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

Look what we made for Daddy! (and by we I really mean I)

A free digital ecard by Smilebox

My brother's kind of a wimp!

Daddy decided to do some trimming on us the other night. He did Smudgie first, and I was jealous. I waited patiently, wagging my bum, and pawing him occasionally just to make sure he knew I was waiting.

But Hudson fussed and wiggled and squealed and ran away and hid and carried on like a big old baby.

When Daddy was finished with Smudgie he'd trimmed around his eyes, and cleaned out his paw pads. And of course, Daddy had shaved a little on his bum. The uprights call it a "poop chute." They do it to me too, and I don't mind.

But Hudson minds.

As soon as they were finished he started skittering around, with his bum tucked all the way under him. He says that the draft freaks him out and that they should leave him alone. He was funny.

He even ate his dinner sitting down, all curled up like a shrimp (which is kinda funny since he IS so short). But since his bowl is up high, he had to stretch out his neck to reach. I thought it was about the funniest thing I'd ever seen...until...

Mommy put our muzzles on us (still yucky) and sent us out to do our business. I went out and was hanging on the deck, but Hudson needed a lot more convincing. He finally got up, ran out with his bum tucked way under, and then sat down in the snowbank to protect his newly shaved poop chute area from drafts.

I don't think he considered the fact that a snowbank is actually worse than a draft.

He sat down for maybe a second, gave out a gigantic yelp, and jumped straight up about thirty feet, maybe even a whole mile.

And I saw Mommy and Daddy at the window, laughing. Even I had to admit, it was funny.

Smudgie tried to run in, but they wouldn't let him in until he peed, so there was quite the disagreement at the door. Finally he peed, and they let him in, and he spent the entire evening constantly changing positions in the bedroom, trying to keep that little chute protected.

I, of course, handled it all with dignity and class. I like having a family that cares enough to take care of me...even if it means standing still for a bum shave. Hudson rolled his eyes at me, and told me (again) to stop complying with their every wish. Why does he have to be so bossy?

Anyway, I just wanted to share Hudson's latest indignity with you. Take care all, and guard your flank!

Rudy, with the happy (and well landscaped) patootie

So here's what I've learned about Louis Riel Day...

Apparently, this is what it means:

-Daddies still go to work, and stay really really late.
-Mommies stay home, but spend most of the day working on report cards.
-Mommies do bake cakes, but then they lock them up to take to work...without sharing!
-Laundry is a big part of the day.
-The piano must be practiced with a vengeance.
-Big doggy brothers are still mean.

There is no special dinner, special walks, or other celebratory events.

Overall, with the exception of having Mommy home (which was nice and all), this Louis Riel Day appears to be much ado about nothing. Not even a heart shaped pile of kibble, or any mini chocolate bars.

Bah humbug!

Take care all,

Rudy Riel

Tomorrow Is Louis Riel Day...

I haven't heard much about getting shaved lately. I'm cautiously optimistic. Right now Mommy is freaking out about having to do her report cards, and apparently the "site" is down, and she's going on and on about how they did something called an "upgrade" to the system last night so of course it wouldn't work today, and who in their right minds messes with things on the weekends leading up to report card deadlines.

Poor Mommy.

Anyway, I found a picture of this guy online. All I can figure out is that he has something to do with the history of Manitoba, and that he must have lived a very very long time ago, back when people existed only in black and white (kinda like sheepies when you think about it).

So tomorrow Mommy gets to stay home from work, and hopefully play with us, all because of this guy. Maybe he's not all that bad after all.

Take care all, and Happy Louis Riel Day...I hear things worked out well for him!

Rudy, with a little gallows humour

They keep talking about shaving me.

I am afraid.


Very afraid.


I know it's wet and gross out.


And I know I'm pretty matted in my tummy...


But I was kind of hoping they'd forgotten about this shaving nonsense. After all, it IS winter in Winnipeg. How could they be so cruel?


Mommy keeps saying this weekend...something about Louis Riel Day. I don't know who that is, but I don't think I like him, all things considered.


So, I've been trying to lay low, but Smudgie keeps pointing me out to Mommy and Daddy. What a meanie. He even showed me this picture:

He says this is exactly what I'll look like after this weekend.

I'm shaking in my fur. Truly I am.

Help!

Take care all, and send sweaters...

Rudy, who is much too modest to prance around naked

My brother is so cruel.

Hi guys.

I had a really, really scary experience last night and I didn't like it one bit. First, Daddy was supposed to come home early and take care of us, but he didn't, so I was trapped in my crate until what felt like midnight. Mommy had an appointment (to get pink dots on her nails....how silly) and she STILL got home and rescued us before Daddy even arrived.

What a great Mommy I have.

So after dinner, and a nice outing to Poo Corner, we headed up and watched some TV. All went well, until...

I decided to rest in the hall just outside the TV room. And that's when it happened.

My evil brother went to his corner, and pushed the door shut and locked me out. I was separated from my family for hours, maybe days, possibly even a whole month. And I missed the entire last half of Glee as a result!

No one noticed. No one came. No one cared.

I knew that this was the end. I'd had a family for a year, and really liked it, but a year is all I was destined to get.

I hung my head down, cried a tiny cry, and waited for death.

Then, just as I was preparing to go into the light (which I knew would show up any second) I heard a voice on the other side of the door. I was pretty sure it was the Grim Reaper, coming to collect my sad little soul so I could move on, but it did sound a little like Mommy.

It said, "Where's Rudy?"

Then it said, "Where is the big Bozo?"

Now I was pretty sure that a Reaper would be a little kinder than that. You'd think there would be a little more sensitivity than that. It repeated, and then I heard a second voice that sounded like Daddy.

I'm here. I'm here I thought.

Then there was this whole discussion of where I might be. Mommy figured it out pretty quickly that snotty little Hudson had locked me away. Daddy just kept making this laughing sound (clearly it was the sounds of joy that I was not yet lost forever).

It goes against my nature, but when they called, "Rudy, Rudy!" I came to the door and pushed it, just a little, with my nose. It opened a tiny crack, and I got the little black tip of my nose inside.

My brother was sleeping with his back up against the door, and that's when he showed his true colours for all to see. He leaned back, flopped over, and slammed the door shut, forcing my nose back.

Again, I was locked out.

Again, I started to sob.

I heard voices in the room, but they were fading. My world started spinning, and they seemed to be arguing about who had to get up to rescue me.

Finally I heard Mommy say, "Well, you owe them a huge apology for not getting home on time. You get your little tushie out there and save the Rudy."

And he did.

My Daddy opened the door, and made Hudson move, and I got to come back.

To my family.

Yay!

I was happy, but still so hurt. I curled up on the couch and sighed, not even making eye contact, but the best thing happened.

My Mommy and Daddy were on the bed watching TV. (Mommy says that since Daddy's painting the bedroom at a rate of fifteen minutes per weekend we'll be sleeping in there forever.) They both leaned over and called me. They wanted me. They called me up on the bed.

My heart swelled and I joined them.

They patted me for hours. And I stretched this way and that. My tummy got extra rubs and pats.

It was heavenly.

So in the end I was saved. And with all the patting I got, Smudgie was very jealous. He came up on the bed too, and I ignored him for months. Then I just couldn't stay mad anymore, so I let him bitey fight me. On top of Mommy. (I don't know why she doesn't enjoy that as much as we do.)

I asked him later why he did that to me. He laughed and said, "Get over it." I will keep an eye on him. He's really mean to me sometimes. But he's also my best friend. I find that really confusing.

Take care all.

And make sure you always know where your loved ones are.

Rudy, rescued again

I snuck out again

Mommy says she doesn't trust me anymore. She's been watching me like a hawk ever since.

The hole in the fence was just too much to ignore. It took me a while to find it, but when I realized that fence board slides when you push on it I had no choice but to explore.

Now it's blocked, and again I'm in the proverbial doghouse. Sigh. I stayed out of trouble and I came right back...why can't Mommy see the bright side of this?

Take care all, and curb your wanderlust. It only makes the people who love you go crazy.

Rudy, the not so happy wanderer