"Dudley," I asked him this morning, "aren't you going to stick around until Friday? We can celebrate the two-year anniversary of your adoption. Maybe order in some millet?"

But how could he resist the Thanksgiving feast they're putting on in Hammie Heaven? Not with those cheek pouches.

We miss you, Dudders.
Give everyone our love.

Dudley Peers Over the Wall

A Dudley in the Hand

22 November 2012 |


 We built a house. 

 Rabbits tolerate us. 

  We play modern board games.  

 I hunt the dead.