West Highland White Terrier
Picture of Duncan, a male West Highland White Terrier

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Home:Coppell, TX  [I have a diary!]  
Age: 23 Years   Sex: Male   Weight: 11-25 lbs

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   Leave a bone for Duncan

Dunc, Duncan Fife, Duncan MacAllen, Duncan Donuts, Dinky

Doggie Dynamics:
not playfulvery playful

Quick Bio:

Sing-a-longs to "My Girl", "The Theme from Jeopardy" & "Nessum Dorma".

Having his nails clipped, being surprised, cheeky kittens, having his ears cleaned

Favorite Toy:
Red squeaky ball (pretty much shredded), plush hedgehog, plush squirrel, Winston-Perry & Sophia (he teases them & vice-versa)

Favorite Food:
Anything, as long as it is on our plate and not in his dish.

Favorite Walk:
Anywhere & everywhere around the neighborhood

Arrival Story:
We had been in our house about a year and my wife decided to give me a dog for my birthday. She wanted a Cairn Terrier (yep - she wanted a Toto). We had looked around for a breeder and found a family on Midway in Dallas who raised Cairns & Westies. We called and were told that they only had one Cairn left at the moment and he was spoken for, but we were invited to go over and meet the puppy anyway. We went. As it turned out they only had the one Cairn, but they also had a Westie. He was the runt of the litter. They brought the two puppies into the room and they started rough housing with each other. The Westie would sneak up, nudge the Cairn and take off running. He would get about three feet away before he would turn around to see if he was being chased. If the Cairn ignored him he would go back nudge him again until the Cairn would be chasing him around the room. Next thing I new my wife was patting the floor and calling "Here Duncan, come here Duncan!". He went home with us that day. I laugh every time I think about the fact that this was supposed to be my dog and, as it turned out, I had no say in anything - including his name. Needless to say I don't know what we would do without him.

Duncan grew up with two cats (Greta and Kitty Mo) who have since gone on to the rainbow bridge. A few years ago he adopted to new kittens, Sophia and Winston-Perry. He has trained them well as they pretty much dote on him and will come keep him company whenever they get bored with each other. Duncan is also a little odd in that although he can never seem to get enough water to drink, he hates to get a bath and he absolutely will not go anywhere near our pool.

The Groups I'm In:
Westies Unite

I've Been On Dogster Since:
April 1st 2004 More than 12 years!

Rosette, Star and Special Gift History

Dogster Id:

Meet my Pup Pals
See all my Pup Pals
See all my Pup Pals

The Duncan Times....

Peanut Butter isn't always the best treat!

June 5th 2005 10:03 am
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I thought that I should explain my new picture. You see, that is as close as Mom & Dad say that I am ever going to get to peanut butter on a stick ever again.

I suppose I should start from the beginning. Mom was using her tiniest spatulua to put peanut butter on celery (sounds like a gross treat, doesn't it?). Knowing that she was never going to give me any, I decided to get Winston-Perry to distract her. (Winston is one of my little kittens and I've always been able to convince him to do things - no matter how stupid. What can I say, he is the perfect little brother...) Then, when Mom wasn't looking, I stole the spatula full of peanut butter. Mom tried to take it away from me as soon as she noticed, but I wasn't going to give it up without a fight. We ended up in a tug-of-war. Mom had the handle and I had the good stuff. The next thing I new, Mom was standing there with the handle in her hand I had the good stuff in my mouth. So I proceeded to do the only thing any puppy in his right mind would do... I swallowed it.

The next thing I knew Mom put this big dish of water in front of me. I drank it down without thinking - I should know better. Mom had diluted some hydrogen-peroxide with the water and sure enough, within 10 minutes I was throwing up. Now I understand that she was trying to get the rubber spatula out my stomach, but I don't think that was a very nice trick. Anyway, as I said, I threw up all over the place but no spatula. Mom & Dad called the vet and he thought it was small enough and it would "pass". He was wrong. The next day I was at the Vet's with a very upset stomach. Since I couldn't get the spatula out on my own - the Vet did the only thing he could. I had surgery the next morning.

The end result is that I'm back to my old self and I have the coolest little scar on my belly! And I don't care what they say - if I can figure out a way to that jar open that peanut butter is mine!

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