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

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