Age: 17 Years Sex: Male Weight: 11-25 lbs
|Home:Durham, NC ||[I have a diary!] |
Leave a bone for Hud
Dogster stats for Hud
4 times 37
Hudson, Budson, Bud, Hudson-Budson Boy, Little Shit
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|-mutt||-pound dog||-dog rescue|
April 1st 1999
Sleeping under the covers. Playing with my sister Lyla, but ONLY when I say so. Swimming. Squeakers inside toys. Acting tough. Grandpa's lap. Staring out the window.
Gosh, I'm a terrier; got a few hours? Having my nails clipped. Walking in the rain or in wet or cold grass. Being moved when I am sleeping. Electrical things that make a click noise when turning on or off. See? I've run out of room already. I don't l
Plush toys with squeakers. I am the champion of disembowlment!
Anywhere my feet won't get wet. Grandma & Granpas woods.
I already said I am a terrier. I don't do tricks!
Mom adopted me from Orange County, NC. I was all by myself in a cat room cage at the Shelter. I was really cute and tiny and Mom got talked into adopting me by my old Dad. I weighed just 3 pounds 8 ounces when they brought me home and have been a terror..I mean, Terrier ever since.
The Groups I'm In:
"Family" Dogs, Carolina Canines, President Isabel's Animal Abuse Commission, The Pound Puppy Project
I've Been On Dogster Since:
|March 6th 2005
||More than 11 years!
I Was In The:
♥Mom♥ 2005 Mother's Day Stroll!
Rosette, Star and Special Gift History
See all my Pup Pals
See all my Pup Pals
April 27th 2005 6:17 pm
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Much to mine, Lylas and Moms shagrin, the next door neighbors have dogs that are left outside all of the time. When we first moved in here we were optomistic that we had some ready-made friends, but that wasn't to be. Grandpa was taking care of us while Mom was out of town shortly after our move. He was driving us back home and despite Moms protests, just opened the door to the minivan after we got home, expecting Lyla & I to go running straight for Mom and the open door of our new house. I obeyed because I knew that Lyla wouldn't and that would mean extra love and treats for me. Lyla scaled the fence next door which Mom totally hates that she can do and the fact that she always remembers that she can drives Mom mad. So there is Lyla prancing around the neighbors yard sniffing out new friends. She got cornered by the mean Dalmation whom is never white with black spots, but rather dirt colored with spots. Lyla is cowering in the corner whilst the Dalmation is snarling and snapping at her. My dumb sister forgets now that she can climb fences and Mom has to scale it and heave her fat frame back over to safety. We haven't visted since.
Well, our brilliant neighbors have added yet another noise to their yard recently. The dirty Dalmation isn't that noisy really but the Rat Terrier whom is also dirt colored with spots and the newly arrived Jack Russell can make one helluva racket. They bark and Lyla and I get mad and we bark which makes Mom mad and she barks too.
It's too damn noisy here.
April 17th 2005 6:52 am
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Mom finally got bitched at in English for not updating my diary. One of Mom's favorite Foster Mommies at her work gave her the tongue lashing, so she understood it. I've been trying to tell her for days, but obviously we need to do some tweaking to our bark-to-english translator.
We live outside the city limits and have few neighbors and lots of trees and quiet. I am not as bothered by the deer, turkey vultures and occassional stray cat as my sister Lyla is, but what I saw walking down the road the other day scared the crap out of me, and Mom.
I was perched in my customary position on the bed in the office/guestroom staring out the window where I have an unobstructed view of the street. Mom was at the computer when I saw it. I began belting out my most pissed bark which of course roused Lyla off the couch and she came running brandishing bark. Anger transference occured when Lyla tried to invade my view and Mom had to step in and tell me not to be mean to Lyla for no reason. We were going nuts so Mom had to look too.
Walking down the road was a man in full fatigues and strapped over his shoulder was a gun much longer than the mans torso and head combined. Mom ran for the phone thinking she would call the police but her NY city raised brain could not seem to figure out if this is legal out here in the country. Legal or not, Lyla & I were MAD!! Mom calmed as the man strode out of sight and tried to explain to us that we would be no match for such an intruder. Well, we did tell him that we didnt appreciate his close proximity to our little house at least.
Mom was completely weirded out and says she misses the harmless freaks she used to live amongst. I would have to agree that this was way too much freak for any of us.
April 2nd 2005 4:51 am
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So, Mom finally read me my Dogster bio and I had no idea she knew so little about me!! Damn, I've been living with her for 5 flippin years already! She obviously is much more dense than I thought.
I suppose I feel the need to clarify Mom's purported dislikes of mine. I HATE having my nails clipped; yeah, well they are MY nails aren't they? Plus, now when I have to get them done strange people put a muzzle on me, won't let me squirm away and take my nails against my will. Believe me, dogs, like my sister Lyla, who don't mind having their nails clipped are dim.
I don't like the rain or getting my feet wet on walks. Is this really so difficult to understand? The rain messes up my hair and we've already established that they are MY feet, haven't we?
I don't like being moved when I am sleeping? This is incredibly comical. I mean, Mom will be woken up out of dead sleep when I bark at noises of the night and yell for me to be quite and she can't understand why being physically moved while I am enjoying my much needed rest annoys me? I actually am beginning to feel quite sorry for Mom and her diminished mental capacity.
Now, the fact that electrical things that make click noises when they are turned on or off is slightly harder to explain. You see, I live in my own world of noise and any outside variation of my perpetual hum is like an unwelcomed visitor. I mean, I can shake it up and bark whenever the heck I want to, but I haven't invited all these clicks. Ceiling fans are the absolute worst sound-space invaders. Not only is there a click, there is the added motion of the whirling blades. It spins my head out of control; a complete and total disruption.
Alright folks, I hear thunder in the distance and need to let it know that it is unwelcome! Bark on!
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