I really want. Lately it's been hard to come by.<br /><br />I remember way back when I was a baby that there used to be mud everywhere. Water actually fell from the sky. It formed little pools called puddles on the ground. I made my own mud by just rolling in those puddles and using my body to mix the water with the dirt. But then the sky dried up and so did the puddles. The last ones to go were at the bottom of the little creek that runs across our property. One day I ran out there with my owner in tow, all excited about playing in the mud and it was gone! That was the last I saw of it except a few feeble puddles my owner made for me last summer.<br /><br />But something good happened last week. It got really cold and windy and water fell from the sky again! I didn't know what to think. It had been so long that when my owner let me out to graze, I just stood there in shock. It wasn't until the next day that I realized what had happened. Sadly, the "rain" quickly dried up and I only got to play in the mud a little before it was gone. In fact, I only tracked it into the house one time. What a waste. I'm going to work on that.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzIQ2f7LEQvvH17VEqvjekLYBnLNwOguQqzvRKuzwgXABcd2RnACN5snfLl0AxgjUrScPoYHiq_SlG6PjQM7x0xhcLJL0VR0QCB-EIkk65J-iJarG-OiHpL6jYfpaynhwkCdrWGoOxoU/s1600-h/2009_03_22_08_sCaplinMud.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzIQ2f7LEQvvH17VEqvjekLYBnLNwOguQqzvRKuzwgXABcd2RnACN5snfLl0AxgjUrScPoYHiq_SlG6PjQM7x0xhcLJL0VR0QCB-EIkk65J-iJarG-OiHpL6jYfpaynhwkCdrWGoOxoU/s320/2009_03_22_08_sCaplinMud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317332862409613906" border="0" /></a>Getting ready to make me some MUD!<br /><br /></div>Then last weekend my owner and Sheldon and Coral and Carl all took me out to the creek. You can imagine my surprise when I saw puddles at the bottom! I had actually forgotten all about how the creek bed stores water like a swimming pool. In this case a swimming pool with a leaky bottom made out of mud, otherwise known as capybara heaven. Let me tell you, I made some fantastic mud. I smeared it all over my body. I dug my toes into it. I rubbed it on my face. It felt great. What a delightful future I envisioned for myself with those puddles.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEkmu0yWQB0pTvtYzCocRTBVb9fj-Q55hjQUE3p2X1D1AcDTaCwzOKsLJxWl3vyDy88A-XU27sbaKDv-Ld8wIi9t93jN7jG7EhFoaoq6fCmSROQeokKknplY4_L47pgYl5A9exRxUwls/s1600-h/2009_03_22_09_sCaplinMud.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEkmu0yWQB0pTvtYzCocRTBVb9fj-Q55hjQUE3p2X1D1AcDTaCwzOKsLJxWl3vyDy88A-XU27sbaKDv-Ld8wIi9t93jN7jG7EhFoaoq6fCmSROQeokKknplY4_L47pgYl5A9exRxUwls/s320/2009_03_22_09_sCaplinMud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317332758633792802" border="0" /></a>I have found the thing I am best at.<br /></div><br />When my owner took me back the next day, I was stunned. The puddle had lost over half its volume. Nooooo! I tried not to think about it as I played but it was hard. The next day the puddle was gone. The life of a capybara is so hard.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hj31dV1_jwSxHHayBVRG7n3qG9BbGi-3snQdPSyRrHR2nf5t7EU6L6SSsm5HOMAeTIGkRUr80TRfrd8_-NXbvq_VjHMK25q10GmyWer8J8liCgw3YEb9MeJ4mMFGM_IdvXXB5RIwfxE/s1600-h/2009_03_22_10_sCaplinMud.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hj31dV1_jwSxHHayBVRG7n3qG9BbGi-3snQdPSyRrHR2nf5t7EU6L6SSsm5HOMAeTIGkRUr80TRfrd8_-NXbvq_VjHMK25q10GmyWer8J8liCgw3YEb9MeJ4mMFGM_IdvXXB5RIwfxE/s320/2009_03_22_10_sCaplinMud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317332675251866466" border="0" /></a>Capybaras are semi-aquatic because mud is semi-aquatic.<br /></div><br />And then it rained again! Now that took me by surprise. Does this rain thing happen very often? Why don't I remember it from last year? Is it going to happen again soon? My puddles are back but they're pretty small. I'd feel better if I knew the would be replenished. My owner watches this thing called "The Weather" on TV. I think I might start watching it too.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtkSfsSu-mtB1yObL2rv7UwGwYMd6OqbdiUFdY-X0PF0qxZoqgjAqUgGSciRRUX5i85aSOJ47b5I55PJDB_Zfc8ly2leM-_02FwdPuc761xcB6XzqPADI8Y5Q8wvhF6RE-KBNBqIOTiI/s1600-h/2009_03_22_11_sCaplinMud.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtkSfsSu-mtB1yObL2rv7UwGwYMd6OqbdiUFdY-X0PF0qxZoqgjAqUgGSciRRUX5i85aSOJ47b5I55PJDB_Zfc8ly2leM-_02FwdPuc761xcB6XzqPADI8Y5Q8wvhF6RE-KBNBqIOTiI/s320/2009_03_22_11_sCaplinMud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317332589508209474" border="0" /></a>Shaking off a bit of excess water.<br /></div>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-43097861827659610692009-03-18T20:25:00.013-05:002009-03-26T21:54:16.460-05:00Costume Clotheshorse<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Survey Results:<br />What pets do you have?<br />1) I'm the luckiest person alive! I have a pet capybara! 0 (0%)<br />2) I'm pretty lucky! I have guinea pigs. (6 20%)<br />3) I'm a bit lucky. I have pet rodents. (4 13%)<br />4) I have only cats and/or dogs. 13 (44%)<br />5) I have livestock. Do they count? 3 (10%)<br />6) I have a non-rodent exotic pet. 6 (20%)<br /><br />29 Votes Total (Multiple choices allowed)<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNBK3DNO7v2rFjP7juwBNmizgxoAqhgor7M-fW3ak-H2fvDyBM4xWoOtJF2mlHa39oVNwjsaekTVXVu-fGq2J3sUnkzgDgzpDTBF7Wk6-USWSMZSDPVtFg7UFwshC0FGTo1eQFnmUfr0/s1600-h/StPatricksDay.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNBK3DNO7v2rFjP7juwBNmizgxoAqhgor7M-fW3ak-H2fvDyBM4xWoOtJF2mlHa39oVNwjsaekTVXVu-fGq2J3sUnkzgDgzpDTBF7Wk6-USWSMZSDPVtFg7UFwshC0FGTo1eQFnmUfr0/s320/StPatricksDay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314705680434767778" border="0" /></a>St. Patrick's Day 2008<br /></div><br /></div>I dread holidays. All of them. Well, not the religious ones because my owner doesn't celebrate those, but all of the non-denominational holidays that should just be fun, those are the ones I hate.<br /><br />This week we celebrated St. Patrick's Day, an observation of all things Irish. What's that got to do with me, you might wonder. Obviously, capybaras are not Irish; we are from South America. My owner isn't Irish either, she's half Greek by way of Panama and the other half is some German-English mix. But the actual Irish, and those of Irish descent, make this ridiculous claim that everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day, and according to my owner, that everyone extends to me.<br /><br />Look at the photo of me at the top of this blog. Do you see that? I'm dressed up like a leprechaun with orange hair, a big green hat and a shamrock on my back. That was last year. Below you can see what indignation I had to suffer this year. Tiny green men sitting on me. They weren't really there but still, the photo is humiliating.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kNfhwL8d2lEnLDaSrOZ2bqNQZ_6WhxTcj4i_HRGPh3KzP8_GrT7LwGov_gpOzHxr2hmaXQ8W7S-E88iv_YuPbWpWHGjY9PIP1zLUytLA2J-uDvNIzaK89x5N3x7wGAmmgBGhSZvMJRA/s1600-h/2009_03_14_01_sCaplinStPatsDay.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kNfhwL8d2lEnLDaSrOZ2bqNQZ_6WhxTcj4i_HRGPh3KzP8_GrT7LwGov_gpOzHxr2hmaXQ8W7S-E88iv_YuPbWpWHGjY9PIP1zLUytLA2J-uDvNIzaK89x5N3x7wGAmmgBGhSZvMJRA/s320/2009_03_14_01_sCaplinStPatsDay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314705557535513474" border="0" /></a>St. Patrick's Day 2009<br /><br /></div>This fiasco started when I was a baby 'bara. I remember the first time my owner dressed me up. I wasn't three months old. When Halloween came around she took me to the pet store and tried a variety of dog costumes on me--dog costumes!--finally settling on Pocahontas even though she suspected I was a boy.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDQmUOoklrVFS-ncvmP-kyAmWsJh53doGNxEO9Ee12YsLV-dmXjD5cG96AkV__jXEgMyD2tzO06YXteDIvkhg209fMPlPFadhpxnBdBStBDb0-N5y-mmhMJ1_c7v_6hXe2YkA6mMILwU/s1600-h/2007_10_27_06_sCaplinContest.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDQmUOoklrVFS-ncvmP-kyAmWsJh53doGNxEO9Ee12YsLV-dmXjD5cG96AkV__jXEgMyD2tzO06YXteDIvkhg209fMPlPFadhpxnBdBStBDb0-N5y-mmhMJ1_c7v_6hXe2YkA6mMILwU/s320/2007_10_27_06_sCaplinContest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314705444604805762" border="0" /></a>Me as Pocahontas, Halloween 2007<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJEWdoCby30yUgjSBXSulPkrzHUXbAR5C8th4K9mIshhXqr3W7mBM5IAEjj-z2zulyL5fccBM9ZVHrEs6cK7-n-Km-nFxyKCf9PuOCT2vZPI8MCVhsVsMy4s2SDE63CbuExdB1WWpFhw/s1600-h/2008_10_23_sCaplinCostume.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJEWdoCby30yUgjSBXSulPkrzHUXbAR5C8th4K9mIshhXqr3W7mBM5IAEjj-z2zulyL5fccBM9ZVHrEs6cK7-n-Km-nFxyKCf9PuOCT2vZPI8MCVhsVsMy4s2SDE63CbuExdB1WWpFhw/s320/2008_10_23_sCaplinCostume.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314705251255393346" border="0" /></a>Halloween 2008 she dressed me up as one of the horses.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">At New Year's 2008 and 2009 she made me look like a drunken lush.<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtf6qW2Ciw7cQJpMf3tIL2h6P-nsH6A3V5cxHX8ZFHdldmgg_hugibj2q77VJfEoujc61h7uUjeDQI5sNGLuMgzPqYFC01P-hRZEPxMluOyWshvdVA9yowZw-sKyMvqfz31Jf-pd9zN_o/s1600-h/Caplin_2008_NewYear_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtf6qW2Ciw7cQJpMf3tIL2h6P-nsH6A3V5cxHX8ZFHdldmgg_hugibj2q77VJfEoujc61h7uUjeDQI5sNGLuMgzPqYFC01P-hRZEPxMluOyWshvdVA9yowZw-sKyMvqfz31Jf-pd9zN_o/s320/Caplin_2008_NewYear_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314704861556571122" border="0" /></a>New Year's Eve 2007->2008<br />Do I look like the kind of capybara who would drink to excess?<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5dK8l4WKvZ0Gh8IKcDJejiDd5-q0ClXdR93BcM8tilHvl7_q5ee_97rQydt4Vej8lBt_6ZzKsjD45cn6zl7cj7qJAK7wrrW1TXRyb9oxEbAk4ZfFHrUFOTxQPNbqSscQfcmDz8WBNwk/s1600-h/2008_12_29_CaplinNewYear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn5dK8l4WKvZ0Gh8IKcDJejiDd5-q0ClXdR93BcM8tilHvl7_q5ee_97rQydt4Vej8lBt_6ZzKsjD45cn6zl7cj7qJAK7wrrW1TXRyb9oxEbAk4ZfFHrUFOTxQPNbqSscQfcmDz8WBNwk/s320/2008_12_29_CaplinNewYear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314704603109688018" border="0" /></a>New Year's Eve 2008->2009<br />I guess this has a good message but why make it look like I would do that?<br /><br /></div>For Cinco de Mayo I wore a mustache.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikx5IgiBdGh-SnrMo8LGn112aYlYvsycGpHXIUERJzeioVKR2HA6PSY5nyGKf3jxkNM25MmLvMrv5svaqd249FNBqNqq-9JXSkzemtrazc4Z2mqjhx6padV7yIt9IXJDgvasS7rrU48bk/s1600-h/2008_05_03_04_sCaplinMustache.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikx5IgiBdGh-SnrMo8LGn112aYlYvsycGpHXIUERJzeioVKR2HA6PSY5nyGKf3jxkNM25MmLvMrv5svaqd249FNBqNqq-9JXSkzemtrazc4Z2mqjhx6padV7yIt9IXJDgvasS7rrU48bk/s320/2008_05_03_04_sCaplinMustache.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314704463012116914" border="0" /></a>May 5, 2008<br />I don't think capybaras can even grow a mustache.<br /><br /></div>And for July fourth a tiara.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkzePttYCmygRaevRHZSRaXuRNnITHhZZCSYa_MCqiQg8cZOl-_O08KNFFw_0U6sxh923qkdhH6X2tpA14SgotTCTOv-N9xRL8F0QPxquuzCmxqrG7bBTgKo5eE_nzfrtQ37aexqfpjM/s1600-h/2008_sCaplin_ForthOfJuly.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkzePttYCmygRaevRHZSRaXuRNnITHhZZCSYa_MCqiQg8cZOl-_O08KNFFw_0U6sxh923qkdhH6X2tpA14SgotTCTOv-N9xRL8F0QPxquuzCmxqrG7bBTgKo5eE_nzfrtQ37aexqfpjM/s320/2008_sCaplin_ForthOfJuly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314704285653894258" border="0" /></a>July 4th, 2008<br /><br /></div>We capybaras are dignified animals. We don't need this kind of decoration to make us beautiful or interesting or to get attention. I can tell you, I get plenty of attention as it is. Why does she do this to me?<br /><br />Looking on the bright side, I only have to wear the stupid costumes for a few minutes and it's not a holiday every day. So I'm not as bad off as some of those dogs with their cute little sweaters and booties. I think I'd have to bite her if she tried that.Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-89507193008784454002009-03-09T20:52:00.010-05:002009-03-10T08:24:52.131-05:00Caplin Rous & Neptune: BFFsSurvey results:<br />Have you ever met a capybara?<br />1) Yes! I've met Caplin Rous. (4, 11%)<br />2) Yes! I've met another pet capybara. (2, 5%)<br />3) Sort of. I saw capybaras at the zoo. (13, 38%)<br />4) No. My life is so incomplete. (15, 44%)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhopsxE_JcqNVrOX1P-I-Rd_8W7j4iDyIuSb8N2k_k3gAEUOMEBMwDjAdUYB6_CBmNVHmu14vO3VtY1x8VfrjVqVUdop4ghRPn_C1Dl1zHAADcCWeYBIXuEMb2uecUex5fFt4uuyUDGDY/s1600-h/2009_03_08_02_sCaplinNeptune.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhopsxE_JcqNVrOX1P-I-Rd_8W7j4iDyIuSb8N2k_k3gAEUOMEBMwDjAdUYB6_CBmNVHmu14vO3VtY1x8VfrjVqVUdop4ghRPn_C1Dl1zHAADcCWeYBIXuEMb2uecUex5fFt4uuyUDGDY/s320/2009_03_08_02_sCaplinNeptune.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311376306738750754" border="0" /></a><br />It has taken some time for me to get over the loss of my friend Seabiscuit (aka The Rabbit (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaR3J8J01lo">Caplin & The Rabbit</a>). I still miss our long talks under the dining room table. Luckily Coral and Carl bought a cute little guinea pig named Neptune to help ease the pain.<br /><br />Neptune isn't like The Rabbit because he can't run around on the floor with me. The Rabbit weighed about four pounds but Neptune probably doesn't even tip the scale at one pound. He's a tiny thing. Coral and Carl are scared I will step on him. My owner is too. Neptune isn't. He trusts me to be careful.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">That is a mistake on his part. I can't tell you how many times I've jumped on the bed or the couch only to hear my owner scream out in pain. I don't mean to hurt her but these paws weren't made for walking on humans. I'm pretty sure they weren't made for walking on guinea pigs either but that's more open for debate, after all, wild guinea pigs and capybaras probably co-existed in the wild. I say probably because guinea pigs have been domesticated for a long, long time and no one knows for sure what wild rodent they descend from.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWyN-oWsGLt3Wpa3pYt5aYgUQautgihtHs7DCFm7L2WJ07uuQ9d1kVX5oUraK4k3kOF4Z8v4Uji2Gc31sQhqa9qDFhDr8uiGJOEG3RhgL1PqGJd7M1Uqkr3vyNrurivEeHCZ7XM4KvXc/s1600-h/2009_03_08_01_sCaplinNeptune.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWyN-oWsGLt3Wpa3pYt5aYgUQautgihtHs7DCFm7L2WJ07uuQ9d1kVX5oUraK4k3kOF4Z8v4Uji2Gc31sQhqa9qDFhDr8uiGJOEG3RhgL1PqGJd7M1Uqkr3vyNrurivEeHCZ7XM4KvXc/s320/2009_03_08_01_sCaplinNeptune.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311375060104649490" border="0" /></a>Is that anything good for me to eat?<br />Lettuce? You've got to be kidding.<br /></div><br />One nice thing about Neptune is that he and I speak the same language. His sounds are called wheeks and mine are called eeps but, you know, it's just a case of tomato-tomato (pronounce those differently to get the desired effect). Surprisingly, his wheeks are lower pitched than my eeps with the same meaning. I would have thought that being so much larger, I would have the deeper voice. Maybe my high-pitched eeps carry better underwater.<br /><br />I do make my noises underwater. Like guinea pigs, I make my incredible array of sounds without opening my mouth. I think they come from my heart! I don't think anyone has ever recorded the underwater calls of a capybara. That would be an interesting research project for an advanced student in capybara biology.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Neptune is a smart little guy. He has learned the circle trick only he calls it "turn-around." He can also beg, but I don't think he really had to learn how to do that. Those are his only tricks. It's hard to imagine him learning to shake or wave like I do because his front legs are so stubby I'm not sure he can stick them out from under him. He could learn tapa-tapa, where I tap my owner's leg with my paw, but I don't think Coral and Carl have worked on that yet.<br /><br />If you want to see videos of me and Neptune, check out:<br />(<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FAVcgsBcqY8">Caplin Rous in Three Rodents</a>)<br />and<br />(<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zimYh8oqfOM">Caplin Rous & Neptune: BFFs</a>)<br /><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMSNjklmeFs_zdjHvfuSPqku6dnBde_5kiLxam-TvWZfNokiXnDrcEObom6zyiu9WFa4DkN3V-Ll4XtK5jsMJAymDmxECZigbqdnS8GF3rGh4-4oG3ONuc5aPyOE8CXTUTGH6BaplvX3A/s1600-h/2009_03_08_03_sCaplinNeptune.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMSNjklmeFs_zdjHvfuSPqku6dnBde_5kiLxam-TvWZfNokiXnDrcEObom6zyiu9WFa4DkN3V-Ll4XtK5jsMJAymDmxECZigbqdnS8GF3rGh4-4oG3ONuc5aPyOE8CXTUTGH6BaplvX3A/s320/2009_03_08_03_sCaplinNeptune.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311376500410426930" border="0" /></a>Me and Neptune, chillaxin'<br /></div>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-88411332163871122652009-02-28T12:55:00.001-06:002009-02-28T13:32:09.773-06:00Meet the Parents<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-hD9PC9hX-LvbmRmrdnshtOPxJpumz5QlSILLS43jslS5RWoc_fKgi4EiArFqD2GfZrFQh7XpEaZjYf3glqgAr5jqzTsaNM_vun3ptvyd6TDM7dcVul9xZxF-mMfNG-A5ElUQ97vWI4/s1600-h/2009_02_27_01_sCaplinCoralCarlCar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-hD9PC9hX-LvbmRmrdnshtOPxJpumz5QlSILLS43jslS5RWoc_fKgi4EiArFqD2GfZrFQh7XpEaZjYf3glqgAr5jqzTsaNM_vun3ptvyd6TDM7dcVul9xZxF-mMfNG-A5ElUQ97vWI4/s320/2009_02_27_01_sCaplinCoralCarlCar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307925435202724322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Coral, Carl and me on the road to Nacogdoches.</span><br /><br /><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">Before I start today’s blog, I have to admit that I did something bad. I knocked over the trash can in my owner’s office and ate half a sheet of paper. In a way this wasn’t really so bad because the paper was trash after all. I don’t know why my owner made such a big deal about it. She said I needed to warn my readers that if they get a capybara, they have to protect their trash. That doesn’t even make sense. And it’s not like I’m going through it looking for her financial records or anything. I was just hungry.</p><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">Now for the main story.</p><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">I know humans are obsessed with genealogy. Everyone wants to know all about their ancestors and how their heritage, genetic and cultural, influences their lives. I didn’t feel this way at all. I am more of a nurture rather than nature proponent in the whole nature-vs-nurture argument. Plus, my ancestors are all capybaras. That’s okay, I mean it’s only natural, but I’m soooo different from that. I am hardly a capybara at all. I consider myself a fusion between capybaras and humans, taking only the best of both species. I know what you’re thinking, that still makes me mostly capybara. But even a little human influence has a dramatic effect.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">But on Thursday my whole family and I hopped in the car and went to visit the farm where I was born. My parents, Bonnie and <st1:place>Clyde</st1:place>, had a new litter of capy-kittens and everyone wanted to see if my baby siblings were as cute as I am. My parents and their owners live in a town called <st1:place><st1:city>Nacogdoches</st1:city>, <st1:state>Texas</st1:state></st1:place>. It’s a fair distance from Buda, off in the piney woods in <st1:place>East Texas</st1:place>, not far from the <st1:state><st1:place>Louisiana</st1:place></st1:state> border, so it’s not a trip we can make very often.</p><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjM65LkcgnMPpMWznmBNlwjMrSfAlAHHN2CereaZoSox5JsvXGmL9wWA-i6JSRqMSGfWq1CaBgRl6vlxxGbbBHJoEyuQm7KoP1AyOFHrtGz4M0S9F3AUVxHGV0DVFa_Hgn4kAkQL6-IA/s1600-h/2009_02_27_02_sCaplinCarlCar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjM65LkcgnMPpMWznmBNlwjMrSfAlAHHN2CereaZoSox5JsvXGmL9wWA-i6JSRqMSGfWq1CaBgRl6vlxxGbbBHJoEyuQm7KoP1AyOFHrtGz4M0S9F3AUVxHGV0DVFa_Hgn4kAkQL6-IA/s320/2009_02_27_02_sCaplinCarlCar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307925175621202258" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Most of the time the seat was down but sometimes I sat in the back and Carl put the seat up for a while.</span><br /><br /><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> </p><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">The weather was beautiful with a high of nearly 90 degrees and blue skies. We took Hwy 21 up, which travels through mostly country and small towns. Our first stop was in Dime Box, <st1:state><st1:place>Texas</st1:place></st1:state>, about 1.5 hours from home. We wanted to go to the little museum but it was closed. I took my humans--in this case my owner, Coral and Carl, and Sheldon--for a walk around town. It’s pretty small so we saw nearly the whole place. We talked to some nice women who lived there and I let one of them pet me. She called the museum curator who came right over and opened the museum for us.</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTFklK9asH-XNkkVM5Dsr47Acmct2Iuyzk0Fl0O9pzlv04sOsEHH3pFw4GS_zAQzLxVHROqG8xajxvaRGaQ-Mj6mVn8tIMJAJBP4QUzr36IEommjfglb2nmpc9bQb0yGHoVAe_a9S6HY/s1600-h/2009_02_27_05_sCaplinSheldonCoralCarlDimeBox.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTFklK9asH-XNkkVM5Dsr47Acmct2Iuyzk0Fl0O9pzlv04sOsEHH3pFw4GS_zAQzLxVHROqG8xajxvaRGaQ-Mj6mVn8tIMJAJBP4QUzr36IEommjfglb2nmpc9bQb0yGHoVAe_a9S6HY/s320/2009_02_27_05_sCaplinSheldonCoralCarlDimeBox.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307925076259387218" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Me, Sheldon, Coral and Carl at the Dime Box water tower.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">Or so I thought. Actually, she said, “Tie your dog up outside.” Humpfh! Firstly, I am not a dog. Secondly, I cannot be tied up since I can get out of my harness whenever I please. Believe me, if my humans leave me alone, I’m going to want out of that thing! The curator soon realized her mistake but didn’t seem as impressed with me as she should have been. She still wouldn’t let me in the museum. So my humans had to take turns.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the meantime, I wandered off, dragging Carl along with me, to a field across the street. There was a drainage ditch with a little water in it that looked especially inviting. Only Carl wouldn’t let me get in. So I charged him! (Oh, don’t look so shocked. What did you expect me to do?) He managed to fend off my attacks until my owner came out by wrapping my leash around a tree. Then she let me go in the drainage ditch and everything was fine.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFbPoBXNXm2M48eRL34bPjxZz80GzDEqtCUQl8CdnylYPHY7rrh6NoKBuz5t13lxPSQOUI_2fsfp6bvJDIZdoHLVgNQzTbSGg9tkxtr3CuFMTfjUCEasp8_zQPNtoVj49-K4bMamlU4s/s1600-h/2009_02_27_04_sCaplinDimeBox.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFbPoBXNXm2M48eRL34bPjxZz80GzDEqtCUQl8CdnylYPHY7rrh6NoKBuz5t13lxPSQOUI_2fsfp6bvJDIZdoHLVgNQzTbSGg9tkxtr3CuFMTfjUCEasp8_zQPNtoVj49-K4bMamlU4s/s320/2009_02_27_04_sCaplinDimeBox.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307924875588626034" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">This is the drainage ditch. You can see why I wanted to get in it.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">Our next stop was for lunch at Schlotzsky’s in <st1:city><st1:place>College Station</st1:place></st1:city>, right across the street from the Texas A&M campus. Coral and Carl both went to UT Austin so I think they were a little nervous. My humans all had sandwiches and I had some yogurt. Quite a few people came up to pet me, which made me feel loved.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then it was straight through to Star Farms and my family. As I’ve said, my parents are named Bonnie and <st1:place>Clyde</st1:place>. Their owners are Rick and Abby West and they live at a place called Star Farms. You may not know it, but my parents and their humans are carnies. They have a traveling show in which my parents are billed as “Giant Rats.” I’m pretty proud of my carnie heritage. I’m a show-stopper myself so I think I'd be a natural in the family business.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-lTsGZ8K3aIgsgzdpXMpwTDPngtwA1WnQD078kKdYIsWK63dlIGC3-KtzpyMGkvGLwAF-LQ7-3T5UMZO4W6XJ1QpX0WWtE8co15T8G_5U0mayJ_Vbxw99V71ofnUZhGqwdRc05cpL3Y/s1600-h/2009_02_26_RWRatShow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-lTsGZ8K3aIgsgzdpXMpwTDPngtwA1WnQD078kKdYIsWK63dlIGC3-KtzpyMGkvGLwAF-LQ7-3T5UMZO4W6XJ1QpX0WWtE8co15T8G_5U0mayJ_Vbxw99V71ofnUZhGqwdRc05cpL3Y/s320/2009_02_26_RWRatShow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307932209157686914" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">The carnival setup for Bonnie and Clyde.<br />Not sure I approve of the giant rat trap.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I spent some time reminiscing with Rick and Abby, only I don’t remember much since I left Star Farms when I was only eleven days old. In fact, I didn’t recognize my own parents! They aren’t friendly like I am. They can’t walk on a leash or anything. Rick said he has to move each of them into a crate and then use a fork lift to get them onto their trailer when they head out on the circuit. You can see how little I have in common with them. When my owner wants to take me someplace, she puts on my leash, walks me out to the car and I jump in by myself.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcPp6R_qNiTY3M7g2vAELzzLWDfmxcOaAO2-n7T4NLAgP_Tkqyv2mYCNDEYcofHnz_EX1BOpwATEgTP0VOGNIPBGRY0dcVx2g12b7iQOtpbrR9IQB6OFqWtr2maVro2mlKCnUzxZGliQ/s1600-h/2009_02_27_07_sCaplinAbbyNd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvcPp6R_qNiTY3M7g2vAELzzLWDfmxcOaAO2-n7T4NLAgP_Tkqyv2mYCNDEYcofHnz_EX1BOpwATEgTP0VOGNIPBGRY0dcVx2g12b7iQOtpbrR9IQB6OFqWtr2maVro2mlKCnUzxZGliQ/s320/2009_02_27_07_sCaplinAbbyNd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307924694474044850" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Me with Abby West. I liked her.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWZrYgrn4NLz5xaEemZFVKKKT8zvyaa1Wx1yd7yczK4g9TfLf0RFEdSoaJ-Or5ilUj0tFhtGaPSUHvcnjDGWGl1uoiDwFLLTaoWJEEbZv6JJ4-Bbvc9uXhcpXv4CzZdyv1CWjJdbMi4g/s1600-h/2009_02_27_10_sRickWestBonnieClydeNd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWZrYgrn4NLz5xaEemZFVKKKT8zvyaa1Wx1yd7yczK4g9TfLf0RFEdSoaJ-Or5ilUj0tFhtGaPSUHvcnjDGWGl1uoiDwFLLTaoWJEEbZv6JJ4-Bbvc9uXhcpXv4CzZdyv1CWjJdbMi4g/s320/2009_02_27_10_sRickWestBonnieClydeNd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307924521763905746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">This is Rick West with my parents, Bonnie and Clyde.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">My siblings were pretty adorable. There are four of them and they don’t have names yet. They sure could squeak up a storm! And they didn’t like to be held. I think I was like that when my owner first got me. It’s their wild instincts. Hopefully they’ll get owners like mine who will teach them not to be afraid.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZFBgifSRe7wYiwRHCI47ysfsP2wfBM1Q3Cpmknvl-FcngVl2pOOM14bT04P3PN_8sdw6mpVfd9LdxcTewYApto9JXIrilmruSNDuQgcFCDqB06USeVaD3c1U7UJAO08L9X_tzi9P8Ig/s1600-h/2009_02_27_08_sCaplinSiblingNd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZFBgifSRe7wYiwRHCI47ysfsP2wfBM1Q3Cpmknvl-FcngVl2pOOM14bT04P3PN_8sdw6mpVfd9LdxcTewYApto9JXIrilmruSNDuQgcFCDqB06USeVaD3c1U7UJAO08L9X_tzi9P8Ig/s320/2009_02_27_08_sCaplinSiblingNd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307924417163109602" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Me checking out on of my new siblings while Sheldon takes video and Coral holds the baby.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa_O7Y96g-0QpuJ9q-jixX0b_9dOrUiaC3RXHQEcCv5r3uKKy-5-sy0s4i_JEZPmQUORcffoAPE3TYZq2RwsxylSP06zwnDmsk3ktpnA_ANzCFUnX20isfBFTDnYvkbyHyxyDiUi6mUA/s1600-h/2009_02_27_09_sBabyCapysNd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa_O7Y96g-0QpuJ9q-jixX0b_9dOrUiaC3RXHQEcCv5r3uKKy-5-sy0s4i_JEZPmQUORcffoAPE3TYZq2RwsxylSP06zwnDmsk3ktpnA_ANzCFUnX20isfBFTDnYvkbyHyxyDiUi6mUA/s320/2009_02_27_09_sBabyCapysNd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307924296203246450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Two of my four new siblings. I have to admit, they are cute. But they are not cuter than I am!</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtN-AsHld97u8q-NL6OY_8vkcMmzwMngW6I_F3E7cB0Nnz1_jJGNNp3oPgG1R_34nTt3C2wRnsSLufvu5GzukBNe6lcA2O8jw-uWKx0d5tv6rRXZ0uWYP9Fg63lq1AEcNZKpHERPp73HQ/s1600-h/2009_02_27_11_sAbbyWestBabyCapyNd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtN-AsHld97u8q-NL6OY_8vkcMmzwMngW6I_F3E7cB0Nnz1_jJGNNp3oPgG1R_34nTt3C2wRnsSLufvu5GzukBNe6lcA2O8jw-uWKx0d5tv6rRXZ0uWYP9Fg63lq1AEcNZKpHERPp73HQ/s320/2009_02_27_11_sAbbyWestBabyCapyNd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307924188731073778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Abby West feeding one of the babies. I used to drink out of a bottle just like that.</span><br /><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">All of my humans wanted to pet and hold the babies and after a while, that started to bug me. I admit, Abby is pretty nice and I liked it when she held my leash and pet my head. But I still did not like all the attention my brothers and sisters were getting instead of me. After a while I became angry and started clicking at them, give me back my humans! We left not long after that.</p><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjscFEJVoEDzVbih2LI7Hn_jt0nx9rZoeydtOgdTDno3FrtiJ3KA4FDa-RKVeAus849G-PTMVjl3f5Wt208qvAGls7nKIRTf4FGQumjc-J9ylfzlN43aVIOtH-kjNyB6Dm5Chx-GIVYTg/s1600-h/2009_02_27_12_sCaplinCarNd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjscFEJVoEDzVbih2LI7Hn_jt0nx9rZoeydtOgdTDno3FrtiJ3KA4FDa-RKVeAus849G-PTMVjl3f5Wt208qvAGls7nKIRTf4FGQumjc-J9ylfzlN43aVIOtH-kjNyB6Dm5Chx-GIVYTg/s320/2009_02_27_12_sCaplinCarNd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307924101420375890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">In the car getting ready to go home. I have a special bed for the car.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">On the way home it was mostly dark. We stopped just a couple of times, once for gas and once for dinner, which was again in <st1:city><st1:place>College Station</st1:place></st1:city>. I got out to graze and I ate another bowl of yogurt. Lots of people stopped to ask questions and admire me. My owner put out my water bowl and I sat in it several times. I hate going so long without a nice bath or swim. But I wouldn’t urinate or defecate in it like my owner wanted me to. In fact, I held it all day until we got home. Then I ran to the bathroom to use my normal bowl! What a relief.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">You can view a video of this on my YouTube channel at www.YouTube.com/CaplinCapybara.<o:p></o:p></p> </div></div>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-21687935020869659112009-02-25T20:14:00.000-06:002009-02-25T20:45:51.226-06:00Circle of Humiliation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD01-AkIkUtAd_tCZQxrdeQDu1LB80vwtm6-jxZnBEj_tLUV8QeAWPSW6-Njd9m1qQLhZcwQZwq-TGcwxzb-TVv2j_DoNUb7hgoD_xZNA3kkt_r8TitrURN3WfxQy1Xl2SCAKn0t89bHI/s1600-h/2009_02_22_01_sCaplinBed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD01-AkIkUtAd_tCZQxrdeQDu1LB80vwtm6-jxZnBEj_tLUV8QeAWPSW6-Njd9m1qQLhZcwQZwq-TGcwxzb-TVv2j_DoNUb7hgoD_xZNA3kkt_r8TitrURN3WfxQy1Xl2SCAKn0t89bHI/s320/2009_02_22_01_sCaplinBed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306927823323007634" border="0" /></a><br /><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {color:purple; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">As you can imagine, it is difficult for a capybara to fit in with a human family. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but they are sometimes quite a trial.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This week my owner decided to bring up the whole “Do a Circle” trick again. She found this a long time ago on YouTube. In that video (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8nL-Bv2oqc">Minipan Circling</a>) a girl is teaching her guinea pig, Minipan, how to do the circle trick. The circle trick is just what it sounds like, the poor, starving pet is forced to spin around in a full 360-degree circle to get some tiny morsel.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">My owner decided it would be cute if I did that trick. Well, I wasn’t having any of it. I pretended I had no idea what she was talking about and just kept looking at her with my dark, featureless but pleading eyes. Eventually she gave up on the idea and we all breathed a sigh of relief, especially me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">But I’ll tell you something, she spends way too much time on YouTube. Eventually she came across this video (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Jstihbxqwg">Zoo Capybara Circling</a>) showing a zoo capybara in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region> that knew the circle trick! Can you believe a capybara would stoop to that? Well, zoo capybaras are desperate animals and are just dying for treats--I mean attention. That video set my owner off again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">A couple of days ago she got me in the kitchen with a popsicle, which is my current favorite food (outside of yogurt). I stood on my hind legs and begged (I know, not very dignified!). I waved. I did my tap-a-tap-a trick. Nothing happened. She wouldn’t give me the popsicle! Instead she held it over to the side of my head and kept repeating some gibberish. I looked at it with hungry eyes and reached to grab it but she moved it farther away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Let me tell you, I’m no dummy. I knew her evil plan. But what could I do? I wanted that popsicle. So I turned a little. She moved it again. I turned some more. She moved it more. This went on and on until I was all the way back to facing her and then she finally gave me a bite. It tasted delicious. Maybe even more delicious because I had to work for it. But then again, maybe not.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">She kept doing that for every single bite of the popsicle. Eventually I gave up and just did the danged turn when she waved the popsicle. It’s faster that way and I don’t have a lot of patience.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Later in the day, we had a repeat of the same stupid procedure. For every bite I had to turn a full circle. By the third popsicle, I’d given up and didn’t even pretend not to know what she was talking about.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The next day proved more of the same, only this time I had to turn clockwise rather than counter clockwise. I sadly confess that I didn’t put up much of a fight. It only took two popsicles to convince me I’d have to turn that way too if I wanted that popsicle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">So there you have it. A sad story of desperation, deprivation and humiliation. You can view the whole thing on YouTube at: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fA6Z_in2V2M">Caplin Rous Circling</a>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Don’t hate me for what I’ve become...</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KlFb820bc8QXOHg_7GIHL401Ei-FK3Zt48YD-qUKGidXER4Krrfz6vfLNrPdgPbF9b-MrtZWdD0RFbP7K-nx3-UNP7b6_DOJXx4HhaRn-gVXpBEgcGVmUAyE-dBcowhrQzLpOgbFq6M/s1600-h/2009_02_25_01_sCaplinPopsicle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KlFb820bc8QXOHg_7GIHL401Ei-FK3Zt48YD-qUKGidXER4Krrfz6vfLNrPdgPbF9b-MrtZWdD0RFbP7K-nx3-UNP7b6_DOJXx4HhaRn-gVXpBEgcGVmUAyE-dBcowhrQzLpOgbFq6M/s320/2009_02_25_01_sCaplinPopsicle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306928224199843794" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">A more dignified way to ask for a popsicle. Ah for the good old days.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOisqJnS7gMdjQYehWykrzbAQFzhvsMAIwCL5NsnHWhoBvQCZgbF83zAbZPZOU0pE8AIwQnlhQGhCnet1bA3NvyfjwnXIyhquz6MgiFYcjO9rrhASKwUHwMER0b4_jldRKMyS7_mLXJno/s1600-h/2009_02_25_02_sCaplinPopsicle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOisqJnS7gMdjQYehWykrzbAQFzhvsMAIwCL5NsnHWhoBvQCZgbF83zAbZPZOU0pE8AIwQnlhQGhCnet1bA3NvyfjwnXIyhquz6MgiFYcjO9rrhASKwUHwMER0b4_jldRKMyS7_mLXJno/s320/2009_02_25_02_sCaplinPopsicle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306927992309705506" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">Me forced to circle to get a bite.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /><o:p></o:p></p>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-17597593820777573792009-02-14T18:32:00.001-06:002009-02-14T18:52:07.830-06:00Toenail Torture<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNZK2RPwvMeWt1ajYoJEANhf5C-eU5u4kawCB0ZjlTUsVG3vXNr4xwAmcAki-_S56M-ZKHe78LGDKfk2fnVjM0OGsnf4f2LGg-OktDS5hyphenhyphen68Ymr1wg4r-l1NloM_Bzvyx9vFQfJ0j-po/s1600-h/2009_02_13_01_sCaplinVet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBNZK2RPwvMeWt1ajYoJEANhf5C-eU5u4kawCB0ZjlTUsVG3vXNr4xwAmcAki-_S56M-ZKHe78LGDKfk2fnVjM0OGsnf4f2LGg-OktDS5hyphenhyphen68Ymr1wg4r-l1NloM_Bzvyx9vFQfJ0j-po/s320/2009_02_13_01_sCaplinVet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302815857566733874" border="0" /></a>I don't think this is a good idea. We should get out of here.<br /></div><br />Yesterday was Friday the 13th. Like all capybaras, I’m not superstitious, but I still should have known something bad would happen on that day. I never would have guessed just how bad it would be.<br /><br />The morning started out normally enough. I got my usual 7:00 am yogurt. Delicious, as always. Afterward, I went to my bed in the dinning room (my owner calls this area “Caplin’s Corner.”) Through my sleepy ears, I listened to my owner’s normal morning routine: take a shower, feed the horses, get her stuff and go out to the car.<br /><br />I heard her car pull out of the garage but it didn’t drive off. Instead, my owner got out and came back in the house. She got my harness and leash and came after me! She dragged me out to the car and off we went.<br /><br />A few minutes later we stopped in a strip mall. Sheldon met us there and he got me out of the car. We went into a building that was vaguely familiar. I weighed in at 98.7 lbs. Then they took me to a little room. There was a bench in the room and I jumped up on that and sat with my owner while we waited for something to happen.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiM0r6RcOkn6wleNySUpsz4PQPYguST0678m1jKPOfZH8osUMRlt86xdLwQ083_hB27LWbWwXfJcs2d6EgRSCPG_KySIN4L1P2rBSnD3DLEoHgpyfhr9K4Gf_Mh_mIQJ-jpa94-hATVVE/s1600-h/2009_02_13_02_sCaplinVet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiM0r6RcOkn6wleNySUpsz4PQPYguST0678m1jKPOfZH8osUMRlt86xdLwQ083_hB27LWbWwXfJcs2d6EgRSCPG_KySIN4L1P2rBSnD3DLEoHgpyfhr9K4Gf_Mh_mIQJ-jpa94-hATVVE/s320/2009_02_13_02_sCaplinVet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302816221020525394" border="0" /></a>Me with my owner...waiting.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsx9Zr84AQCapy712QMdesbDdHei_qNmbDWdAy85Ri-YfKPehAv51HsQp4fm_3wuDwube-eW19Oez_ccC-8LcIHCJXS4F566DFG8sglmU3dlPFWF7CGLIo0ftf510ItBnqOFzOX8domW8/s1600-h/2009_02_13_03_sCaplinVet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsx9Zr84AQCapy712QMdesbDdHei_qNmbDWdAy85Ri-YfKPehAv51HsQp4fm_3wuDwube-eW19Oez_ccC-8LcIHCJXS4F566DFG8sglmU3dlPFWF7CGLIo0ftf510ItBnqOFzOX8domW8/s320/2009_02_13_03_sCaplinVet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302816561741343858" border="0" /></a>Me with Sheldon...still waiting.<br />Sheldon is wearing a capybara shirt from www.CafePress.com/CaplinRous.<br />It's a drawing of him holding me last time we were at the vet.<br />The irony was not lost.</div><br />Eventually the vet and her helper came in. The vet checked my eyes and ears and listened to my heart and my breathing. Then came the bad part. She tried to grab my feet! My owner held me really tightly while the vet grabbed my hind paw and used some weird instrument on it. I squirmed and struggled and jerked my foot until I got away. My little heart pounded in my chest and--I’m embarrassed to say this--I urinated all over the floor. They wiped it up with towels and then got me a clean blanket to stand on.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtS3oQYZu0oDpn8Id753CrB2JzM9p207ZoFrv_Y5042Xpvd933oFEJ3tbhm0eRVXqa_P_lBhyBh-26vv7rMzmeKE7_UcBSIOEKkSLNQ6rwynhieJ7NBvmZQpdsMTTD8nCYfLiH1fhf4Oo/s1600-h/2009_02_13_05_sCaplinVet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtS3oQYZu0oDpn8Id753CrB2JzM9p207ZoFrv_Y5042Xpvd933oFEJ3tbhm0eRVXqa_P_lBhyBh-26vv7rMzmeKE7_UcBSIOEKkSLNQ6rwynhieJ7NBvmZQpdsMTTD8nCYfLiH1fhf4Oo/s320/2009_02_13_05_sCaplinVet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302817205752043762" border="0" /></a>The torture begins.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">After a while, they tried again. The noise hurt my sensitive little ears. I could feel my foot vibrating. I kept imagining a serrated electric knife or a chain saw hacking away at my toenail, with only a matter of time until it reached my toe and then my foot! I eeped as loudly as I could but my owner only hugged me tighter. Finally I managed to struggle free. I stood panting on the blanket thinking the worst was over.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4CudJwzU4bu1A_mhb5Tpu_wt74TILwvqWQBzgOlcFDFaCQQLsO4D3PqOXI26PZh9HhxPx2_4qvL0_PCV0WhXIObiKKpiFvOqafS8K6b-tM8lHWweIMtOlac6JaPEmh4YrC9XzYSrBdM/s1600-h/2009_02_13_06_sCaplinVet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4CudJwzU4bu1A_mhb5Tpu_wt74TILwvqWQBzgOlcFDFaCQQLsO4D3PqOXI26PZh9HhxPx2_4qvL0_PCV0WhXIObiKKpiFvOqafS8K6b-tM8lHWweIMtOlac6JaPEmh4YrC9XzYSrBdM/s320/2009_02_13_06_sCaplinVet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302817665765594626" border="0" /></a>They even put this blanket over me to lull me into a false sense of security.<br /></div><br />But it wasn’t! A few minutes later, the vet came back! This time she tried to cut off my toenails--or was it my toes? I broke free again and at least got them to give up on the clipper. One small error and there goes my toe! But did they care?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">After that, Sheldon held me down and the vet worked on my toenails with the mechanical grinder. Sheldon is strong and I couldn’t get away but I sure made it hard for the vet to use that “instrument” on me.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoOgVZ6ywo9feDI_ZaTVBbj8BPCvN3gUmFvWH600Db0hWMbLHFIu_-6pNByS5wPVVCKNkstl-gXqqycPMojhdLNsbbpgBY9K_FzYf9Jx4JJoiNg-esttyg2t580TDS9is9un38uuJShU/s1600-h/2009_02_13_09_sCaplinVet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoOgVZ6ywo9feDI_ZaTVBbj8BPCvN3gUmFvWH600Db0hWMbLHFIu_-6pNByS5wPVVCKNkstl-gXqqycPMojhdLNsbbpgBY9K_FzYf9Jx4JJoiNg-esttyg2t580TDS9is9un38uuJShU/s320/2009_02_13_09_sCaplinVet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302818115104874514" border="0" /></a>It looks like Sheldon is hugging me but really he's restraining me for torture.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOkzcQq9Do6VnzNhU0-at6FQz4ffDY3z8Q8mYHG5QnfZHxQFTGVTFCc_fSn5ts7BYrEN1HhuyT9wmdHIagO8WwcOcBumGN8XrY_eU1UajES-XG0DYHgtizVclnNSo8OriLl3rVchyphenhyphenAck/s1600-h/2009_02_13_08_sCaplinVet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOkzcQq9Do6VnzNhU0-at6FQz4ffDY3z8Q8mYHG5QnfZHxQFTGVTFCc_fSn5ts7BYrEN1HhuyT9wmdHIagO8WwcOcBumGN8XrY_eU1UajES-XG0DYHgtizVclnNSo8OriLl3rVchyphenhyphenAck/s320/2009_02_13_08_sCaplinVet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302819009007568882" border="0" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">This photo isn't for the weak-hearted.<br /></div><br />Finally, they let me go. I was exhausted. I just wanted to get out of there. Sheldon led me outside where I soon collected a group of admirers. After a few minutes, my owner came out and the three of us went to lunch. The ordeal ended with an uneventful trip home. What a relief.<br /><br />I do have to admit that my toenails do look nicer now. And they were getting a bit in my way with how long they were. Still, I’m never going back!<br /><br />(You can find a video of this event at www.YouTube.com/CaplinCapybara.)Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3379315600440651701.post-45903759886182899192009-02-09T20:04:00.001-06:002009-02-09T20:09:23.762-06:00Introducing Caplin Rous<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiszFocOJwtItNFv3-EElAA7xXBwCirAjDPH52ro6_lxzxvd6JtbwnKoYwiR6FAzzFafV4yWb4bdem58A8Kup6dwLAuRWbPI6SdYIwK79-cP64M9-ffnglgSghZ0pxvCOuSiFrCEn5S0uU/s1600-h/2007_09_08_01_CaplinShaking.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiszFocOJwtItNFv3-EElAA7xXBwCirAjDPH52ro6_lxzxvd6JtbwnKoYwiR6FAzzFafV4yWb4bdem58A8Kup6dwLAuRWbPI6SdYIwK79-cP64M9-ffnglgSghZ0pxvCOuSiFrCEn5S0uU/s320/2007_09_08_01_CaplinShaking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300984030199991186" border="0" /></a><br /><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="time"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {color:purple; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} /* List Definitions */ @list l0 {mso-list-id:111871063; mso-list-type:hybrid; mso-list-template-ids:-298285430 67698703 67698713 67698715 67698703 67698713 67698715 67698703 67698713 67698715;} @list l0:level1 {mso-level-tab-stop:.25in; mso-level-number-position:left; margin-left:.25in; text-indent:-.25in;} ol {margin-bottom:0in;} ul {margin-bottom:0in;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">Hi! Welcome to my blog. This is my first entry so let me tell you a little bit about myself.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I am not new to the internet. When I was a baby, my owner wrote a weekly column for the San Marcos Daily Press. She posted her articles on blogger under the username Typpy. They’re still there so if you want to see some of her early reflections on what it’s like to keep a capybara, you can look at her blog.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve been on MySpace since I was just a capy-kitten. About six months ago, I joined FaceBook. And now I even have a store featuring me on CafePress. But my biggest internet footprint is on YouTube (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/CaplinCapybara">www.YouTube.com/CaplinCapybara</a>). My owner has been putting videos of me up there since day one.<br/></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Day one was actually day eleven for me. That’s how old I was when my owner got me. But that brings me to my “25 Fascinating Facts About Me!” I wrote this for my MySpace blog but it seems like a good place to start here. Just a little background information.</br></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">1.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I was one of five capy-kittens but by the time my owner came to claim me, all my siblings were gone. I think maybe I was the runt of the litter. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">2.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=""> </span>I have four toes on my front feet but only three on my back. They are all webbed except the little one on my front feet. And they have big claws that look like incipient hooves. Those claws really hurt if I step on you, which I have no compunction about doing. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">3.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->My parents were carnies. Their owners take them around to small fairs and carnivals where they are book as "The World's Largest Rats!" I am proud of my carnie heritage but capybaras are NOT rats (not that there's anything wrong with that). <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">4.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I don't like walking on slick, hard surfaces. When I do, I curl my toes just like I would in the swamp, only instead of making it easier, it just makes me slide around. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">5.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->My favorite food is yogurt, specifically blueberry yogurt. When I eat it I get it all over my nose and chin and then it drips on the floor. My owner always tries to clean my face with a sponge but I don't like that so I resist and try to run away. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">6.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I like to sleep under the covers. But I wake up hungry around <st1:time minute="0" hour="4">4:00 am</st1:time> and then I pester my owner and/or Rick by eeping and pushing my nose in their faces trying to get them to give me treats. I really want yogurt but for some reason they don't want to give it to me at that time. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">7.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I like to take a warm bath when the weather is cold. In the morning, I take one while my owner gets ready for work. She has a TV in the bathroom so she can watch the news while I soak. When she leaves the bathroom, I leave too, and it's always too soon. I could stay in the bath for hours! <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">8.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I always poop in the water. My owner has a water bowl set up for me next to the toilet in the little bathroom. The bowl is kind-of small for me now, I barely fit in, so sometimes I miss a little. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">9.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->Coral and Carl are staying with us now and I like to chase them down the hall. It's not that I don't like them, but they never spend any time with me. They don't pet me or feed me treats or scratch my stomach. And they use my bathroom, which I don't like sharing. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">10.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->Coral and Carl have a guinea pig named <st1:place>Neptune</st1:place> and he is my new best friend. I still miss The Rabbit a lot but <st1:place>Neptune</st1:place> helps fill the void. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">11.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I have my own store at www.CafePress.com. My owner is its best customer. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">12.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I mostly swim underwater. Unlike humans, I can close my ears and my nose when I swim so I don't get water in them. I swim with my eyes open. Experts say capybaras can hold their breath for five minutes. I never go more than about 30 seconds. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">13.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I like to lie on the table in my pool and have people feed me grass one blade at a time. That is the life for a capybara. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">14.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->When we go out, people often mistake me for other animals. The most common misidentifications are: wombat, tapir, potbelly pig and javelina. One person asked if I was a guinea pig who had been exposed to radiation. Yet even a toddler barely able to talk called me a "giant mouse." I don't know how he even knew I was a rodent. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">15.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->When my owner leaves for work, I run down to the corner of the yard and eep for her pitifully. Usually she stops the car and gives me a little treat. But she still leaves, which is wrong of her. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">16.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I am a picky eater. Some of my favorite foods that I will no longer eat are: yogurt drops, corn-on-the-cob, lettuce, frosted mini-wheats and craizens. Soon there won't be anything for my owner to feed me. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">17.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I like to eat ice but only after it has been seeped in Diet Coke. Whenever I see my owner drinking a Diet Coke in a glass, I jump up and put my paws on her lap and beg for the ice. She has taken to drinking her cokes with ice just to please me. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">18.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I have a small tuft of long hairs right between my ears. I think it makes me unique except I'm not sure that all capybaras don't have that. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">19.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->My owner wrote a book about a cat and a capybara. She got a literary agent but the book hasn't sold to a publisher yet. She is thinking of self-publishing so that it will be out in time for my Animal Planet appearance. The capybara in the book is a girl and its name is Caplynn Rous. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">20.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->When I was a baby, my owner thought I was a girl. She didn't find out until I was about four months old that I am a boy. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">21.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I like to go on long walks on the property. By long I mean time not distance. I am not a fast animal. When we go on walks my owner lets me choose the speed and direction. I wish the drought would end so there would be more interesting things to eat while we're walking. And maybe I could swim in the creek again. That would be heaven. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">22.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->One time when we were walking I almost stepped on a coachwhip snake. My owner says I'm afraid of snakes but that snake didn't scare me. I don't know why. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">23.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I like to go for rides in the car, especially now that we have a new red car that I look really good in. I stick my nose out the window when I can but my owner mostly keeps it rolled up because she's afraid I'll jump. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">24.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->There are only two people in the world that I hate: Carol and Philip. Philip is my owner's son. One day he stomped his feet at me and this brought out my territorial instincts. I can't seem to get over that. I don't know why I hate Carol. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="">25.<span style=";font-family:";font-size:7;" > </span></span><!--[endif]-->I bit my owner once but I would NEVER do that again. Probably. I mean, you're never supposed to say never, right?</p>Caplin Roushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06923985456564491989noreply@blogger.com5