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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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