They Eat This Stuff?

My human's been working a lot lately, which means he's had less time to serve as a lumpy pillow for me to lay on. He also hasn't been around much for me to play keep-away with.

That means my human's mate has been busier around the house. That means things sometimes get missed. Like closing the pantry door, lucky for me.

When my human or his family leave the pantry door open, I feel like I've hit the mother lode. Sometimes, I'll find some yummy bread to eat, or a potato to gnaw on. Once, my human left some chocolate with some white stuff in it on his desk where I could  get to it. Man, was that tasty! I wish he'd do that again.

Today, though, was payback. The pantry door was left open all day, and me with the house to myself. Being a beagle, of course I had to check it out. Inquiring minds, you know.

Well, I found a box full of packets of stuff that looked like something I could sink my teeth into. So I tore into a packet, and it spilled out onto the floor. So I tried again. And again. After tearing into a bunch of packets and having them all spill out like sand, I gave up. It wasn't worth the effort. [EDITOR'S NOTE: For the record, it was seven or eight packets of instant oatmeal.]

I don't know what my humans see in this stuff. You can't chew it. And even when you can eat some of it, you end up being thirsty because you've just eaten sand or something like it. Give me something with crunch to it any day of the week.

All that effort for no return, I think I'll take a nap.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

What Were They Thinking?

It was nice and sunny yesterday, a great day for a walk. I needed to get outside, I was restless, and I was hoping my human or his mate would take the hint.

But humans can be a little, shall we say, clueless sometimes. So, instead of taking me out for a nice walk in the sunshine, they stayed inside. On a sunny day! What were they thinking?

I don't know why, but there are some days when I'm here all by myself, and some days when they are all here. Yesterday was one of those days where they didn't all leave me.

My human did leave the house for awhile, which made me sad. But my human's mate and his son stayed home. I was hopeful I might yet get my walk, but the son spent most of the day with a book, and the mate spent most of the day at the kitchen table. And she wasn't eating.

That was very unusual. She never does that. Instead of eating, she sat there with a bunch of papers and that rectangle lighted thing with that awful click-click sound. After my human came home, the mate asked him if he would help with the tack sez.

I don't know what tack sez means. All I know is that they wouldn't play with me or pet me or anything because of the stupid tack sez. I don't understand. I could tell they weren't having any fun.

Why did they choose the tack sez instead of me? I am sad. I think maybe they are too. We would all have been happier, I think, if they'd taken me for a walk instead.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

How Low Can You Get?

Recently my human's mate made some changes around the house, and I'm not happy about them at all. In fact, I'm bite the mailman mad. How can I get the rest I need to adequately protect the place when they're gone when my bed has been moved off the love seat to the FLOOR?!?

Is this how you treat a member of the family? I'm being treated like a dirty dog. I tried to show my displeasure by pretending I was asleep on the sofa and refusing to get off when she yelled at me to get down. Now there's this big black thing on the sofa, and there's no room for me to get up there. What's a beagle to do?

As if that isn't bad enough, tonight my human's mate and their son both forgot to feed me. I had to wait for my human to finally get home from work. Boy, was I glad to see him, not least of all because it meant I could finally eat. Still, I had to voice my displeasure. So I gave him an earful. I really did. I think he got the point.

You better believe I'll find a way to pay them back for disrespecting me. Maybe I'll throw up on the carpet again. I love doing that to her, especially when my human's gone. That way she has to clean it up. Then he'll get an earful from her next time when he gets home. That'll show them both who's boss.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

On The Job

Just came in a little while ago from making my security patrol around the perimeter of the back yard. While I was making my rounds, my human - I almost slipped and said the "m" word ("master" for those of you not well versed in human-canine relations) - stood at the sliding glass door, waiting I suppose for me to finish my rounds.

Seeing him standing there put extra pressure on me to hurry, but some things cannot be rushed. My human's son knows how that is. Sometimes, it takes him ten or more trips to clear the table after dinner. And does he ever drop a few crumbs for me? No! But I digress.

Securing the perimeter of our back yard is a time-consuming job. I have to check each blade of grass, sniff each clump of dirt to make sure no unwanted intruders have gotten in. Sometimes, the wind changes, which means I have to go back over some spots in case I missed anything. Occasionally, I also have to lift my leg, if you know what I mean.

Now this is not merely performance of a bodily function. No, this is part of the patrol process. It serves to mark a particular area as secure, at least until the next patrol. Occasionally, I have to chase off intruders - cats, squirrels, and the like. I suspect my humans think I'm too slow to catch any of these intruders, but I don't really want to catch. I mean, who really wants a mouthful of cat? I sure don't. Yuck! There's not enough toilet water in the world to wash out that taste.

Well, the next patrol will be coming up pretty soon, so I'd better get some rest.

Bark. Bark. Woof.

It's a Dog's Life

Here within these virtual pages, I will use my human to relate to those of you not fortunate enough to be a dog, what a dog's life is really like. Occasionally, I will share bits of canine wisdom I have gained and perhaps pose philosophical and other questions.

First, though, an introduction. My name is Oliver, and I am a six-year old, tri-color, purebred Beagle. I am a member of hound royalty, but I do not expect you to bow before me. No, seriously. Get up, you're embarrassing yourself and me.

My humans are a pretty good group, as humans go. They feed me, they let me sleep, and they occasionally let me play keep away with a tennis ball.

I think that will do for a start. This blogging stuff is hard, and I need to get some rest. I'll leave with a question that has bothered me for several months now. Humans teach us dogs how to "shake hands" with them and learn their form of greeting. Why won't they let us teach them to sniff each other's butts so they can learn ours?

Bark. Bark. Howl.