I don't post enough blogs here. I'm a dog, for god's sakes. A Jack Russell, to be exact. I am always on Twitter at http://twitter.com/#!/Rudythejack and I have a very selective small group of Facebook friends. Still, one of my Wiener Dog friends (okay, he's not technically a Wiener Dog, he's something else, but I don't know what) told me I should post more on my Posterous blog.

Man, I am so busy chasing stuff, eating and sleeping and plotting against cats and squirrels, it's just hard to find the time. But I am told it's about my "brand." My brand? What the hell is that? I don't even have a logo. I'm not a celebrity. How could I be a brand? It's not like Hartz or PetSmart will be slapping my Jack Russell mug on a box of dog treats or flea collars. I'm not LeBron James.

Yet here I am, putting one key in front of the other, toenails clicking, paws snapping on letters and trying to get out my message. And what is my message? Damned if I know. 

I never dabbled in witchcraft or lied about my past or took money from a giant corporation, so I can't run for office. I'm too honest to be a CEO. I'm kind of spoiled, but not enough to be a professional athlete. So why do I need a brand? 

I've eaten Tampons, poop and two rocks. I like to bark in the dark because it makes me feel bigger. I love to go to the airport to see the planes and I watch football lying on my back so the action is upside down. I have jumped on the table when no one was looking and eaten meatloaf, hamburgers and a big bowl of mashed potatoes. 

I have no idea why I'm telling you this. But if it helps my chances of getting more mashed potatoes, then it was worth every click. I gotta go. My butt itches.