Nards Ricki Boyce is our cairn terrier who recently just turned 12 years old. Her name comes from the Do It Yourself Hardware Store, Menards, because when my kids were little they thought it was called, "The Nards". Her unfortunate middle name comes from the popular talk show host (at the time) Ricki Lake.

We got her from a horrible puppy mill in Jewel, Iowa, and she had pneumonia when we got her. She didn't eat or move, she just sat in her basket with bubbles coming out of her nose. I took her out to go to the bathroom in the snow, and she fell over. The sadistic vet (the only one I could get on the phone on December 23rd) said "That dog is going to die, so you better just forget her and get another one."

My husband bundled her up, and drove over an hour to a country vet, who brought her back to life with electrolytes. When she came home, we fed her baby stew with an eyedropper and Gatorade. She felt so much better, that when I carried her past the chicken frying in a pan, she jumped into the pan.

She does exactly what she wants to, and has no use for anyone who isn't eating. She was our first dog, and she looks exactly like Toto. Her personality is a cross between a cat and a tomboyish lesbian. A cat because she doesn't care what you want or how you feel. She can't be bothered! She is sturdy and rugged like a lesbian, and doesn't allow a male dog to sniff her or mount her for any reason, or, at any time. She also does not want you to pet her, and refuses to come when called. If you say "God, damnit, Nards!", she will reluctantly come, but then back away just out of reach.

Her hobbies include:
Mounting her 20 year old brothers leg every chance she gets (Yes she's female)
This disturbing behavior has been going on since he was 8
Rolling in stinky items, such as dead fish on the beach or lizard poop on the patio
Staring for twelve hours at a time down a grate where a chipmunk lives
Running away from home at any opportunity
Snapping at the air
Eating gravel
She most fears:
Tinfoil
Smoke Alarms
Her greatest joys:
The Schoolbus
Chicken
Her Big Adventure:
Once in the darkness at 5 a.m., I let her out into the backyard of our new unfenced house, thinking she would never run away if I was watching her. I kept talking to her while she pooped, but she still ran away, and even "God damnit, Nards!" didn't bring her back. My husband found her almost 2 miles away, happily strolling down the middle of the highway, and when she saw him, she wasn't scared or excited. She's Nards, damn it!