Italian Dream

Reuben stirred in his sleep, his little paws twitching ever so slightly as a soft smile tugged at the corners of his face. In his dream, he was no longer curled up in the corner of a cafe in New York—he was gliding through the charming alleys in a small Italian village, the wind tugging gently at his ears.

They rode in a little blue scooter, naturally, with Reuben in the driver’s seat and Dougie tucked in a sidecar outfitted with cushions and a bell. They zipped through cobbled villages where old women waved from balconies and tossed them grapes. At a quiet vineyard, Dougie discovered a fondness for chilled lemonade, while Reuben happily nibbled at fresh focaccia under a fig tree. The pair marveled at crumbling ruins and sun-drenched piazzas, where Reuben insisted they pause for every espresso and every single scoop of gelato—“for research,” he claimed.

One night, they ended up in Venice, drifting in a gondola under a sky speckled with stars. Dougie hummed softly while Reuben leaned against him, watching reflections ripple in the water like soft memories. They spoke of time, of friendship, of the perfect cheese, and of never rushing through beautiful places or beautiful moments. When Reuben awoke back in his real bed—his travel dream fading like mist—he found a crumb of biscotti tucked under his whiskers and the unmistakable scent of lavender and lemon on the breeze.

Determined, he wanted to make dreams like this more of a reality.

Camping Trip

Dis weekend, on the first ob summer ebening, the boys packed up their tiny satchels wiff snacks, maps, and extra socks (eben though none ob them wore socks) and headed off on a grand camping adbenture.

They set up their campsite deep in the forest with cozy tents shaped like s’mores and soft glamping teepees with pom-pom trim. Baxter popped his head out of his cookie tent, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Tonight, we roast marshmallows!” he declared.

Barry fluffed his sleeping mat wiff extra care. “Let’s not forget the chocolate. It’s not a s’more without it!” he said, holding up his perfectly stacked graham cracker supply.

Reuben, eber the practical one, built a felt campfire wiff just the right amount of glow. “We’ll take shifts watching for bears,” he said solemnly, nibbling a marshmallow just to test its freshness.

As night fell, they gathered around the “fire,” roasting marshmallows on tiny sticks. The s’mores were gooey perfection, and they giggled with delight between bites.

Suddenly, a twig snapped in the distance. All three froze. Baxter held his s’more mid-air. Barry slowly peeked out ob his tent. Reuben whispered, “Did you hear that?”

They dove into action—Reuben doused the pretend fire wiff water, Barry zipped the snack bag shut, and Baxter squeaked out the password: “CheddarCheddarCheddar!”

It was just a curious squirrel.

Relieved, they snuggled back into their tents. Baxter whispered, “Next time, let’s camp in the living room.” But deep down, they all agreed: nothing beats the thrill of the wild.

Except maybe the s’mores.

Fank you Ratty Box for the fun adbenture!


Common Problem

Fish

I was finking maybe I could lib in a beautiful tank among the other Fish, but I can’t hold my breaff that long.

Teddy

Sometimes I get a little nerbous, and Teddy is a calming influence on me. Do you hab a teddy? You can borrow mine if you want, but just for a minit, ok?

When times are bad….

Bakers

I turned in my crown today for a cheps hat because we are making a chocolate chip cake! I fink it will turn out yummy.

Press Coberage


THE NEW YORK TIMES
June 9, 2025
Arts & Theater | Broadway

‘Baxter Wiff a B’ Sweeps the Tonys, Winning Hearts and History

By Clara Hastings
Broadway Correspondent

In a night brimming with emotion, charm, and an unexpected rodent-shaped twist, Baxter Wiff a B made Tony Awards history Sunday by sweeping nearly every major category, including Best Musical, Best Direction, Best Choreography, Best Original Score, and the coveted Best Actor in a Musical — awarded to none other than Baxter himself.

The musical, which follows the story of a determined little rat named Baxter and his journey from underground tunnels to Broadway stardom, has captured the imaginations of audiences across the world. With its blend of whimsical storytelling, sharp humor, and moments of heartbreaking sincerity, Baxter Wiff a B has become more than a show — it’s a phenomenon.

The evening reached an emotional peak when Baxter, not wearing his signature crown (it was, after all, not fa Thursday), took the stage to accept Best Actor. Standing atop a velvet-cushioned podium built specially for his stature, he addressed the crowd with quiet dignity.

“Wiffout Waffles,” he began, his voice trembling just slightly, “none ob this would hab been possible.”

The audience, already tearful, erupted in applause. Waffles, Baxter’s beloved brother and the musical’s original director, passed away just weeks ago. His vision guided the production from its earliest workshop to its Broadway debut.

“He saw magic in ebery moment, and he knew how to pull it out ob us — ebery single day,” Baxter continued. “And to all ob my brothers, we did this together… including Fish’s choreogphy, Barry’s stage managering, and Reuben’s ticket sales and public relations.”

The show’s creative team includes an eclectic group — Waffles, known for his sharp eye and signature bowtie, built the original blocking and character arcs; Fish choreographed the complex ensemble numbers that critics have called “a scurry of brilliance”; Barry, ever shy but precise, managed backstage chaos with surprising grace; and Reuben handled both the business end and fan engagement, often seen passing out handmade flyers outside the stage door.

The night also included a surprise live performance of “Baxter Wiff a B (Finale Remix)”, which brought the entire house to its feet. Confetti rained down. Even seasoned Broadway producers were spotted wiping away tears.

Tony voters cited the musical’s fresh originality and emotional resonance. “It reminds you why you fell in love wiff theater in the first place,” said one judge, “and why rats — surprisingly — might be our most relatable heroes.”

As of this morning, ticket demand for Baxter Wiff a B has surged though the show closed a few weeks ago, however a national tour is already in the works. A Broadway cast album is climbing the charts, and streaming services are reportedly in a bidding war for the rights to a filmed version of the show.

But for now, as the lights of Broadway glow a little brighter, one thing is certain: this year belongs to Baxter — wiff a B.

The Winner is….

(That’s right, we were in New Jersey yesterday because we all had to be in New York last night for the Tony awards!)

The Tony’s became something more than a celebration—it became a moment etched in Broadway history, as Baxter took the stage again and again to accept a sweep of honors: Best Actor in a Musical, Best Original Score, and the coveted Best Musical for Baxter Wiff a B.

The audience leapt to its feet as the little star in his custom tux—with a sparkling “B” stitched over the heart—climbed up to the podium, visibly moved, whiskers trembling.

When accepting Best Actor, Baxter beamed:

“I came to this city wiff a song in my heart, crumbs in my pocket, and four brothers beside me. But this—this moment—isn’t mine alone. I share it wiff ebery dreamer who’s eber snuck into a rehearsal room fru a vent and dared to beliebe.”

But it was his final acceptance, for Best Musical, that brought the entire room to a hush.

“This show began wiff a whisper in the back of a café, and the steady hand ob someone who always beliebed in me and my dream.

Waffles… my brother, my director, my heart—is not here in the seat I wish he was tonight. But he is here. In ebery spotlight. Ebery note. Ebery scene. Wiffout his bision, his elegance, his endless encouragement—there is no show. His words ob wisdom will resinate wiff me foreber – to always lead wiff love.

And to all ob my brothers—we did this together. Fish’s choreogaphy made the whole show come alibe, Barry kept everyfing on track as our stage manager (eben wiffout coffee), and Reuben—Reuben handled ticket sales and public relations kept ebery seat filled for ebery last performance. We each had a part in this. This is our story.”

The camera cut to the front row, where Barry dabbed his eyes behind his playbill, Reuben held Fish close, and the three sat together in quiet pride. Backstage, a table of tiny fruit tarts and cheese platters waited, untouched.

It was more than a victory. It was a tribute—a shining, heartfelt curtain call shared between stars: one standing tall in the spotlight, and one forever watching from the wings.

 

New Jersey Bizness

We took a quick Internashunal bizness trip to New Jersey—our berry last state so we are now licensed in all 50 states, but we also wanted to see some sights and soak in some local culture.

Baxter made his way to the beach, but quickly found himself slightly surprised and embarrassed by the warnings. Still, a little sand and sun neber hurt.

Fish was upset about not being home for the usual Sunday pamcake breakfast, so he went looking for a venue to hold an impromptu Secret Order ob the Nocturnal Water Buffalo meeting and ended up in a neighborhood filled wiff signs pointing in every direction—he did find a local Elks club that was willing to make way for the Water Buffalo chapter Elebenty, and Fish was relieved and enjoyed the new surroundings and friends as he ate his pamcakes.

Barry found a more serene moment at Liberty State Park, gazing at the Manhattan skyline and soaking in some inspiration for the next calendar layout. It was a quiet moment, but he still looked proud holding his NJ plate, representing with poise and a touch ob wistfulness.

We’re not quite sure what it is Reuben found, but he enjoyed it.