Id is almost Sistah Beffy's Birfday!
She will be twenty-sebben yeers owd. Dis is not owd for a hoomin (Maman is fifty, an her mawmie is atey-for, which is owd!), bud I nebber herd obba rabbit who is dat owd. Hunny issa owdest bunny I know an he is twelbe. Poet issa nextest owdest an she is elebben. I am nine. I will be ten onna Forf ob Jooly, which is when ebberybunny else will also go uppa yeer.
Da rezon dat alla us togedder habba same birfday is cossa da Ancient Dawg.
Nowda Ancient Dawg has gone toda Bridge, bud I bemember him. He usta be eighteen, which is berry owd fora dawg.
His name was "Tristan" an he wassa long, low dawg wif bwack an white spots. Maman sed he was mainwy a Basset Houn' - "Two Dawgs Wong an Half a Dawg High".
Dis is troo. I hextplored him, an yes, he wassa berry wong dawg when he was lyin on his bwankie (which was most obba time, when I knew him). He wuz almost fibe hops wong! An dat is fibe ob my hops, an I am nodda small bunny.
Maman's Dadda cawled Tristan, "Maxymillian Van Snort" cos Tristan usta sneeze a wot. An cos he wuz low toda ground, he usta bang his hed onna fwoor when he sneezed. Id nebber seemed to bover him dat he banged his hed. Dis is cos his hed was fulla "concreet", Maman sed, wike most bassets - cos once dey gedda idea in dere heds, she says, it geds stuck dere, wike it's set in concreet. Bud I know howta change a basset mind. Heatherington taught me. Bud you godda be brabe to doit.
Most ob Tristan's ideas settled round food. He wiked treets - enny treets, kloodin bunny treets.
I mean, whut can you do wiffa dawg dat eats carrots? An appils? An gwapes? An raisins?
Maman wuld pud downna raisins for Hunny, Heatherington, Maggie an me an we'd be siddin dere, each habbin sum, powite-wike, wike rabbits do, an den we'd heer da raddle obba chain, an heer comes Tristan. You'd know it wuz him, cos his nose comed innu da room bifore da rest obba dawg made it fru da door.
So heer comed dis nose an da nose wuld shub fru alla bunnies an suddenly, dere wuld be no tweats.
Just wike dat, dey wuz all gone. Now you see dem, now you don. An dere wassa dawg, wiffa back end waggin anna frunt end snufflin.
Well, Hunny was allus too skeert to do ennyfing. He'd hear da chain raddle an he's run forit. Maggie wuld just sit dere, but Heatherington wassa tough widdle Dutch bunny an he'd *thump* when he saw da nose comin thru da doorway.
So Heatherington wuld *thump* an Hunny wuld scatter, an I wuz new back den, so I wuld just sit dere - an heer comes da nose wike a snowplough - and **whomp** dere went alla tweets.
An good ol' Maman's standin dere, goin, "Now Tris, weab da bunnies' tweets awone..."
She's berry e-fek-tib.
So Heatherington got tired ob dis. Da Dutchy-boy lubbed his raisins an hated seein dem dissypeer downna dawg.
So da nextest time datta chain raddled, he wuz reddy. He gotted innu a bwack an white ball, an whenna nose comed barrellin in, he *THUMPED* extry woud. Budda nose kept comin. So he *THUMPED* agin. Budda nose pushed fru Maggie. Hunny scrabulled, an beat feets oudda dere an back innu his habbytat.
An dere was Heatherington, alla wone, wif Maggie wika furry doorstop an me, bouncin upindown, callin Maman, cos I knowed datta dawg is in forit.
Bud it was too wate.
Nestest fing I knowed, dere's da nose an it's godda bunny 'tached to it.
Cos Dutches bite an den dey hang on.
Well. You nebber herd sucha rakit!
Da dawg, Tistan, stawts screamin dat his nose is bit, an Heatherington is yellin fru his teef, "I told you to leeb dose tweets awone!" anna dawg is screamin for Maman an Maman is screamin, "Leeb da bunny awone!" an Maggie's siddin dere wika doorstop an Hunny's runnin in cirkles inna habbytat.
So Maman gwabs da dawg, an he's wong an has godda bunny 'tached toda nose-end, so he's wigglin, an ebberywun is screamin - an Maman pulls offa bunny.
So now da dawg-nose is bweedin an Hetherington is justa ball ob rilly angry bwack an white fur. So he bites Maman.
Now Maman is bweedin.
So in comes da Lad, 'tracted by alla screamin.
An he scoops up Heatherington an puds him back innu his habbytat, an he puds Maggie back. An aldoh I didn't do ennyfing, I godda go back innu my habbytat, too.
Anna dawg goes toda V-E-T an has his nose sowed up.
So afta dat, Tristan didn eat our tweets no more. In fack, he changed.
He didn stop comin inna door nose-furst, bud he'd come in, an den he'd stop an siddown an wook. An Heatherington wuld wook up, an sorta gib a half-hearted *thump* anna dawg wuld wook, an den swing his hed aroun an make sure dat nobun wus comin. An den his eyebrows wuld werk up-an-down, an dis big pink tongue wuld come oud an **slurp** on Heatherington.
Bud he nebber eated our tweeats agin.