I was born a poor lil huntin' dog in a small town in Ohio. It was so small it had a "Now Entering" and "Now Leaving" sign on the same post. I not very good with geography, and I was so very young, that I do not remember the name of the tiny town, but we call it the "Daisy Hill Puppy Farm".
When I's was born me and my brothers and sisters and my real momma lived in a box. I didn't like the box, so I figured out how to get outta there pretty fast. I is ALWAYS and forever hungry, so I figured, why not chew on these here walls?! I nibbled and I chewed and you know what? It really wasn't very bad; kinda bland, could've used a little sugar or honey or sumfin, but I'm not too terribly picky. My human daddy says I eat anything, rusty nails, broken glass, and bark offa tree. After a lil while, I had a pretty descent sized hole in them walls and me and my brothers and my sisters escaped. We had such a good time running around a really BIG box! The big box had cushy furniture and soft rugs and oh so many things to chew on! Lol, I miss those days.