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Hey, everybody. Mom asked me to be Guest Blogger today, 'cuz she and Dad are still feeling a little low since that kid left a few weeks ago. So I said, sure! if there's some treats involved. Specifically, people food treats, 'cuz they're way better than any stupid old dog food, right? Right.
So my name is Hubbs. My fancy-schmancy AKC name is Hubbs von Kurtzbine, but you can call me Hubbs. Or Hubber T. Dog, which is short for "Hubber the Dog." Just don't call me late for dinner, OK? I'm a miniature dachshund, but don't you dare call me mini-anything, or I'll take your leg off at the ankle. I'm just as tough as any so-called "large breed," just concentrated in a smaller package.
I live a pretty nice life, all in all. Mom and Dad spoil me pretty darn good. I guess if I had one complaint it would be that I deserve people food all the time, not just for the occasional treat. 'Cuz people food is way better than any stupid old dog food, right? Oh, I already said that. Well, it's true! Mom and Dad say that people food upsets my stomach and I have little "accidents" when I eat it. Huh. They say. I think I handle it just fine, thank you very much.
I have a nice yard, which I guard very well. The daily delivery dorks -- the UPS dude, the Fedex guy, and the Mail dude, all fear my uber-guard skills. They don't even come into the yard anymore; they just leave packages at the gate or toss them over. Huh. Got them trained.
There's a bunch of weird, feathered animals that live in the house. They're called parrots. I don't bother them; they don't bother me. Mom and Dad seem to appreciate that I don't try to eat these parrot things. I guess most dogs would try; I don’t particularly care. They're funny little things -- always squawking and flapping these things called wings. A whole lotta fuss over nothing, I say. I'm so mellow around these parrot things that I can sit on Mom's lap while she has a parrot on her shoulder. The parrots seem OK with it, and Mom likes to be able to pet both of us at the same time. What a circus, huh?
OK, I gotta jam. Got a yard to guard, ya know. The delivery dorks oughta be showing up in a few hours, and I gotta catch a few winks and be ready to terrify them. Catch you later. Mom ought to be back later this week. She's doing a little better. I miss that kid that used to be here, too. He was good for a few people treats and pets now and then. Bye.