Now Revealed: The Muzzle of Mass Destruction

Happy Weekend! Buster at the keyboard with some cool stuff to share, thanks to the humom/archivist/arms-inspector!



As most terrier connoisseurs know, we Kerry Blues were added to the arsenal of Irish nationalists/drunken poets during the early Twentieth Century, mainly 'cuz we're pretty good at tearing things apart!



We particularly like cows--I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because they're gentle, peaceful animals, and we're not.

Mom got me a cool blanket with the Official Colors of Clan Buster!

Don't you think it looks a lot better with the holes?


We herd everything: sheep, pheasants, blue octopi--prior to destroying them. Mom says it's like watching an experienced surgeon at work!

I feel so good when I do my job well! Mom says that proper attitude is everything, and I like to take my time to make sure that the annihilation is complete.

This belly-baby was one of my first attempts at using "smart-weapons" (in this case, two incisors and two canines!). Note the precision of the disembowelment.

Now I've gotta confess that "Sawtooth Sephie" was ahead of me in mass-destruction school for a long time. They say that boys are a little delayed, but once they catch up, they tend to excel! Sephie was legendary: she took out a wall, a linoleum floor, and a metal stove when she was fifteen months old!


Oh--PIGS! Yes, we Kerries have sworn a sacred oath to the Celtic Mother-Goddess to rid the earth of swine! Nothing personal.


Mom tells me that I'm kinda cute when I'm ripping her favorite pillow apart. She says that's the only reason she doesn't pull the stuffing out of me.

Do any of you blogbuddies have a "Raffie?" Mom gave us three of them--one for me, one for Sephie, and one for Bailey! Purple, blue, and orange (not shown in this catalog). Well, I noticed that giraffes have awfully peculiar ears, so I decided that they had to go! Quite an improvement, don't 'cha think?

Mom likes people and animals that can hold up their end of the conversation! It helps to have jaws that go all the way back to one's ears--great for skinning a wolverine or arguing about the Presidential elections!


Sometimes I get a little carried-away...

But my most precious possessions I treat with tender, loving care--like my mom and "my cat" (still possessed of the first of its nine lives, above). My cat is my best buddy, and I carry him everywhere--especially outside in the rain!


Once, Dad decided to play BusterBall with me without the prescribed, regulation #2 yellow Wilson tennis ball. He said the blue, inflatable rubber ball looked soft and supple. He was right.


Once upon a time, the family estate at Cheshire-Upon-Quinnipiac was terrorized by an invading army of chipmunks. They came by night in their longboats, pillaging, looting, and subjecting the countryside to unspeakable horrors. Legend recounts that the Marquess Buster the Ingenious of Puddleston St Droop responded to the cries of the Innocent and vanquished the Evil-Doers in three days! They left in their longboats and were not seen again.


Another one of my sacred responsibilities is upholding certain standards of good taste within the household. Mom got this horrid comforter/blanket that looked like an old leisure-suit. Ugh, I said. In two minutes, it looked like a colander.

When Mom gets mad, I open my brown eyes really wide and look straight at her. She melts!


Then I go chew the eyeballs off a horse.


I tell you, my work means a lot to me! We Kerry Blues have certain professional standards, and a half-hearted work of destruction is not something with which we want to be associated!

I hear that the airedales take similar care. Can't wait to hear stories!

Cheers,

Buster