11 years ago, i was born somewhere in middle missouri. some nice people came to check out us little pups to choose which one they wanted to take home. at first, these nice people chose some wimpy little guy that i used to push around a lot. i was sad, but a few weeks later, those same nice people took me home! seems the wimpy guy developed a hernia and couldn't be adopted just yet, and i was next in line. lucky me! my older brother was adopted by these same people a couple of months earlier.
i was dad's birthday present for his 32nd birthday. over the years, rudy and i saw LOTS of changes. we lived in st. charles, glendale, maplewood, and affton. we saw the addition of a little girl named hanna, a boy named tyson, and another little terror named eli. along the way, we also gained a new buddy, a big ass dalmatian named rocky. we've always had nice back yards and certainly nice living accommodations.
a short while back, i lost my brother rudy. that wasn't so easy. even though he was a cranky, sort of chunky guy, i miss curling up with him on mom and dad's bed. so i've had to make some changes, like curling up to rocky and he's really big and he smells sometimes, but i have learned to love him. the first time i met him i really let him have it. i think i could have taken him if dad would have let me.
through everything, i'm still dad's shadow. i still hunt animals in the back yard, i still drag in the occasional rabbit carcass or dead bird, and i never back down from a big dog (except certain pittbulls, which are pretty scary).
i'm 11 years old today and i don't feel much different than the day i came home.