My name is Butternut, but you can call me Butters. On second thought, you can call me Bitternut. Let me explain.
My mommy was a nice lady with a great singing voice. She would sing songs to me and my brothers. My daddy was my hero. He worked at home, exercised a lot, coached my brothers, and had even met Michael W. Smith. My brothers were awesome. The dominated the backyard football games. I was so proud to be a Nordhoff. I even had a neighbor who had two dogs that kind of looked like me. At least I think he was my neighbor. He was always there mowing and even promised to give everyone in the neighborhood a tv, or something like that.
But then it all came crashing down. I developed a skin condition and was without a home. I can't really say I'm homeless because I live with a new family in a new house, but it'll never be Nordhaven (that's what I call my home).
I'm trying to get back. I created this blog as a means to find my family. Maybe you've seen 'An American Tale.' If you haven't, you should see it. It's about a Russian Mouse named Feivel who is looking for his family.
The family that stole me from the Nordhoffs watches this movie often (I think they might be Russian). Each time I see it, I'm reminded of my home.
Papa Eric, if you're reading this, I miss you. Tell mommy to sing extra loud tonight, so that maybe, just maybe I can find my way home.
