American Hairless Terrier
Picture of Nicki, a female American Hairless Terrier

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Home:Athens, GA  [I have a diary!]  
Age: 10 Years   Sex: Female   Weight: 11-25 lbs

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   Leave a bone for Nicki

Nick, Little Bug, Cutiebutt, Bud, Buddy, Shorty, Big Shot, Tough Stuff, Dammit, Miss Adventure; Flyball nickname: Lizard Girl

Doggie Dynamics:
not playfulvery playful

Quick Bio:

October 15th 2006

eating, racing, fetching, chewing whatever, hunting edible objects, hunting inedible objects, swallowing whatever, eating, climbing, challenges, killing stuffies, leaping, ripping, shredding, eating

pushy dogs, pushy humans, cold hands, cold rain, hot days, dead grass and other poke-y things, dog seatbelts, nail clipping, disturbed naps

Favorite Toy:
Tennis ball! And if I had it my way -- socks!

Favorite Food:
Whatcha got?

Favorite Walk:
To the line up for flyball or to the course start for agility.

Best Tricks:
What hole? That hole was in the blanket when I got here. Burp.

Arrival Story:
They say I was the runt and that everybody picked on me and took my toys. I guess that's why my first human mom segregated me from the others. When I was seven months old, I met my new human folks and, since no one was allergic to me, I went home to them a few weeks later. It was scary being in a new place with lots of dogs that looked like me lurking about in shiny surfaces. But I soon got used to it and started running the place.

Yes, I'm pink and hairless. If I had a bone for every time someone asked if I "came that way," I'd be really fat. Some dogs have pushed-in faces and I ain't got no hair, 'kay? Yes, you may touch me, but please be polite and let me sniff you first. I am a daredevil acrobat with no fear of heights, but Mom keeps me from being as dazzling as I know I could be. I like to climb to the top of the tallest piece of accessible furniture so I can keep my eye on things. I often stand up like a meerkat so I can get a better view. I can't stretch quite enough to reach most people food, but I keep trying. With my front paws, I can almost turn a doorknob, I can open the gate and I can grab just about anything. If only I had thumbs on my monkey paws.

Forums Motto:
Nick the Knife, Bug Assassin

The Last Forum I Posted In:

Speed de-stuffing, mesmerism

Full name:
Flinthill's Nicolette (after the Cummings' poem "Of Nicolette")

VOTE for Nicki in The 5th Annual World’s Coolest Dog & Cat Show!

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Please vote for Me at The 5th Annual World’s Coolest Dog & Cat Show

I've Been On Dogster Since:
October 1st 2008 More than 8 years!

Rosette, Star and Special Gift History

Dogster Id:

Meet my family

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Tougher Than I Look

Humble Servant

May 10th 2011 6:35 pm
[ Leave A Comment | 1 person already has ]

My momma practices this thing that basically means "nonviolence." It's called practice because she hasn't got it right yet. So I'm helping. I'm a helper.

I'm also a chewer. I'm telling you, there is nothing more satisfying than a good rip through a fleece blankie, chewing on all that softness and then gulping it down. Mm, boy. I ate a whole half a shirt once just to see my momma turn three shades of red 'cuz it was the guest's shirt. Hee hee.

She says stuff like "emergency vet" and "blockage" and such as if that's supposed to affect me. Shoot, I just eat a few bugs and hark'em up on the carpet. There's your blockage, lady. Nice and cleared.

Anyway, my mom brought home a soft, plushy dog bed yesterday. It was supposed to be for my little foster sis who is in a lot of back pain right now and needs a really low bed on the floor. I snuggled right into it. Bliss. Sheer bliss. I put my whole mouth around the bolster side. Then I looked up out of the corner of my eye to see the momma glaring down at me. (Nonviolent my cute little butt, right?)

I got a few bouts with a Skinneeez raccoon as a legal soft toy and I left the bed alone. But, you know, my momma isn't going to deepen this practice thing without me messing with, um, I mean without opportunities for growth. So when she got sidetracked taking care of my little foster sis, I saw one of those opportunities.

Yesterday's intact bed has been beautifully redesigned with strategic openings for the fluffiness to pour out its white bits upon the carpet, far and wide. It's lovely really. The momma didn't agree, but didn't say a word. I sat chewing my bone ("What? No, I was only chewing this the whole time.") and watching as she calmly restuffed the bed and then put it away. Because I am such a helper, I showed her some fluff that she missed.

My work is selfless really. I exist to serve, to help with lessons in patience and reminders to make more logical choices. It is a sacrifice I am willing to make to wake myself up at pre-dawn hours in my momma's bed and bark at the top of my lungs, "Awaken and be fully present! Be here now!" and then settle back down to sleep. A humble servant, that is what I am.


Dear Santa

December 5th 2010 10:53 am
[ Leave A Comment | 2 people already have ]

Dearest Santa,

Santa, buddy, what I really want is world peace and for all species to join in a song of love and brotherly sisterhood and stuff. If I can't have that, I suppose I will take a few material things.

Like a sturdy jump set outside.
And stairs. I don't care where. Just stairs.
And MEAT. Mounds and mounds of MEAT. Raw or cooked, I'm not picky.
And a tennis ball that will zap the mouth of any dog who is not me. Bwahahaha!
And a real live squirrel. Right between my paws.
And my momma's sole attention forever and ever.
And microfiber blankies. One for snuggling and one for eating.
And MEAT. You got that part, right?

Now I know there is a stipulation in the gift contract concerning nice or naughty behavior. But Santa, buddy, what does "naughty" really mean existentially? My intentions are nothing but the best; therefore, my actions are always nice. It is irrelevant that my behavior is erroneously perceived as rude, bratty or -- banish the thought -- naughty. Well, I never.

You're a smart dude, Santa. I'm sure you can see my point.

We don't have a chimney, so just leave the loot on the back deck.

Love ya,
Angel Nicki



October 9th 2010 2:17 pm
[ Leave A Comment | 3 people already have ]

Mom brought an alien creature home. It's called a cat. For me? Thanks, Mom.

The cat is really talkative and she keeps teasing us. Mom wants this dogs and cat living together stuff to go slow and easy with scheduled training times, working up to the day that we can all eventually share a home in peace.


All I know is that I. Want. That. Cat. I'm not sure what I want to do with the cat, but it will probably come to me. A few of the other dogs have progressed to being with the cat off leash. Evie especially thinks the cat is just swell. Mom says that two of us need remedial work and we don't even get to be within six feet of the cat. She said she really thinks that I need to start from down the street. Fun-nee.

I've lost weight thinking about that cat, wanting that cat, jumping and jumping and jumping behind a gate if I think that cat is anywhere near. Cat! Cat! Cat! Want it! Want it! Want it!

Gotta use my superior terrier brain power to come up with a plan to get that cat. Brute force and total nutball obsession haven't worked. Hm, something clever ... hm ...

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