Autumn Truly Arrives...

The languid, sunny days of summer have departed, and we Irish peasant-dogs are settling down for a long, cold period of "fur-coat development!" Buster's working on his precious beard, and we girls are growing that soft, blue-gray winter coiffure.



What happens when the days get short? It's time to huddle inside with good friends...



Nothing like Purple-Raffie (one of precisely three stuffed giraffes of different colors) to provide companionship and solid conversation! Bailey has her treasures.



The sumac is turning bright red outside, and the granite soil of Connecticut provides colors that Claude Monet would envy.




Persephone does the only honorable thing when confronted with frosty weather: it's time to become a couch-potato!



Dad's favorite fishing-spot on the Farmington River is getting some color.



But trout love cold water! Don't worry--it's catch-and-release. This one swam away right after the photo-opportunity.



Buster has a date with Wabbit.



And the Mimosa on campus has turned a bright yellow!

That's all for now!

Sephie & Bailey

Advanced Squeaky-Toy Evisceration Technique (STET 573) by Buster ("Mâchoires de la Mort") the Wonder Dog

STEP ONE:

Transfer residual anxiety about the Boston Red Sox into animal aggression. Select toy for evisceration.



STEP TWO:

Expose incisors and commence chewing. Have mom or dad note time with stopwatch.



STEP THREE:

Begin extracting stuffing. Spit out on floor.



STEP FOUR:

Admire work. Repeat.

Luv,

Buster

Snowball Fight!

Okay, the wet stuff is flying everywhere! In a virtual sort of way.

I think we can blame Ludo and Habca for this. The rules? Just let the dogs (or their unsuspecting humans) you are aiming at know that they've been "hit." You must not hit the ones that already hit you. (Sorry, Caz and Ludo for throwing one back before we knew the rules!).

Let the games begin!

Buster & Persephone

Autumn Cleanup in the Backyard Kerry Blue Theme-Park

Buster makes such a mess!

We girls are assigned to Autumn Cleanup. That means the backyard will get a thorough picking-up and cleaning.



Ah... the ignoble New England Swamp Maple! Scourge of terriers, catalyst of leaf-mold, ideal medium for a wet Kerry-slide on the back lawn.




Stratocirrus clouds high-up: A beautiful autumn day, with the promise of more tomorrow! Pretty soon, the snow will fly, so we've got to get things cleaned up. That boy-dog! You wouldn't believe...




Dad had to re-seed a big section of the back lawn because Bozo just LOVES to kick up the grass, pulling hair-pin turns while playing BusterBall.

Those weave-poles for agility-practice don't help! Buster thinks it's a giant slalom.






Buster's "outdoor" ball-collection! We had to look in the garden, under the deck, under two sheds, and behind the grill. It's amazing how many places he finds to HIDE his toys. Naturally, they're all soaked and full of dirt, so we'll have to help Mom wash them.




Things are looking a little better...but oops...this is the FRONT yard, not the back yard! Okay, so we're back to work...



Project delayed! The back yard is Pandemonium once again...It's BusterBall in the Fall!

'Til next time,

Seffie & Bailey

We're in Trouble Now--Buster Has Stopped Shaving!

Hi, friends--it's Sephie.
My crazed brother Buster has decided he's going to "start training" for Maggie and Mitch's Beard-Growing contest. He's such a pain! Keeps tugging at his beard, trying to make it longer. Why can't he care about something REALLY important? Like the combined works of Jane Austen--or cheeses that go with Chardonnay?

Anyway, he insisted that we take a picture of the Magnum Opus. I know...gray-black dog, metal ruler...you can't see much.


You'd think this was the Olympics. He keeps muttering about that beard-powerhouse, "TEAM AIREDALE." He now has a picture of Confederate General James Longstreet hanging in his crate for inspiration.



Thanks, Maggie & Mitch! I can smell the testosterone! Stay tuned...

Luv,

Sephie

A Terrier's Tongue: The Seat of the Soul

Buster's back at the keyboard! Yup, I booted that evil little Seffie off the computer, and it's mine, mine, mine!

Well, she's right about one thing: Autumn weather brings the need for reflection. Deep thoughts. Philosophy.



Humans spend too much time thinking about things like love, mind/body dualism, the categorical imperative, and death.

I think about my tongue!




Why get up in the morning if you can't kiss somebody?

Anyone who thinks that the most important organ in the body is the brain or the heart just doesn't appreciate the finer things in life. Like licking Bailey's ears, kissing my mom's cheek, or tasting a fresh, raw chicken neck!



I heard a rumor that airedales have tongues so long that they can reach all the way around a room to grab the binkie out of a child's mouth! Could this be true? Enquiring tongues want to know!

That's today's deep thought...

Cheers,

Buster

Persephone Returns to the Underworld...

Well, actually, Seffie has a vivid inner life. Being Demeter's daughter, she's acutely attuned to the change of season. Legend has it that, as a condition of her ransom from Hades' subterranean realm each spring, she must return to the domain of her captor when the flowers fade.



Oh, this is so tedious! What's a girl to do?



The first tell-tale sign is the SMELL of Autumn...



Fallen leaves, mortal things...



The Morning Glories are losing their glory...



Persephone's garden is beginning to fade.



Well, when faced with an inevitable forced-march to the realm of the Dead, one must look one's best! A bath and a pedicure!




Lounging in front of the electric heater does wonders to improve one's mood. And the result is quite extraordinary don't you think? Aren't I pretty?



Okay, let's wander outdoors and have some fresh, eviscerated chipmunk!




I'll dream of the return of the lilies in the spring. It can't be too long...





And my garden will be better than ever!



Ah--I think it's time for a nap!

Thanks, Putter!

Hey, guess what?

We got this COOL award from Putter, the SuperNanny Airedale!



Putter got it from Ludo and Caz in Germany. We'll proudly display it on our blog!

Since it's such a cool award, it seems like the fitting thing is to pass it on to another awesome blogger-dog in the land of Philosophers and good beer! Congratulations, Habca and Miriam!

Well, we had to put the cottage on the Pond to bed for the winter... It was kind of sad--Dad and our brother Andy took the dock out, and everything is secure for the long, New Hampshire winter!



Andy gave Alvin the Chipmunk a month's supply of cereal, which he promptly put in his little cheeks and carried off to his home.



Everything's ready for our return next spring!



Cheers,

Seffie & Buster

Buster's Awesome Dog Show Adventure

Ahhh.....This is Buster, and I'm SO SORRY for neglecting my blog buddies! Things have been really busy around here, and my mom has had me out relentlessly campaigning in the dog show scene. Ever see "BEST IN SHOW?" The reality is even stranger!




Here it is, folks! The Atlantic City of Dogdom. The Cotillion of Canines. I was practicing my lines..."I just want to work for World Peace..." Then mom reminded me that the judges didn't care about my intellect. Just my teeth. And other parts.



In this case, the venue appeared to have been the gracious Hudson River estate of that late paragon of Capitalist excess, Mr. Jay Gould. May he rest in peace. But his estate--Lyndhurst--was kinda cool. Add a few hundred sheep, and you'd have a terrier paradise.



Here's the routine: You jump up onto the grooming table and snarl at the Bichon Frise next door. This combing and primping takes lots of patience. Yuck! I'd rather be eating a possum.





The idea is to trot gracefully around the ring in front of the judge and try to keep your human from tripping or wandering off. This is hard work.



There are LOTS of different breeds of dog at these events. And if you think the dogs are exotic, you oughta see the people!



There are airedale people...



And kerry blue people. They tend to be a bit clannish and intense. Not like the hound owners, who just sit back dreaming of bass fishing and bourbon.



Some dogs are downright beautiful. I'd like to take her home.




And her, too! Those Aussie lasses are something... Makes ya want to sip warm Foster's lager.




The little bearded guys kept to themselves and guarded their owners like crazed velociraptors with elephantine tongues.



Speaking of tongues, mine kept getting pretty dry! Mom was right there with the spritzer bottle. It was a hot afternoon, and I had to be in good form.




It's funny how many different shapes and sizes of dog there are! You humans all look alike to me, but there are as many varieties of Canis Familiaris as there are fundamental particles in the known universe.




Didn't I see this little guy at the Target store?



I asked this fellow what sort of dog he was. He said, "Massive." He was right, but mom corrected me. What's a "mastiff?"




There were places to buy all sorts of stuff! Grooming scissors! Toys! Hot dogs!



The Sheep-Herding Professionals had that look of goofy merriment. I always wondered what pub they frequented.





There was Jay Gould's Gothic castle, complete with gargoyles and probably a private army of Longbowmen.





Rolling lawns...



An arboretum that would put Her Majesty, Queen Victoria to shame. Dad kept singing the "Internationale." It was so embarrassing.




Just before "going on," pandemonium reigns! Not a hair out of place--and don't drool! Mom's a real pain about "presentation." I wanna play in the mud!




Okay--I think I can do this!




I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.



Wow, ain't I handsome? I wonder if that Aussie chick is watching...



The only problem is, they don't give you, well, USEFUL stuff. Like chicken necks. Or squeaky toys. Or a nice dead skunk. What am I gonna do with these?