Again I don't get it!

This man keeps coming over and taking apart Mommy's piano. She hasn't played it in weeks. Now it's in pieces, and clamped, and in the middle of the living room.

It's actually hilarious. Smudgie's afraid to even go in the living room. Tee hee.

The little part with the little hammers and brand new felt is on the floor, and it smells yummy and looks chewy, and every single time I get my teeth around it someone yells, "Leave it!"

If it's not for me to chew why is it on the floor?

Hmmmmmm?

Upright logic makes no sense to me at all.

Take care all, and remember, apparently pianos are not food. Harumpf!

Rudy, the piano tuna

She came back!

Will wonders never cease?

Mommy came back yesterday, around lunch time. She came back with Uncle Garth and lots of bags of stuff. She went shopping in Grand Forks, but didn't bring back any new cutlery.

I'm confused, but I don't care....SHE CAME HOME TO ME!

When I told Hudson how happy I was he laughed and called me a doofus. He says he knew all along. Could he just have been messing with me? I'm not sure. Why would a sheepie be mean like that?

Take care all, and kiss your Mommy today.

Rudy, no longer semi orphaned.

My Mommy Ran Away!

She's gone.

Forever I'm sure.

I knew that things were too good to be true.

Yesterday she left with Uncle Garth, and her pink flowery suitcase. (Mental note: If I EVER see that pink flowery suitcase again I will PEE ON IT!) She got into Uncle Garth's car and I never saw her again.

Sometimes she goes places with him and comes right back, so I wasn't worried at first, but when it was time for bed and she STILL wasn't home, and Smudgie and me had to spend a whole day with just Daddy taking care of us (the horror)...I KNEW something was horribly wrong.

Smudgie says I am such a bad boy that I made her leave. He says it's all my fault because yesterday when she cut our toenails I didn't fuss and kick like he did. He says she likes that challenge, and if I make things too easy for her she'll leave. And he says that's exactly what happened.

Oh woe is me! Woe is Rudy!

I woke up this morning, hoping she'd be there. But she wasn't. Smudgie was right. She's gone.

I'm pretty sure that it's been weeks now...maybe even a month. I think I may have been so sad that I slept an entire month.

Oh Mommy, why did you go? Daddy said something about Grand Forks, but I KNOW we have all kinds of really nice cutlery here already so there's no way you went looking for special forks for us. That would just be silly.

It was nice knowing you Mommy. I'll remember you always.

Take care all, and don't let your Mommies out the door, just in case.

Rudy, the abandoned.

My Brother is Mad at Me

Everyone kept saying, "Beware the Ides of March." So, I did. I laid low, kept my head down, and waited for it to all be firmly behind me.

Turns out the "Ides of March" was Smudgie's birthday.

And I didn't blog about it.

So he's mad and he thinks I don't love him, and he's been grouchy and mean to me. Mommy says it's not so much that he's grouchy and mean about that. She says he's just bugging me because he loves me. I think he's grouchy and mean because he's a grouchy old fart now. Even Mommy and Daddy sometimes call him the CurSmudgeon.

So Happy Belated Third Birthday to you Hudson, and now could you please stop chasing me around with that green spray paint? I know you're just messing with me. There is NO RULE that says I must be tinted green today. I thought the "Ides of March" were on the fifteenth. There is NOTHING SPECIAL about the seventeenth of March. Just leave me alone.

Take care all, and beware of those wearing green today.

Rudy O'Patootie

If Daddy really doesn't want me to eat my fur, why does he stuff it under the couch?

I'm just saying that anything on the floor is fair game, and I do have a habit of eating tufts of fur that fall on the floor, so why would he put it under the couch when he cleans out my brush? It MUST be a treat for me.

And then, when it makes my tummy all upset and I throw up on the new rug, doesn't that make it all HIS fault?

Someone please explain this to my Mommy. I never eat hair out of the garbage can (although to be honest, it's only because she got one with a secure lid so I can't)...but hair on the floor, in my book, is called a "snack." Why else would Daddy stuff it under the couch instead of putting it in the garbage? I'm so confused.

Take care all, and remember, under the couch equals treat for puppies

Ralphing Rudy

Pianos are kinda scary. Maybe Smudgie was right.

For her birthday, Mommy wanted the piano fixed. Apparently they are supposed to be tuned every year, and we are at least thirty years too late on that one.

Some nice men came over, but me and Smudgie got locked upstairs. We barked and barked our helpful suggestions to the men, but I'm not sure they heard us very clearly.

Anyway, I heard something about fixing the cabinet, and that all the "felt" needed replacing...okay, I must admit, I know nothing about felt but it sounds tasty, so maybe we'll get to eat the old stuff.

Also, it needs tuning...I dunno...sounds okay to me.

Then he took all the "hammers" and stuff out and took it with him (the hammers and stuff, not the piano part that looks like a piano) to his shop to fix. It made Mommy sad. She says she'll lose whatever skills she's gained. I dunno. It all sounds good to me, and I think she plays very nicely. Mommy says thanks when I tell her that, but then insists on reminding me that, since I eat socks, my taste is in question. Harumph.

So, there we were (me and Smudgie, not me and Mommy), having a small bitey fight by the now empty, hollow piano, and Smudgie got a little big for his short little britches, and he barked at me.

And then the piano barked right back at him.

And he jumped, and he yelped, and he ran upstairs and hid in the corner behind the bed.

Poor Smudgie.

Daddy laughed at him. I heard him explain to Mommy that without all the piano "guts" Smudgie's bark echoed off the soundboard, and that's why the piano barked back. I guess it is kinda funny. But Smudgie sure didn't think so.

Now we're back to him being afraid of the piano again, which is too bad. He had finally gotten used to it, and Mommy really liked it when he slept by her feet while she played.

What a baby.

But, to be fair, ever since it barked back at Hudson I must admit I make sure to give it a little distance myself. No sense it taking any unnecessary risks after all.

Take care all, and keep an eye on your piano. You never know when it will strike next.

Rudy, who is not as high strung as Smudgie