Kerry Blue Terriers: The Adventures of Buster, Persephone, Bailey & Gracie

2012-01-07T22:11:00.000-05:00

Okay--there's absolutely NO excuse for failure to keep up with important correspondence. Bailey here. Please find a way to forgive me. I have been, well, indisposed.

As you can see, I have been fitted with a humiliating Clown-Suit, and I have been subjected to the most unnerving harassment by my human tormentors.

It seems that Doctor Joe had to remove a lump from my Nether regions, and because I am a terrier, those blessed primates don't trust me to leave well-enough alone!

Gracie, of course, slithered around with her big brown eyes, looking like a canine Shirley Temple. She mocks me.

Buster's on a chewing-spree, but we shall not speak of that. Suffice it to say that Gracie has picked up all his annoying habits and a few of her own. Such as an alarmingly deep-throated bark and a tendency to go airborne without warning.

I really MUST take some photos and write more. In the meantime, I shall leave you with a picture of Friday night's sunset, as seen from the University of Hartford. I'm doing post-grad work in bedding evisceration and fiberfill mastication there.

Your almost-faithful correspondent,

Bailey

The Aftermath: 7 1/2 Days of Pleistocene Existence come to an end!

2011-11-06T15:20:00.000-05:00

Your buddy Buster here: Good News! The Wolves are no longer at the door! After seven and a half days of living like, well, a wolf, the power came back on in the middle of the night last night. I must say, this was a pretty humbling experience!

Let me introduce my newest, BEST friend, Snuffles the Kerry-Warmer! He sputters and purrs for about 3-4 hours at a time, providing Bailey and Gracie and Yours Truly with real warmth from a small electric heater. After that time, our human lackey gets up in the middle of the night and feeds him.

Snuffles had to be purloined from the People's Republic of Rhode Island, since none of his kind remained in Connecticut. I'd like to be that popular!

Miss Bailey really appreciates being warm. She's getting on into her Prime-Diva years, and she likes to curl up beside the electric heater by the window and just soak it up.

Now that the furnace (and everything else) is running again, our pack of not-so-dire wolves has ventured out onto the Tundra to survey the damage and chase small, furry creatures.

Gracie has absconded with MY squeaky tennis ball...

Miss Bailey stays close to the noonday sun!

And what could be better than to engage my trusty side-kick, Gracie in a good old-fashioned Bark-Fest?

Miss Bailey indulges in her patented, ritual back-scratch.

Today's by-word? Canis Familiaris ! With the emphasis on the adjective! I like being domestic! Warmth. Regular meals. Dutiful human servants. It's not a bad life! How did our lupine ancestors ever manage?

Your friend,

Buster

Dispatches from Arborgeddon--by Buster

2011-11-04T16:40:00.000-04:00

There was an early snowstorm in New England this week. The guy on the radio says that sixteen inches of snow hit the trees before the leaves had fallen, and promptly the trees came down. I think I'll take a look....

Hmmmm.... Bamboo patch carpet-bombed. Not a good sign!

Let's walk down the street!

Now I know why the power's out and mom can't make her hot cocoa....

This explains the loud cracking sounds all night!

I tell you, this is not looking very promising!

Ya know, I think we're going to be here for awhile!

Gracie tells me we'll be without electricity and heat for awhile; just like in the Old Days, when wolves howled and lived by their wits!

Postscript:

Well, it's been a full week with no electricity, no heat, no internet. Dad's posting this from his University for us. I'm tired of wolfdom. I'm bored. I want a hot pizza dinner and a bath! Send help!

Your Born-Again DOMESTIC canine friend,

Buster

Farewell, Pond!

2011-10-28T22:47:00.003-04:00

Buster here. I suppose it was bound to happen. Again! Off we go, North to our little slice of Paradise, then very shortly, things start to disappear. The dock. The canoe. The running water. By then, I know it's going to be a long winter!

There's a certain chill in the air...and the wind is relentless!

Our green sugar maples are turning to red and orange. But Mr. Loon still holds forth, occasionally unleashing his lonely cry.

Are they really going to take MY CANOE away? Dang! And I was just learning to paddle!

No one's around. Except the Loon. But I think the place is kinda pretty with no humans.

Moments like these make a gray-bearded dog kind of reflective. I just can't remember what I was reflecting upon.

The White Pine That Ate Cleveland is shedding its needles all over.

I think I'll take my human manservant for one last walk down the road!

Okay--Battle Stations! I get the back seat for the trip home!

We pass the old arched bridge over the Ashuelot River.

The recent rains have created a torrent!

Then, before I know it, I'm home! I hope spring comes soon!

Your friend,

Buster

"He Took His Vorpel Sword in Hand, Longtime the Manxome Foe He Sought..." -- The Saga of the Leaf Monster, Part 36

2011-10-23T16:15:00.000-04:00

And it came to pass that once more the vile and fearsome Leaf Dragon did make his cursed appearance within the realm of Sir Buster!

'Twas a creature of malevolent design and great cunning.

Sir Buster's faithful Squire, Mistress Gracie, had never before seen such evil.

Together, they worked on a strategic plan of attack!

Sir Buster rested a bit to focus his attention fully upon the task at hand, remembering the words of the Bard, "Now rested he by the tumtum tree, and stood awhile in thought!"

"One, two, one, two, and through and through, his vorpel blade went snickersnack. He left it dead and with its head, he went galumphing back!"

To be continued, next year, same time, same place!

Your faithful Scribe,

Miss Bailey

Northbound Again!

2011-09-14T22:20:00.000-04:00

Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind,
there's a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling,
calling. . .let us go.

Apologies to Robert Service. The Land of the North beckons. Savage, ineffable things. Nature red in tooth and claw. It's Buster, at your, uh, Service...gosh, I love that kind of talk!

Let me introduce my faithful apprentice, White Fang Gracie!

Swift as the panther in triumph,
fierce as the bear in defeat,
Sired of a bulldog parent,
steeled in the furnace heat.

You know, the thing I so love about Robert Service's poetry is that it is so wonderfully bad!

My diminutive apprentice scans the horizon for wolves and advancing glaciers.

All clear!

We spring from the gloom
of the canyon's womb;
in the valley's lap we lie;
From the white foam-fringe,
where the breakers cringe
to the peaks that tusk the sky

Oh, Bliss! The best of Nature and the worst of human Poetry...it doesn't get much better than this!

So gaunt against the gibbous moon,
Piercing the silence velvet-piled,
A lone wolf howls his ancient rune --
The fell arch-spirit of the Wild.

Okay--Butterfly Break! I think this is some kind of fritillary.

Gracie, of course, being a GIRL, has to dress for her role as a savage, whale-blubber-eating, sledge-puller.

I paint my cheeks, for they are white, and cheeks of chalk men hate;
Mine eyes with wine I make them shine, that man may seek and sate;
With overhead a lamp of red I sit me down and wait

We interrupt this fantasy for a brief Rudbeckia Break. Nice, huh?

We return now to our dashing Buster of the North!

This is the Law of the Yukon,
that only the Strong shall thrive;
That surely the Weak shall perish,
and only the Fit survive.

Hey, what do you think of the cool braids above my noble snout? De Rigueur when ripping the entrails from a seal!

White Fang Gracie is temporarily disoriented by snow-blindness, so she must rock a bit.

Jewel-Weed Break! Factoid: The hummingbirds have left the North Country. Why? 'Cuz these little gems are now in bloom all the way down to the Gulf of Mexico! By the time the little guys reach Yucatan, they've snarfed enough sugar to give an elephant palpitations.

I haled me a woman from the street,
Shameless, but, oh, so fair!
I bade her sit in the model's seat
And I painted her sitting there.

Ya know, I have to admit that White Fang Gracie is definitely hot!

Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind,
there's a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling,
calling. . .let us go.

There MUST be a Bulwer-Lytton Prize for breathtakingly ill-conceived poetry. There's a terrible beauty in stuff like this. But the Pond is, well, outside the range of language.

End of Arctic Reverie. We're back home. And what's real and what's not? The girls--Three Horse-Dogs of the Apocalypse--gather together in Persephone's backyard to terrorize defenseless wabbits.

It's a job.

Your faithful correspondent,

Buster

The Little Matter of Hurricane Irene

2011-09-02T22:05:00.001-04:00

Buster at the keyboard tonight with a brief account of one MISERABLE weekend, watching objects blow around, and worse, NOT BEING ALLOWED OUTSIDE!

We collected candles and batteries and yucky sort-of-edible stuff in cans, and then we waited....

Here's what Irene did to a tree around the corner.

Then, she filled the rivers with just-a-bit-too-much water! This is the Quinnipiac River intruding into a yard down the street.

The Farmington River developed a real attitude and just kinda moved off of its banks and started flooding things!

The Upper Collinsville Dam just disappeared.

Dad says he never saw the river at nineteen feet and 30,000 cubic feet per second before! He took this video next to the old Ax Factory, which of course, ended up underwater. The "standing waves" in the video caused the sluiceways in the old mill to back up.

Gracie took a tour of the place and was hard-pressed to find a dry spot!

Bailey and Gracie are regrettably getting into the spirit of the thing--the Cyclone, that is--by doing their very best imitation of the Flying Monkeys from the Witch's Castle. More on that later...

Your faithful correspondent,

Buster

The Return to The Pond

2011-08-27T22:32:00.002-04:00

Hi, friends! Bailey & Gracie here--just back from New Hampshire in time to catch Hurricane Irene.

We vote for going right back!

Anyway, we thought we'd share a brief account of our adventures before the power goes off...

Our most important Mission: Chipmunk Patrol !

Alvin tormented us by scurrying about in the Pachysandra below the deck, collecting sunflower seeds from the birdfeeder; but he DID NOT get in!

Mr. Loon was there to greet us. It's reassuring that some things never change!

Lunatic Buster carried his Sacred Tennis Ball around the front deck, tossing it and retrieving it over and over again.

I, Bailey, demonstrated my self-assurance by leading myself around by the loose end of my collar. This technique is all the rage in rural New Hampshire!

The little ones came and went, competing with diminutive ferocity for the sugar-water that will propel them across the Gulf of Mexico in a few weeks.

Our loon buddy proceeded to empty the pond of trout with enviable professionalism.

What do you think? Isn't my posterior elegant?

Big Bird strolled the grounds, terrorizing the frogs.

All in all, The Pond--like a good St. Emilion--improves with age. Honestly, it gets prettier every year!

And the reason we were tormented by Vile Chipmunks? Northern Waterthrushes! In an evil conspiracy with the nefarious rodents, they kicked extra sunflower seeds out of the feeder and down to the garden below, where the little striped reprobates stuffed them into their pouches.

Gracie, of course, was one wandering girl--she went everywhere!

How do you like our "Bookend" routine?

Note the recent addition of the Chipmunk Pursuit-Prevention Net. The humans have NO sense of humor!

We'll share more pictures later! Just gotta get through this darned cyclone first!

Your faithful correspondents,

Bailey & Gracie

"A Thousand Cherry Blossoms Fall in Defense of the Homeland"-- A saga of Samurai valor, by Buster

2011-08-02T13:00:00.000-04:00

Comrades, I tell you, it was a close call! A malevolent Invader had massed his forces against the sacred Homeland, assisted by diabolical technology that could only be defeated by the spirit of Bushido and the wise customs of my Kerry Blue Ancestors!

I knew that I had to oppose this evil threat--even at the cost of my own whiskers. Buster, the Samurai would prevail against superior forces, and my name would live forever at the Yasukuni Shrine.

I wrote my last Haiku in blood:

     Life flies as the wind

   Rushing through the open door,

   Dog biscuits crumble !

Then I bad final farewell to my fellow warriors and commenced my mission:

The above footage was captured from the Enemy, who perversely claimed that he was only attempting to water the grass. Nefarious lies! I showed him how a Samurai terrier NEVER surrenders!

The Evil Invader slunk off in defeat and shame. But I had to ensure that his Weapons of Mass Destruction were neutralized, and that he could never subject my Homeland to such a threat again.

I returned to my washitsu, assumed traditional posture upon the floor, and participated in a tea ceremony with my admiring family.

Your friend,

Buster

Report from the Front: "Dear Mom," Chapter 2

2011-07-31T21:31:00.020-04:00

Dear Mom:

Yes, we're still fine!

We do hope that you and your little wunderkind-diva, Gracie the Favored One, are enjoying yourselves up in the mountains. We forgive you for leaving us with the crazed Lesser Male, whom we cannot torment as much as you. He simply launches into an exegesis of the advantages of canine lobotomies, smiles, and asks us politely to stop barking. WE NEED SOMEONE CAPABLE OF MANIPULATION. We miss you!

The temperature has fallen to the boiling-point of bronze, and we're chillin'! Life is good in the South!

I--Bailey, the Previously Anointed One and Actual Diva--continue to guard the domicile against the incursions of the Evil One. Yes, there are Wabbit Turds all over the back yard, and my status is upgraded to Defense Condition 2! One more turd, and there will be a massive retaliatory response. WMD!

Buster allows that he is not especially concerned. About wabbits, or much of anything!

A piece of work, that one!

The Price of Wabbit-Freedom is Eternal Vigilance!

You will never have to worry.

Just relax, and enjoy your stay beside the Pond, up in the cooling airs of New Hampshire, with that little courtesan gold-digger.

Buster is vigilant in his own bizarre way, but not about anything that matters...

Please note the sterling condition of the object of his deepest affection!

Under normal circumstances, Buster's beloved Wilson-ball is only knowable to him by the quarks and gluons that indicate the path that it has taken. Why? Because he's color-blind. Now, his yellow Wilson is even LESS distinguishable from the nearest clump of grass!

Behold, Exhibit A:

Impressed? Watch this!

Consequently, our heroes were forced to move up to "close range," in order that Buster could "see" the ball.

My theory is that he never actually "sighted" Wilson; he merely plowed the ball forward in space-time with his ponderous schnozz, creating a gravitational void into which Wilson plummeted!

Anyway, no worries, we're doing just great down here on Devil's Island. Dad promised that we might be eligible for parole in a decade or so.

Love,

Bailey, the Previously-Anointed One

Dear Mom

2011-07-21T21:45:00.003-04:00

Dear Mom:

We're excited that you chose to run off to the cooling waters of The Pond in boreal New Hampshire with that little parvenu, the insufferably cute little diva, Gracie.

Don't worry about us. No, we're doing just fine, holding down the fort at home, watching the temperature climb to levels previously measured on the surface of the sun.

Yes, we're okay.

We thought we'd send you a brief report of our activities.

Buster agreed to do the blog entry. He loves keyboarding almost as much as he enjoys stealing Gracie's toys.

More about that later...

I've been guarding your home against a pestilence--an invasion--of EVIL WABBITS.

You must understand that this is a duty that I take more seriously than most terriers.

One particular EVIL WABBIT sought to undermine the very foundations of your house by burrowing beneath it. Suffice it to say, I followed him.

This really does represent some of my better work, don't you think?

In the meantime, Buster has been playing nonstop BusterBall all through the evenings with a singular intensity one sees in droid-besotted humans playing Angry Birds in an airport.

And yes! The hare-brained, testosterone-addled boy-child, incapable of catching a weal wabbit, has purloined Gracie's! Nah, nah nah nah nah!

Then there's the little matter of the heat... while certain annointed Chosen Ones were cooling their posteriors in the cool mountain airs of the Granite State, we have been guarding the gates of Hades down here in Connecticut with a resolve worthy of Cerberus, the Arch-Kerry Himself. Observe Dad's car thermometer as it registers the outside ambient temperature at 5:30 p.m.

We just wanted to let you know that you shouldn't be concerned about us. All is fine.

Give our best wishes to the little brown-nosing Miss Cutesy. We're taking good care of things (Did I mention the new septic tank?).

Love to all,

Bailey

An Account of the Unspeakable Stress of the Fast Life beside The Pond in New Hampshire--by Buster

2011-07-13T21:44:00.000-04:00

Blog-buddies, I'm BACK !

Yes, Bailey and Gracie and I have just spent the most awesome couple days amid the restless urban sprawl of New Hampshire!

Well, I'll let the pictures do the talking!

Plainly, this place is hopping with activity.

What do you get when you cross an American Bison with it's domestic cousin?

Somehow, "Beefalo" sounds just wrong!

Anyway, it looked like the Beefalo farm had diversified its portfolio anyway.

Here's the center of Marlow, NH.

Finally--Pond, Sweet Pond!

Gracie has to check things out. Poor Bullwinkle tried to swim across the pond, but all the attention scared him off.

The hummers came and went...

Bailey and Gracie watched patiently from the inner porch.

Sometimes, two females would show up at the same time.

The guys never show this much cooperation...

I began my summer aerobic routine to get in shape. This takes time and LOTS of effort!

Big Bird stalked the perimeter each evening...

The chickadees came to call...

And Mom gave me an awesome haircut!

Don't you think I look quite debonair?

Your friend,

Buster

My First Birthday--by GrrrrrAcie the Grrreat~

2011-07-07T20:00:00.001-04:00

It came and went and my huMOMM didn't even let my new blog buddies know.
It was Mother's Day, and she may have, sort of forgotten the fact it was also
MY, ME, GrrraCie the Grrreat's FIRST birthday ever...
like, I was a whole year old!

Here I am -- I am verrrry cute -- my huMomm took a first picture of me ever, up at the Lake!The Following pictures were taken whilst I grew into the GREATNESS that I am today.. so check it out!

Notice the surprised look? Well it's just a trick of the camera -- my NOSE is not that BIG! But it looks pretty funny. My HuMomm says I look like a cute flower with the bottle-brush beard...

The Yellow Collar was my new collar, and it has my name "Grrracie the Grrreat" on the blue tag...and where to take me if I am lost.

As I got older and outgrew the pretty yellow collar, I borrowed one from Ms.Blue (she has the most beautiful collection of collars! -- She's like the Emelda Marcos of the Kerry Blues...only collars not shoes!) To get back to Me Me Me...notice I'm flirting? Well I decided I needed to cultivate this here flirting thing!

WAIT WAIT... I WANT TO SHOW MY REAL COLLAR!!

Fast forward to "spring" and my sore nose..........

; I wasn't feeling so well, I had a really sore nose! It was swollen and my eye on the right side was running and I had to see a "vet".... she was nice vet. When I got home, I had a prezzie waiting for me.

My humomm said she was saving my new collar for my birthday but thought I needed it then...
It's got purple in it and it's a Celtic chain... and I'm an Irish dog.. so
it really looked pretty on my curls...and I'm pretty vain.. so, well,
it did help me feel better, because
it was verrrrry pretty, with my swollen nose.

Back to our regularly scheduled program...

See how quiet and demure I look, holding my new leash w/the purple salamanders? Purple is my color... This was also a "Lake Picture" -- I do like the lake.

I like this picture of Me Me Me and Ms. Blue -- I sure was a little pipsqueak, because Ms. Blue is a bit on the vertically challenged end of height. She was teaching me to watch for chipmunks and to be patient. I looked now what are we gonna do??? hmmmmm

Oh another Lake picture--we went to close the cottage up for winter and it was sooooo cold my huMomm thought I needed a jacket, so I borrowed Ms. Blue's...it was toasty warm and I was getting reeeeeally tired.

Oh sure, they had to put this picture of me and the purple (my favorite color) ball in there.. I was zonked out from carrying it all over the place... zZZZZZZZzzzzzzZZZZzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZzzz

HAH!
theBUSTER and I were playing Cerberus...only Ms. Blue hadn't jumped up to be the third head. The humans think this is soooo funny, theBUSTER and I play this all the time. The GNAH GNAH noise is pretty intense.

Well, here's a picture of FALL' when I couldn't help myself but pick up leaves with the ball, then role around in the leaves.

When Fall comes, everythingfalls from the trees and boy it doesn't take long for it to fall......

I think I must have just had a bath and haircut in this. My huMomm just loved all the colors on the ground and her little blue dog in the middle....she said I was "Cute!"

She also said, "Wait 'til the snows come, Grracie..... you think this is neat!

What are snows anyhow? I mean it just doesn't make sense to me......

O.K. I think I've got it! Not yet, you say? How do you
know...this stuff is kinda cute as a moustache . Besides, I'm cute too, I have a snow-stache!

O.Keeeee , the above may have been my "first" snow... but this one below it is...

MY FIRST REAL SNOW!

Oh my! I feel sooooooo small... Look, I can't even see the shed! I can't even see theBUSTER, or Ms. Blue? Where am I anyway? HELP!!! ANYONE OUT THERE??? HELLLLLLLOOOOOOO..
Can someone please help me? Puleeeeeze?

Alrighty, they didn't really leave me out there to be an icicle; it just seemed that way! They all thought it was pretty funny, because I had never seen SNOW! Well, I bet there was a time
when they had never seen the stuff either... so there!

************* ----snowflakes---- ***************

'Tis the SEASON TO BE JOLLY, FA LA LA LA LA!!!!

This is embarrassing....they said I was an elf and needed to dress up for the
OH K sion ...whatever that means! I am soooo cute.

Santa Paws and elves and trees in the house..
what else is gonna happen in my first year?

OMG
wOw!!!!

They got the rest of them in their elf costumes too!
Then they made us all sit and stay •OR• in Ms.Blue's case lay down and stay... The humomm said it
would make for a more interesting family "portrait"...

Like what is this portrait thing anyhow?
People are strange about this SEASON thing.
I sat, but then after 100,000 pictures I just figured I would rush the photographer....arrrrrrgh!
I showed her my pearly whites...and then hurled myself towards the camera person...

HAH!

Hee Hee, Ho Ho...that was my first Christmas!!!

Would ya just look at that... Christmas was just a while ago, then New Years, now I'm getting all gussied up to go to
Florida with my humomm and make my debut!
I'm special...I'm going to the specialty!

This is me getting my hair cut of the century.. getting ready to take a ride to the "Kerry Specialty".... what is a Kerry Specialty? I mean really, I am special already, I don't need to do a "Kerry Specialty"....do I?

Uh Huh... I did have to go... and I gaited! See how cute I was! I got prizes, and I got to meet my daddy dawg.... ----------

He is sooooo handsome.
I don't know if he realllly noticed me; he didn't play the gnah gnah game and make lots of noise like theBUSTER , but I sort of liked him anyhow!

I was in a crate right next to him and he did make me happy and felt a little like I was at home. Daddy-Dawg is theBuster's cousin.

When I got back, I was very happy to see my people, my BUSTER, & MS.Blue, so I stole theBUSTER'S Wilson..... and made up a song ---- "Ode to theBUSTER & Wilson" by G.
Listen closely, it's a fugue!

The "SNOWS" are gone and the birds are out, chirping, but the grass hadn't grown up yet, so everything was kinda .....brown. I was chewing on my favorite stick. My people said it's "spring-time"....so this is spring, my first spring. Much has happened, winter was very busy with snow and ice storms and more snow ....and more ice storms.
After all, this was GRRRRRacie's First Winter! Now it's my first SPRING!

SPRING is kind of WINDY, and warm and busy!!!
We can run around outdoors because it's SPRING!

theBUSTER said let's play "Wilson", so I said, "HEY, it's Spring"... so we can play ball now! He was kind of silly about it -- told me I was a little sprout the last time we played...hee hee...check this out! I'm NOT a sprout anymore.....

I'm a big Kerry Girl NOW! I like playing ball with theBUSTER, but, I also like just chilling with
the little blue ball that I had when I was a little sprout. It looks very small now.

I got a new purple chain for the summer, because the humomm said we would be going to school! I'm not sure I'm ready to go to school yet -- those yellow buses are awful big
and, well, I kind of like being at home with my peeps.
&
Getting into trubble----that's my middle name.

My huMomm said I looked as "happy as a piggy in s®†¥˙¨t..."
Wonder what that means?

I was just digging a hole to China via Australia so I could see my buddy
Noah.

Well blog buddies, she cleaned me up so I could say 'bye.'
Stay tune for my Summer-time escapades at the lake!

We will be at the lake for the fourth of JULY.
I don't remember what happens on the fourth of JULY,
but theBUSTER says it's lots of fun....

Bye blog-buddies..until I get back from learning to swim!!
One Year Old, Grrrrracie the Grrreat, coming to you Live...

p.s. isn't she cute? theBUSTER

P.P.S.
HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!!!!

FROM: theBUSTER, Ms.Blue, Ms.Persephone & me, Grrrracie the Grrreat!

My New Career as a Digger--by Gracie

2011-06-20T20:59:00.013-04:00

My Uncle Buster has lately been spending hours telling me tales about the fabled Noah and his Clan of Diggers, down where they have to wear suction cups on their paws to avoid falling off the bottom of the planet.

I made up my mind that I WANT TO BECOME A DIGGER, just like Noah!

Uncle Buster described how he and Bailey learned the craft and spent many hours trying to tunnel to New South Wales! He was VERY proud of his work.

Just like the ANZAC Diggers of old, Uncle Buster and Bailey Blue trained day and night, focusing their energy, and dedicating their souls to the objective of reaching the Blue Mountains of the Antipodes!

With an appropriate sense of humility and dedication to the task at hand, I began my work!

Not bad, if I do say so myself!

Of course, I was caught red-handed by the feared Digger-Polizei! I promised I would NEVER confess!

The Digger Police lined me up against the Wall and asked me to say some last words.

Nice wall, don't 'cha think? It was actually constructed as a result of my recent training as a Digger!

It was my good fortune to escape before it became necessary to blather something like, "It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done..." But La Guillotine was not in my Karma. I howled at the rabbit sitting in the front yard, and he returned a contemptuous stare.

Uncle Buster came to my rescue and escorted me inside.

We settled down for our evening Ear-Licking Ritual, and I dreamed of Australia.

Your faithful correspondent,

Gracie

Digger, Second Class

Critter Status--by Buster

2011-06-14T22:00:00.009-04:00

Hey, blog-buddies--it's Buster, bringing you the latest news on my personal collection of wondrous critters!

Yes, you probably figured that I'm particularly FOND of critters. I chase them. I dream about them. I bark at them. And I have an awesome collection!

Here's my good buddy, Big-Bird! Back as usual to his favorite perch on the dock next door to my very own estate on The Pond in New Hampshire. Big Bird out-fishes everyone, and he likes to strut around and act, well, big !

Mr. Loon has returned.

No sign of Mrs. Loon--but no matter. He enjoys the solitary life. He's competing with Big-Bird to see who can empty The Pond of trout the fastest.

Then we have The Vile Rodent of Whom we Do Not Speak! I will follow him 'round the Norway Maelstrom and through Perdition's Gate...Oh, never mind!

Mr. Catbird is pleasant enough...

Perhaps with a garnish of whole-grain rice and the proper herbs.

You know, I love a parade!

I especially love a parade of fuzzy, goose-stepping little critters with nasal-sounding barks.

I love the spectator watching the parade!

Life is good.

Looks like my gosling friends are old enough to drink! Party time?

Well, that's all the critter-news for now.

I'll keep you posted!

Your friend,

Buster

Once More, to the Pond! -- by Gracie

2011-06-03T21:54:00.001-04:00

This is where I came in!

Buster and Persephone and Bailey
adopted me last summer--
with the help of my human mom.

My first memories were of the magical
place they took me.

The Pond!

Now I'm back!

And it's as breathtakingly beautiful as I
remember it.

Mr. Loon was cruising about
in his customary spot to greet me.

The tadpoles scurried around...

Evening approached, and the wind died down.

Trout rose.

The vexatious water pump was connected,
and it worked.

Two adolescent bald eagles came to fish.

And I remembered being a puppy one year ago!

The trip back was pleasant, but I wanted to stay.

Next time...

Your friend,

Gracie

Goose Report

2011-05-26T21:31:00.004-04:00

Hey, Foie-Gras fans!

Your friend Buster, here,

with an update on

MY GOOSE BUDDIES!

The little guys are getting

MUCH BIGGER...

They're gangly and awkward,

and they're very much into

SOCIAL NETWORKING!

Mom takes them out individually

and provides the very best

goose-step lessons.

They march together like the Prussian Army!

Here's the whole thing in action:

Pretty cool, huh?

Your friend and keen observer of

Ornithological wonders,

Buster

My Fuzzy-Critter Friends--by Buster

2011-05-17T20:56:00.008-04:00

Guess what just came to a store near me?

You guessed it--the fabled Goosapedic, Sleep-Number Bed!

Guaranteed to provide your goslings with the very best
in high-quality, deep-REM sleep!

Of course, there are a few problems to be overcome
when you visit the Goosapedic Showroom
nearest your house...

Specifically, the Security Guards!

This was the first thing I saw that indicated
a potential problem...

And this was the last!

Anyway, my adventures will continue.

Next time:

Non-aggressive, napping mergansers,
doing what every boy-child does
when the ladies are out doing all the work
supervising far-too-many kids.

TTFN,

Buster

Irrational Exuberance: Delirium Gracilorum

2011-05-13T17:00:00.001-04:00

Gracie vs. Buster in "BusterBall Smackdown"

2011-05-03T21:52:00.003-04:00

Friends, it's Buster, the All-Time, World-Cup Champion of the Fabled Sport of BusterBall, here to announce that a Challenge has been issued and I must respond!

Gently.

Discretely.

With Compassion.

I must take pains not to humiliate!

She really has no clue what she's up against...

Gentleman that I am, I shall give her a trial run:

Now, that was interesting!

Okay, I'll show her my stuff...

Good Heavens, DID YOU SEE HER? Where'd she come from?
Area 51?

Did you see those defensive moves?

The girl's a BusterBall Machine !

Should I retire my jersey? Sell insurance and coach?

Oh, the Humiliation!

You're deflated correspondent,

Buster

The Sort-of Wonder Dawg

Happier then a pig in s†¥¨˚¬t --a statement by Grrrracie the Great

2011-04-30T18:02:00.003-04:00

My humomm sez, "You're lucky you're cute!"
....now why would she say that? I already know I'm "cute".
I was a good girl and I showed her how to decorate those bricks at least 4 times today!
She just didn't appreciate my feng shui.....

grrrracie the grrreat!

pee ess....today Ms. Gracie got a bath <---wonder how long that clean kinda feeling will last!

Penguin Love: The Tragic Case of Gracie, the Formerly Normal Puppy -- by Buster

2011-04-27T21:37:00.005-04:00

It happened so suddenly...

No one could have suspected or imagined.

She was a happy, quite ordinary, crater-digging, squirrel-chasing, garden-stomping terrier.

Then she met HIM.

And everything changed.

Behold, the tragedy:

If anyone out there can offer advice...if anyone can assist in retrieving our poor, besotted Gracie...I beg of you, tell me what to do!

Your anxious correspondent,

Buster

My Penguin, My Love--by Gracie

2011-04-25T20:36:00.011-04:00

I. l'Adoration du pingouin

II. l'Extase

III. l'Empathie profonde

IV. la Rapture

Meilleurs souhaits,

Votre ami,

Gracie

Gracie's Schtick

2011-04-15T22:37:00.010-04:00

I. The Preparation of the Schtick

II. The Entry of the Schtick into the Jaws of Death

III. The Zen of Gnaw

IV. The Contemplation of the Schtick

V. Destruction

VI. Clean-up

VII. Schtick: The Movie

Thank you for your support!

Your friend,

Gracie

Sunday Sabbatical

2011-03-27T20:27:00.018-04:00

Hi, folks! Buster, the Gentleman-Adventurer, at your service today with a tale of my most recent exploration of far-away lands and exotic cultures!

In truth, we traveled about a mile. But that's a lot in dog-miles!

The PT Cruiser headed south, and after being tossed about by numerous cyclones, arrived in Terra Incognita--my favorite place! -- Quinnipiac River Gorge !

The habitat is to my liking. There are ducks and geese and deer and trout. Lots of things to chase and bark at!

I commenced my exploration in the usual, most sensible way--by following my shadow.

The trees here are very strange--growing out of the basalt, their roots exposed by the erosion of the ancient riverbed.

Dutifully, I examined a trunk...

Eventually, I came upon a flock of novices from an ancient holy order and flirted with them. They complimented me on my dark, furry cassock and my Irish demeanor. Bidding them farewell, I continued on....

The Quinnipiac River was burbling along, carrying with it the seven billion metric tons of snow that vengeful Celtic gods had cast down on New England.

There was a hint of spring in the moss surrounding, well, the spring in the rocks.

At length, I bade farewell to my river. I'll bet it looked just like this many millions of years ago! That's a consoling thought.

Next stop: dinner!

Okay, I confess! When it comes to exploring, I'm basically a wimp. I love the excitement of new things, but then I get hungry...and I start to miss Bailey and Gracie...and most of all, I miss my mom.

Don't tell anyone--please!

Your faithful correspondent,

Buster

Young Grasshopper Learns the Zen of Busterization

2011-03-25T23:26:00.007-04:00

Hi, folks--sorry it's been so long. Mom's got me supervising Miss Gracie, and she has so much to learn. Like the proper technique of Busterization.

Now, normally, it takes a novice many years to master the art. But I do admit, this kid has talent!

Tonight, she selected the Dreaded Orange Orb With a Tail.

I demonstrated the basic double-paw-and-incisor technique!

The rest is history.

I am so proud!

Your buddy,

Buster

The Persecution of Mr. Crab, as Demonstrated by Gracie, the Connoisseur of Seafood

2011-02-26T20:40:00.011-05:00

First, the result:

The Arsenal of Technique:

I. The Transverse Paw-Assisted Buzz-Saw

II. The Surprise Surgical Strike

III. The Direct Frontal Assault

IV. The Decapitation

V. Vertical Envelopment

The Approving Mentor

The Little One Returns from Florida--and gets a surprise! -- by Buster

2011-01-29T18:19:00.011-05:00

So little Diva-Showgirl Gracie, accompanied by her crazed tiger-mom impressario, came back from the tropics! She told tales of strutting her stuff in the ring, paparazzi, and lazy evenings sipping mimosas and fending off gentleman-callers. Plainly, she deserved what she got!

And what did she get?

Morning came, and Her Petite Eminence trotted out to perform her morning ritual. This is what she saw!

Yes, folks--that's the back yard. Now Her Nibs is not especially tiny for a Kerry Blue, and it troubled her that she could not see the beach. Nor the mimosas. Nor the gentleman callers. Nor the horizon--period.

The Gods of Vengeance were extracting their due! Little Miss Blanche DuBois puttered from the front step to the garage. What was once a walkway had become a Stygian tunnel. Note the snowbank on the left...

She demanded to be taken away. Far away. "South," she said. The humans dryly noted that, while the driveway had been shoveled, the streets were impassable. I told her not to worry. Bailey and I would be great company during her confinement over the next few days.

I posed beside my favorite glacier on the back deck. Do I not look like something out of Jack London's bourbon-fueled imagination?

Miss Bailey was having some issues with the new era of limits. She thought she could bark at the snow and it would melt. Nice try.

Gracie decided to launch a reconnaissance of the back deck, convinced that somehow, there would be a patch of sunny beach and palm trees somewhere. She sank into despair. I smiled warmly at her.

As the sun set upon the tundra, Miss Blanche posed in the shadow of the advancing ice, blathering something about always relying on the kindness of strangers...and would some stranger not take her far away from New England?

Gracie will have lots to report about her trip to the Confederacy. In the meantime, Bailey and I are enjoying this.

Your buddy,

Buster of the Yukon

Gracie Visits Tara, and all we get are these Lousy Icicles! --by Bailey

2011-01-16T16:25:00.017-05:00

Ms. Bailey Blue, Preeminent Diva, at your service today, with a report from the Gulag.

It seems that the Anointed One, little Ms. Cutesy-Brown-Eyes, has departed in the company of her Mom for the Great American South. The Confederacy. The place where they talk funny.

The reason? you ask. Mais naturellement, she is to be entered in the Miss Canine America contest!

We've been listening to her incessant practice..."Ah believe in world peace..." She struts, she winks knowingly, she exudes a schadenfreude-laced innocence that can be deadly.

And yes! She is heading South--with her Evil Human--toward the Land of Sun and Mint Julips and Cotillions! Bourbon on the veranda! Gentleman-callers and military schools!

And I--Bailey--like Ishmael, am left behind. Well, not exactly alone...

Bozo-Beard has been summarily exiled with me. What company! Dad offered to take us to Walmart as a special treat!

And while Little Miss Scarlet basks in the tropics with her Mommy and all her gentleman-callers, what do we get?

Advancing glaciers, ominous ice-daggers, aggressive polar-bears, and even more aggressive Red Sox fans! It's enough to scare even a Kerry Blue Terrier!

Occasionally, a giant icicle will fall from the house and impale an unsuspecting pedestrian.

I stand guard, looking for rapacious, hungry creatures, gliding across the ice as the dim sun hugs the horizon...

My dull-witted but easily-amused companion contemplates his green idol. Sometimes he reminds me of Queequeg!

After hours of incessant whining from the Bozo-Beast, I condescend to teach him a few lessons in the proper manipulation of the Sacred Yellow Orb.

But alas, he MISSES HIS MOMMY ! What a wimp! But we know who is the weaker sex. I allow him his hour of weakness.

Buster unleashes a therapeutic howl of mourning.

I reassure him that his Mommy and the little Rebel Turncoat will return from the South-Land before the week's out--with tales of sorority parties and frozen daiquiris beneath moss-covered trees, barbecues and hush-puppies, she-crab soup, and the joys of boo-ing the New York Yankees.

Your faithful correspondent,

Bailey Blue

My Life in the Yukon--by Gracie

2011-01-12T16:20:00.017-05:00

Mom was reading The Call of the Wild to me last night, and as luck would have it, we were visited by a real blizzard! It was time to get in touch with my Inner Carnivore.

Here's what greeted Uncle Buster and me Wednesday morning when we left in search of a caribou to eat:

Yikes! I'd never seen snow this deep! Uncle Buster reassured me that caribou can't travel very fast in deep snow and life was good...

The noble, predatory Alpha-wolf posed for a photo-op beside a glacier...

The tundra was littered with Chrysler carcasses. Uncle Buster told me about Mr. Darwin's great idea...the one about survival of the fittest. Uncle Buster recounted that the weakest critters had to be left behind so that the herd might live. We decided not to disembowel it and proceeded onward...

We came upon an Inuit dwelling. Uncle Buster told me that these nomadic creatures lived on seal meat and lived in large ice houses. I thought the gate was a nice touch...

It was time for my howling lesson. As Uncle Buster watched, I meditated and achieved a complete state of Wolf-Mindedness...

The howl curdled the blood of a nearby moose, causing it to faint and trigger an avalanche.

The glacier grew more treacherous...

I struggled to keep my footing.

Uncle Buster demonstrated the optimal "caribou-stalking" posture. He says that it's all in the attitude. One must look hungry, mean, lean, and stealthy!

And thus it came to pass that I decided that Uncle Buster had been Alpha-Wolf long enough!

I would challenge him in the deadliest of all lupine blood-sports: Buster-Ball in the Snow !

I had the chance to become Alpha, but in the end, I decided to give Uncle Buster back his precious ball.

In the meantime, Ms. Bailey appeared strolling leisurely down a crevasse in her Sunday-best, as though she were going to attend the premiere performance of Tosca.

The tufted titmice came to the window of the Inuit dwelling...

Uncle Buster and I struck camp, lit a fire, and curled up.

Life in the Yukon is certainly brutal.

More to report soon!

Your faithful correspondent,

Gracie

A Brief Tutorial on the Proper Harassment and Vexing of the Male Human Lackey after a Long Day at Work--by the Abominable SnowBuster

2011-01-07T21:40:00.009-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Abominable SnowBuster has decided to honor his audience with a return engagement. Yes, folks, there is drama here!

Now it happened that Friday Evening, the Heavens unleashed enough snow to drive a Dire Wolf to extinction!

Wooly mammoths foraged along the Interstate. Giant Ground Sloths retreated to their dens.

We intercept the male human lackey on his way home from a long day at the office...

He's tired. His senses dulled. The brake lights ahead become a blur and he does not even notice that a sabre-tooth cat has decapitated a Toyota on the shoulder of the highway.

As he arrives home, the warm, symmetrical Cone-heads beckon. In a moment he will be...

Mercilessly lambasted by a crazed SnowBuster !!

The stealthy, graceful Creature of the Pleistocene demonstrates his All-Terrain capability!

Properly terrorized, the male human lackey panics and retreats.

But no ! The devious Proto-Neanderthal resorts to subterfuge...

Not... THE NEFARIOUS SNOW-FARTER !!!

Dang !!! What a horrid species. No sense of fair play!

The Abominable SnowBuster returns to his lair to lick his wounds. Snow-Farter will die!

Your faithful correspondent,

Buster

(of the Clan of the Cave-Buster)

The Abominable Snow-Buster Confronts his Innate Color-Blindness while Pursuing a Yellow Orb in a White Field

2011-01-06T22:04:00.004-05:00

SNOW!
just let it SNOW!
&
SNOW some more!

I'm waiting!
After all, I, theBUSTER , am the Abominable Snow-Dog.
The one,
The only... Wilson-chasing...
Snow Dog!

Notice the frozen beard-hairs.
I was looking for some lost Wilsons before the snow-blower
shoots them into the sky...

To get back to "me" (it's all about ME....!)
Pretty soon, the rest of me will be as white as the snow.
Snow will be arriving on Friday, fur sure. WhoooOOOooo

See, this is my "Snow House"...it's got icicles hanging
over the door.... and I bet my Wilsons are stuck
somewhere in that snowdrift!

Come to think of it, I seem to be missing many, many Wilsons!
Each year, I have to launch a Search-and-Rescue operation...

I laugh at the cold...
After all Abominable Snow Dogs are a tough breed.

Here I am... checking out the snowdrifts...
and various other things...
Here, Wilson... yoooou whoooo... Wilson?
uh, Wilson, where are you?????

PSSSST!
I heard more snow is coming my way FRIDAY...
Did I already say that?
We Abominable SnowBusters have limited RAM...

I am just so
excited to hear this...
more white stuff!
WhOOOOoooooooO!

Cancel the schools, cancel the STATE!..
I see a flake....... uh... no smart remarks puleeeze.

Your most reliable Abominable Snow-Buster,
signing off for now.

B

Gracie's First Christmas: A True Story, by Buster

2010-12-31T17:02:00.001-05:00

Buster here--on the cusp of the little one's first New Year. Ain't she cute? Christmas kinda left her transfixed!

On Christmas Eve, Bailey and Gracie donned their elfin long-johns and settled in for a long Winter's nap.

Visions of sugarplums--or worse (chipmunks?)!

Despite the rotten state of the global economy, Santa made it south from the rapidly-depleting ice-shelf, and he was generous.

Bailey and Gracie shared lots of girl-talk (a language that I cannot comprehend!) and generally bounced around like lunatics.

The kid certainly knows how to strut her stuff!

She donned the white whiskers of a Subordinate Claus!

The Blizzard commenced...slowly at first...and much mayhem ensued.

I, Buster the Senior Snowbeast, assumed my customary Mastodon Wannabe posture.

And the white stuff came!

More to report soon,

Your buddy,

Buster

Dancing with the Kerries--and Christmas!

2010-12-24T13:25:00.014-05:00

Blog Buddies-- It's your friend Gracie back again. I've been here with Buster and Bailey for four and a half months now, and I've NEVER seen anything like this! This big tree just kinda plopped itself in the corner of the living room, and there's stuff glowing... The folks are talking in whispers, and Uncle Buster keeps giving me that "Kid, you'll see!" look. Ms. Bailey is running around half-crazed.

Mom has dressed me up in this silly elf-collar...what's an "elf?" ... Ms. Bailey is decked out in red, sporting her prominent gray beard. Keeps blathering about "subordinate clauses." I really think she has a dangling participle somewhere.

Monsieur l'Ecureuil lunatique keeps diving into the bird-feeder, performing acrobatics. Uncle Buster says that the passing of the Winter Solstice (what's that?) makes people and animals downright weird.

I occupy myself by chewing on my favorite stick in the back yard. Then Ms. Bailey says, "So you think you can dance?"

I think I can!

Meanwhile, Wendy Woodpecker is creating all kinds of commotion outside, and the humans keep whispering about "sandy claws." I promised them I'd stop digging up the septic tank!

Uncle Buster just grins and and looks at me in his avuncular fashion. As if to say that HE knows something that I don't!

I'll let you know what happens! I think it's one of those April-Fool things, but in December.

Buster keeps muttering, "Lucia's back! Lucia's back!" The dog is obviously twitterpated (that's a Bailey word...I'm not sure what it means, but it seems to fit).

More later,

Your friend,

Gracie

My Magic Blue Kerry Keltic Swirly Thing--by Gracie

2010-12-19T22:03:00.001-05:00

Okay, folks--Here it is !!! The most sacred object in all Kerrydom! The object of my personal affection, the quintessence of all that is magical in those misty, ancestral isles which nurtured my breed.

You say it looks, well, "unimpressive?" With the appropriate Druidic incantations and the application of sharp, canine incisors, this object will transport one into realms undreamt! My humans call it, "the Magic Blue Kerry Keltic Swirly Thing."

Observe!

Ah, Bliss !

I have communed with the spirits of my Ancestors. The Tuatha Dé Danann are among us, and Sulis, the Mother-Goddess and Arch-Kerry gives her blessing to my pack! Life is good.

Nollaig faoi shéan is faoi shonas duit,

Gracie

The Arch-Puppy

Team Cerberus Prepares for the Irish Barroom Brawl World Cup

2010-12-15T20:32:00.009-05:00

Gracie here. Uncle Buster and Ms. Bailey have given me the honor of admission to this year's team as we enter the coveted IBBWC competition. We shall represent the People's Republic of Southern Central Connecticut, Irish Brigade!

Rigorous training is necessary. Uncle Buster tells me that a World-Class Irish Barroom Brawler must push the edge of Chaos. It is essential to convince one's opponent that it is definitely not in his interest to enter the ring.

Here's our first practice in the Simulated Barroom in the basement:

I'm working on my Chaos-inducing techniques. Do you think I have what it takes?

Your friend,

Gracie

The Eight-fold Path to Mastery: the Zen of Chewing -- by Gracie

2010-12-11T12:21:00.007-05:00

Uncle Buster, the Master of Wilson-Consciousness, has succeeded in training me to be "in the moment." This stage of my training requires complete concentration on the Yellow Orb.

First, there is the preparation--of both Orb and Chewer. Perfection cannot be achieved unless adequate attention is devoted to this first, important step!

The appropriate incantations must be uttered, and Oneness achieved with the Spirit of the Orb.

Then the exercise begins!

Uncle Buster tells me that it is critical to commence gently, inviting the Spirit of the Orb to participate in the meditation. Almost like a puppy playing with a tennis ball...

Then the Transformation begins. The Gods of Mastication are invited into the ashram, and a state of total Orb-Mindedness is achieved!

Impressive, huh?

Uncle Buster has promised me that the next part of my training will include the art of expelling Squirrel-Demons from the Bird-Shrine! I am looking forward to it.

Your faithful correspondent,

Gracie
Zen Novice

My Unexpected Discovery -- by Buster

2010-12-08T15:28:00.002-05:00

Last night, I went for my usual walk with my male human servant. Guess what I found?

I thought this was so cool! I desperately wanted to autograph the sled so that everyone would know it's mine, but my ill-mannered manservant restrained me.

Next time...just wait!

Your buddy,

Buster

Zen and the Art of Wilson: My Apprenticeship with the Master-- by Gracie

2010-11-29T16:36:00.000-05:00

Today, Uncle Buster began my training as a Zen Master of Wilson-Consciousness! It was an incredible honor!

The monastic life and the rigorous demands of this training are not for everyone. It took Uncle Buster seven years to reach the Third Degree! But he assured me that the results are well worth all the effort.

This afternoon, I mastered the technique of "Parry and Encirclement." Do you think I show promise?

Best wishes,

Gracie, Apprentice to Master Buster

Running Like the Wind; or, "Thanksgiving with Zoe"

2010-11-26T15:57:00.002-05:00

Hey, kids--it's Gracie the Frequent-Flyer. Yesterday, we celebrated that strange American holiday called "Thanksgiving" by going to the People's Republic of Rhode Island (and Providence Plantations!) to force-feed ourselves with a singularly odd bird of the genus Meleagris (Mom calls it a "turn-key" -- or something like that) and to visit my cousin Zoe.

Here are Zoe and I. She wears her schnauzerhood well, don't'cha think?

There were piles of leaves to roll in...

Squirrels to watch...

And games to play! I really like "Pounce and Slither!"

Best of all, we got to run like the wind!

More to report soon--

Your buddy,

Gracie

The Continuing Adventures of Sir Buster vs. the Evil Leaf-Dragon--Episode 86

2010-11-20T18:53:00.009-05:00

And then Sir Buster did lift up the tomb, and there came out an horrible and a fiendly dragon, spitting fire out of his mouth. Then Sir Buster drew his sword and fought with the dragon long, and at the last with great pain Sir Buster slew that dragon.

Yes, folks--it's that time of year again! Sir Buster of the Active Inner Life here, reporting upon my latest meditation on Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur. Mom reads Harry Potter, but I slay conjugations in Middle-French!

But really--A Plague has come upon the Land, and I, Sir Buster of the Too-Vivid Imagination, have responded to the call of my Beloved Guinnevere (a soft-coated wheaten terrier with lovely golden locks). Yea, forsooth, the Evil Leaf-Dragon has descended upon my realm, and I must take arms to protect my Lady and my Domain! Fie! The accursèd, churlish knave--I shall smite it!

Observe!

Lay on, McDragon, and cursèd be he who first cries, "hold!" "Enough!" Oops, wrong epic--but you get the idea...

I think I showed him a thing or two!

Maybe Mom will give me a liver treat for saving the world! Being a hero is really hard work, you know.

Gotta get ready for the next episode in my imagination. I hear that Banquo's Ghost is stalking the halls and Lady McBailey is wandering around howling, "Will these paws n'ere be clean?"

TTFN,

Your buddy,

Sir Buster the Leaf-Dragon Slayer

Gracie vs. L'il Toot: Tugboat Wars

2010-11-18T22:32:00.010-05:00

Okay--so I was bored!!

Ms. Bailey came to the rescue. She said, "I'll teach you a trade!"

"What's a trade?" I asked. Do you need an agent for that?

"No, Silly!" She replied.

"I'm going to give you PROFESSIONAL tugging lessons."

Well, here's what I learned from The Master:

"L'il Toot," the Tugboat of the Inland Sea of New Hampshire!

The thing about Ms. Bailey is, SHE DOESN'T LET GO!

Ever!

That took a lot out of me!

Guess I'm just going to have to rest for awhile
and set my razor-sharp little mind to the question
of HOW TO BEAT HER!

Maybe tomorrow...

Your friend,

Gracie

Gnashing Lessons from Ms. Bailey

2010-11-11T22:05:00.006-05:00

Today, Ms. Bailey agreed to tutor me in the fine art of gnashing!

She says that the importance of this skill cannot be underestimated. When a terrier wishes to make a good impression, she gnashes. When a terrier wishes to make a bad impression, she gnashes. In fact, whenever a terrier wishes to do just about anything, a solid display of gnashing will usually get it done!

Yes--Ms. Bailey assures me that gnashing is one of those all-around, useful skills that I need to master. Like ear-piercing barking and running the other way when called.

So here's my very first lesson!

What do you think? Do I have potential?

Your buddy,

Gracie

My Very First Snow--by Gracie

2010-11-08T20:13:00.007-05:00

Hey--it's Gracie here, with really cool happenings! Guess what I woke up to this morning?

This is what it looked like:

My Uncle Buster told me that this stuff is called "snow." I'd never seen such a thing in my entire (short) life! It was, well, wet! And white!

It left everything coated in a soft, icy whiteness. Kinda creepy. Dad's PT Cruiser grew a pale moustache!

The front garden, newly-frosted, was nevertheless still green. The white stuff made it look weird!

I thought I would putter about! It was time for exploration!

I'll have more to report later; I just have to explore first. I wonder if they have this stuff in places like Australia...

Your friend,

Gracie

Sir Buster Reaches the Summit

2010-11-01T14:15:00.001-04:00

Hey, friends--Buster here, with a report of my recent travels!

Sunday, to celebrate the build-up to Halloween, my manservant and I climbed our local mountain. It's exactly 1,024 feet (313 meters) high, but to someone of my stature, it's Everest.

The first part was easy--we drove down the street in the trusty PT Cruiser!

Then I engaged my Sherpa guide to carry my dog-biscuits.

At length, we arrived at the summit!

My faithful Sherpa took my picture as I planted the flag of County Kerry at the roof of the world.

Oh...you noticed that someone had preceded us? I wonder what gave that away!

At any rate, the view was formidable! We could see our house--sort of--actually, you'd have to look through the canopy of orange maples! I autographed the castle just to claim ownership, and we hiked home!

Happy Halloween,

Buster

M' Moves--by Gracie

2010-10-30T20:05:00.001-04:00

Uncle Buster tells me that developing the right moves is the key to success as a Kerry Blue.

There are, he says, lots of different kinds of moves--such as the Pirouette/Gnashing Routine!

And the Sither-In-From-the-Rear manoeuvre...

Some moves defy description due to their complexity...

Uncle Buster advises me that showing lots of white Ivory is the essence of good form!

Sometimes a free-throw from Standoff-Position is the best strategy!

Let me demonstrate some of my moves, with the assistance of my Pack-mates:

Now, these are plainly INDOOR moves. Outside, it's a whole, well, different ball-game!

Buster and I will demonstrate, with the assistance of Coach Wilson.

As you might imagine, I have to retire now to get my required allocation of Stage IV and REM sleep. This training routine is so demanding!

Your buddy,

Gracie

My Baby-Teeth; by Gracie

2010-10-09T20:10:00.001-04:00

I'm losing my baby teeth!

Incrementally, bit by bit, they're falling out!

I don't know why this would happen...

It's not that I'm particularly rough on them!

But most of the time, I just find something in my mouth...

And I'm compelled to chew it.

And chew it again!

Every so often, I take a break...

And observe the Master at work!

Uncle Buster is an example to us all.

Inspired, I once again commence my practice!

Seeking a perfect state of meditative Carnivore-Mindfulness...

I reflect upon the generations of Kerry Blue Terriers who pioneered the technique!

The discipline is hard, but the rewards are great.

Some day, they will tell stories about Gracie the Zen Master of Mastication.

In the meantime, I submit to a monk-like discipline.

Ever closer to that ideal of the salivary Omega-Point!

Uncle Buster tells me that I have great potential but I must concentrate harder.

So I submit to you this brief audition tape of some of my recent work!

What do you think?

Do I have a spark of talent?

Your friend,

Gracie

The Wolfpack at Home

2010-09-29T20:27:00.013-04:00

Hey, friends--what do you think of my fourteen-inch tongue? It's usually outside of its house. Cool, huh?

I, Gracie, avec la langue étonnante, am compelled to introduce you to my very best buddies--my fellow delinquents:

In this corner, we have Bailey the Silent. She NEVER lets us know how she feels.

Then there's Buster the Compulsive Workaholic. You'll never catch him relaxing.

And of course, there's me. It's all about ME. ME. Don'tcha think my long legs are gorgeous?

My Uncle Buster says, if I'm really lucky, I'll turn out just like him!

I'm quickly learning the certified Buster technique for eviscerating my toys! Uncle Buster says that when I lose my baby teeth, I'll be able to do some real damage!

Now, let's preview some action-footage. Bailey tells me that my attention span is even shorter than Buster's. So here's what happens when somebody tries to watch TV:

I'm working on fine-tuning my skills in chaos incubation even more. Buster says it takes patience.

Here's a final look at a practice session in close-in tooth-work:

Mom thinks I have lots of potential. Dad's re-seeded the back yard five times already, and I'm helping Uncle Buster dig up the septic tank so that we can go visit Noah.

I love my work!

Your friend,

Gracie