Report From The Other Side

Hey! It's The Blogging Beagle here once again. Yeah, I know it's been a good long while since I last visited these pages.

Truth be told, there wasn't much to report. Life was pretty comfy and pretty cushy. Camping trips, music with my humans, good chow, and the occasional apple or pear core.

Thinking about cake

Life was pretty comfy. Until it wasn't. The last few weeks (months, probably, if truth be told), I haven't been feeling like my old self. Looking back, that decision to eat a pair of underwear was probably not one of my best.

Even before that, though, I felt myself starting to slow down. The neighbor dog wasn't around to chat with, and I had lost some of my love of howling at other dogs. My back legs were starting to bother me, and walks just weren't as enjoyable.

I tried to stay strong and stick around for my main human, especially after he showed how much he loved me by fixing me some chicken breast when he doesn't even eat meat. Talk about getting the good stuff! But even that held only temporary appeal.

A few days ago, I started trying to tell my human it was time for me to move on to the next adventure. It took a while to get the message through since he doesn't speak Beagle very well at times.

He'd let me outside, and I'd do my thing, then come back to the door. I'd look at him and then walk away again. I did this several times, and I think he finally began to get it.4

That was Monday. Tuesday, he decided to take me back to the vet, I'm sure in hopes of some good news. I wasn't too excited about going out, even when he flashed the leash.

Judging from his reaction, I don't think he actually agreed with me that it was time to go until he made the decision. I won't bore you with the details of what happened after that except to say that there was cake! Even though I wasn't much into food at this point, you know I had to try that!

My human was sad, I could tell, but he stayed brave for me, and I'm glad he stayed through it all. He even stayed a while after, in order to make sure I got where I was going.

Speaking of which, I'm not really sure where this is, but I can tell you there are a lot of trees and lots of smells to check out. I think I'm going to like it here.

I've have checked in sooner, but there has been so much to do and see. First, there's the orientation, where they go over the rules. Rule 1: Play nice. Rule 2: Have fun. I think I can handle that.

The only problem with this new place is that they also allow cats. I've never had much use for them before, but I'm learning to adapt. The cats here seem a bit friendlier than I remember cats being, so I'm sure things will work out fine.

The other reason it took me so long to report on this new place was that I wasn't sure how to get this report back to my human so he could share it with you. As I said, sometimes he didn't speak Beagle that well, and he wasn't always the sharpest bone in the yard, if you get what I'm saying.

But he always meant well, and he tried hard to be a good human servant, so I figured I'd eventually be able to get a message through to him. Well, I did, and here it is.

I know he's still hurting a bit, so I wanted to let him know I'm doing fine here, and I'll be waiting for him. We'll have some fun then. Maybe I'll teach him to chase the tennis ball. Won't that be something to see?

Anyway, if you see my human around, maybe say hi or give him a hug from me. I couldn't really ever do that before. My legs were too short.

Well, I guess that about wraps it up from here. It took a lot to get this message through, so I won't be checking in again. Before I go, though, I've got a message for my four-legged brothers and sisters in fur. (Okay, this goes for you cats, too.)

Be good to your humans while you're with them. Most of them are doing the best they can and will likely hurt a while after you're gone. (As for those humans who aren't doing the best they can, they aren't worth peeing on, but go ahead and do it anyway. You'll feel better.)

Make sure you let your humans know that you love them, and make sure they love you back. And remember, beagles are regal. Goodbye until we meet again on the other side. Bark. Bark. Howl.

Aging Like a Fine Whine

In the past, a few people have asked me to post more often. Well, what am I going to write about? I know some blogs post about the daily events in the authors' lives. I guess I could do that.

Here goes. This is a typical day. I wake up. I pee. I eat. I drink. I sleep. I poop. I sleep. Rinse and repeat.

I guess I could write that every day, but it would get old in a hurry.

Speaking of getting old, my birthday was this week. That's right; I'm now the big one-one. Yup, I'm 11, but I don't feel a day over nine.

Now that I've reached what some refer to as "senior citizen" status (don't let me hear you say that or I'm likely to have a "senior moment" on your butt, if you get my drift), I guess I'm going to have to finally give in and join AARB. (That's American Association of Retired Beagles for those of you not up on your acronyms.)

They've been after me to join ever since I turned eight. I think of all the trees that went into printing those materials, trees that could have been marked as territory by other beagles, and it makes me want to howl.

Anyway, the benefits look pretty good: discounts on Nylabones and dog treats; reduced pricing on trips to places like Dog Walk, Kentucky; Dog Town, Alabama; Dogtown, California; and Dog Bluff Landing, South Carolina. I'm seriously thinking about a trip to Beagle Bay, Australia (seems a no-brainer), but I think I'll skip the trip to Kathmandu. (Those sneaky felines, adding a silent 'h' and starting the name with a 'K' trying to fool folks, but I know this is a cat town. You can't fool us beagles.)

On second thought, all this talk of traveling has worn me out. Maybe I'll just take a little nap. The daily routine works fine for me, and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Bark. Bark. Howl.

Does This Thing Make My Head Look Big?

I know I haven't been around for a while, but you know how it is. It's a dog's life - eat, sleep, poop, howl. Same ole, same ole. Not much happening

Of course, I did turn the big 1-0 last September. I celebrated by marking a few new spots in the yard and howling at the neighbor's new dog. Have to show him who's boss, after all.

Other than a birthday and another new Nylabone for Christmas (when will my humans wise up and get me an electric ear scratcher?), it's been a pretty uneventful life since I last visited. Until recently, that is.

My male human, well-meaning as he is (he's only human, after all), decided I needed some medical attention for some new growth on my left rear leg. My feeling has always been if it ain't broke, chew it, but he apparently isn't familiar with that philosophy.

So my human took me to the vet, and the vet decided the growth should grow no more and should be removed. I didn't mind too much. They gave me some nice drugs and some good ear scratches.

I just don't think it's me.

At least I wouldn't have minded except for the lampshade I have to wear that makes me look like I drank too much at a party and fell into the lamp snout first. I mean, seriously, look at this thing. Does this look like something any self-respecting dog would choose to wear? I look like a satellite dish with a head.

I guess it's to keep me from licking where the vet did his thing, but what good's a sore if a dog can't lick it? Plus, I can't get to any other spots. What's up with that?

Hopefully, I won't have to wear this thing too much longer. After all, somewhere there's a lamp going around topless. And if you've even seen a lamp go topless, you know it's not a pretty sight.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

Got A Bone to Pick (I Wish)

A big shout out to my fellow K-9s and K-9 servants, I mean lovers. I don’t know if I’m sticking my snout into a hornet’s nest or not, but there’s something that’s gotten under my fur and I just need to howl about it. (I think my humans would call it having a bone to pick, but if I had a bone to pick I wouldn’t be here. I’d be somewhere else with that bone. Just saying.)

Did you ever wonder why our humans feel the need to talk to us sometimes as if we’re babies? What’s up with that? You know what I mean, that high-pitched, whiny, sing-songey tone they use to try and sound cute when they talk to us. It kind of reminds me of one of those high-pitched whistles some people have that only us dogs can hear. Thankfully, my humans don’t have one. If they did, I’d find the darned thing and bury it in the back yard. Or maybe I’d just take it outside and leave my mark on it, if you know what I mean. I’m sure most of you fellow four-leggers would do the same.

What really gets to me is when they combine that high voice with slow, drawn-out tones: “Wooood Ollll-eee like a tree-ttt?” It’s kind of like listening to a talking snail on helium. Come to think of it, I’d like to hear that.

Humans must think us dogs are stupid or something. Not that I mind that too much. It keeps the expectations low. Heck, I only have to hold up my paw when they say “shake” or howl when they ask me to “sing” (I’m a tenor, by the way) and I get a treat. I’m just glad they don’t ask me to do real work.

All in all, I guess I can put up with high-pitched talking if it makes them feel good. After all, without me, what reason would they have for living? I tell you, it ain’t easy being this stinking cute at my age. A dog’s work is never done.

Excuse me now fellow pooch pals. I’m off to see if I can find a bone to pick. Bark. Bark. Howl.

 

Another Birthday, Another Christmas - Yes, It's All About Me

A big howl-out to everyone. It’s been a while since my last entry, but I’m back. Truth be told, I haven’t had much to say. My humans don’t take me out much as I don’t much fancy sharing space with the other man’s best friend wannabes in the neighborhood. People I like. They pet me and feed me and stuff. Other dogs just want to take my food. That’s how I roll (over, that is – a little dog humor there).

In the months since I last appeared on these pages (or whatever you call them since no paper is involved – what’s up with that?), things have been a bit quiet. Except for howling at the neighborhood dogs and the occasional passer-by, of course. There’s been the occasional trip out of town with my humans, but those were a little less frequent this past year. Something to do with what they call “work,” whatever that is. I have a hard enough time fitting in my naps with my eating and patrolling the yard as it is without adding something else to the mix.

Still, the year had a few good moments. In September, I turned nine, which some human said was like being 63 in people years. But, like they say, age is just a number, and I don’t understand numbers anyway. I’m a dog for Spot’s sake. I notice I have to stretch a bit more than I used to when I get up out of my bed. Otherwise, I feel pretty good, and I still like to mix it up with my humans once in a while, playing keep-away (they still call it fetch, humans are so cute that way) and doing a little roughhousing.

Christmas (I think that’s Latin or something for Canine’s Day) brought a couple of nice treats: a little bag of biscuits from one of my human’s friends (But what’s up with only giving me four? That’s barely enough for a taste.) and a Nylabone. I really love those, especially since they have saved me from an extra visit to the vet each year so they can play with my teeth. (They want to play with my teeth that badly, I’ll give them some teeth – right in the fleshy part where the sun don’t shine. If you catch my drift.)

I don’t much care for vets. They poke and prod and snip and trim. When was the last time a vet ever gave a dog anything back? Then they expect that a couple of measly treats will make up for all of that abuse. Not hardly. Plus, they really expect me to stand still through all of that when there are other dogs to check out and other things to smell? I don’t think so.

Well, I’ve gone on long enough. Besides, my other Christmas gift is calling me. It’s my new bed, and it gives me three beds throughout the house. (My humans just think it’s their house.) Typing this takes a lot out of me (I’m all paws), and I’m getting tired. Enjoy the new year. I hope it’s a good one for you. Get out and howl at the moon – or at the mailman, it’s all the same to me. Take a bite out of life (or a passing stranger), and get out and smell the roses, the grass, the trees, the bushes, visitors to the house. You know what I mean.

Later. Bark, bark, howl.

Why Does He Keep Smiling at Me?

Sometimes, my human can be most annoying. I'll give him an obvious look to let him know I desire something so that he can proceed to minister to my needs. And he'll just sit there and smile at me. It's so infuriating. Does he not understand dog?

What do I have to do to get him to respond in the way he should? And why should I have to do anything? Sometimes, it's enough to make a dog want to pick up his bone (or his ball) and go home. Except that I am home.

If it weren't for the fact that he feeds me, lets me outside, and lets me play keep-away with him, I'd consider trading in my human for someone else. After all, there has to be someone out there with an IQ higher than a can of Alpo who understands me.

Then again, seeing the problems humans have understanding each other, maybe I'm asking too much. They always seem to misinterpret, misunderstand, and misquote each other. No wonder they call dogs "man's best friend." They can't seem to communicate with one another well enough to get along.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

Just Checking In

I know I don't post on here often, but I don't always have a lot to say. What do you want from me? I'm a dog for heaven's sake.

How many times can I write about sleeping? I guess I can tell you I have two beds. That way, I'm always fairly close to a place to collapse when I get exhausted from howling at passing dogs or people or when it just gets to be too much having the house to myself.

I could also blog about the fact that I have to roll some stupid ball all over the house in order to get my food. Or the fact that the female human put some sort of plastic cover with little prickly tabs all over it on the places I used to like to get up an lay on when I have the house to myself.

Or maybe I could complain about the fact that the humans put me on a leash whenever they let me outside - all because of some hole in the fence that the neighbors won't fix. I tell you, Rodney Dangerfield has got nothing on me.

I guess I could write about all of those things, but that takes too much effort, and I'm tired. So instead of writing about any of those things, I think I'll go lay down and rest for a while. After all, a beagle needs his beauty sleep - all 18 hours of it.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

Three Years

Well, it's coming up on three years since I moved in with my current humans. (The less said about the previous four-plus years the better.) All in all, it's been a pretty good three years.

For three years, they've fed me pretty well. None of that cut-rate supermarket stuff, although a few scraps from the dinner table now and then wouldn't go amiss.

They let me play keep-away with them. (They like to call it fetch, but what's in a name?) They take me for rides in the truck from time to time and let me enjoy and explore new places when we take out the big rolling doghouse. (I think they call it a fifth-wheel, but I only see four. Maybe humans can't count so good.) They also don't get too upset when I throw up on the carpet, although the female human doesn't seem to find it very amusing.

However, I do have one beef with them. (Beef. Now there's something else I could go for in my diet. Hint, hint.) They no longer let me run free in the back yard. What's up with that?

Okay, so I did get out through a hole in the fence a few times, but I didn't go that far. Even so, now when they let me out, they put me on a long leash. I now have even less chance of catching squirrels or cats when I chase after them. I'm becoming the laughing stock of the animal kingdom.

They also started putting plastic with little knobby things on some of the furniture when they aren't using it. You'd think they didn't want me on it or something.

Still, life after three years with these humans is pretty good. I get plenty of food, plenty of rest (a dog needs his beauty sleep, after all), and plenty of lap time. Life around here isn't perfect, but a beagle could do worse.

Bark. Bark. Woof.

Thoughts on Middle Age

I recently turned the big "7." I can feel my age now and then; I move a little more slowly when I first get up from one of my delicious naps. I need to stretch a bit more to get all the parts moving.

Of course, I can't let my humans see me slowing down. It just wouldn't be right. After all, I can still run fast enough to keep the ball away from them, only letting them have it when they're about to lose interest. It's not like I'm ready to join the AARB (Association for the Advancement of Retired Beagles) or anything like that.

Still, age does have a few benefits. I can justify sleeping longer and more often, not that I ever felt the need to justify what is my divine right as a regal Beagle. And I can get away with claiming more lap time from my humans.

With age also come wisdom or at least an increased ability to drive my humans crazy. Lately, I've taken to staring at my humans and also pacing by the back door in an attempt to be let outside. What makes this more fun is doing these things just a few minutes after coming back in from the previous trip outdoors. This is also a great game to play when your humans are in the middle of doing something, especially if you can it seem urgent that you be let out at that very moment.

I've heard humans say a mind is a terrible thing to waste, but a devious mind is a wonderful thing to employ and enjoy.

Bark. Bark. Growl.

Ollie's Big Adventure

This week, I got a taste of some real freedom. Thanks to the fact that the fence around my humans' house is almost falling down in spots (no one seems to know who the fence belongs to, which is great for me), I found a spot to squeeze through, and I was gone.

Ah, the new sights and new scents! So much to see; so much to smell. Unfortunately for me, when I escaped our yard and got through a neighbor's yard, I turned the wrong way and ended up at the end of a dead-end street. So I couldn't make a complete getaway.

When my female human discovered I'd broken out, I guess she was worried because she came running. She was so cute; she seemed so worried when she spotted me. Not that I was. I was having too much fun.

However, I was at the end of a road, and I didn't feel like trying to crawl through plant life and who knows what to get somewhere else. So when my female human called for me, I swallowed my pride and my desire for freedom and adventure and came running. If I'd known how much she was going to carry on afterward about the fact that I came back, I probably would have thought twice about doing so.

I probably would have still come back, though, at least this time. My male human takes pretty good care of me; he feeds me and gives me water. Plus, he would probably miss not being able to pet me or have me sleep in his lap. And it's not like I can get room service just anywhere.

But now that I've had a small taste of freedom, the attraction is strong. One day, not even the promise of a treat may be enough to bring me back. So they might want to think about fixing the fence, regardless of whose it is.

Bark. Bark. Growl.

One Human's Odor is Another Dog's Cologne

Tonight was bath night. Yuck! My lady human said I stink. I think that's another way of saying I smell too good for the rest of them.

My male human never said anything, but he accepts me as I am, Eau de Backyard and all.

Anyway, my lady human has to resort to underhanded tricks to get me into the tub. She use treats to lure me and distracts me with the wonderful aroma of those little beagle bites. Then, when she has me in the room where the tub is, she closes the door. No escape! At least she lets me have the treats.

What is really devious about all of this is that she lures me into that room at other times and doesn't give me a bath. Then, after I've let my guard down, splish, splash, I am taking a bath.

I hate baths. They mess up my perfectly coiffed fur and take away the smells that make me the Beagle I am. Once I get out of the tub, I could be any dog, even a Poodle or a Pekingese *shudder*. Talk about useless. But that's a topic for another day.

I got my revenge, though. Once I escaped from the tub, I rolled on the carpet everywhere I could and left behind nice wet spots up and down the hallway. When they step in them, it's almost like stepping in you know what. It's almost as much fun as the time I used their bed as a toilet. Now that's my kind of fun!

Bark. Bark. Growl.

Updates and Observations

I haven't had much to say lately. My humans haven't done a lot lately (they're kind of boring sometimes, to tell the truth), so there hasn't been a whole lot to blog about.

My humans recently got me a new doghouse on wheels. It's newer and nicer than the last one, and it has nice big windows I can look out of all day. When I'm not sleeping that is. So far, we've only gone out of town with it once, but that was a lot of fun.

As I get older, I become more aware of just how easily humans are amused. For instance, my lady human is all excited because she "taught" me to shake and lay down. Heck, I lay down all day anyway, and if I can get a treat for doing what comes naturally just because she says "lay down" I am all over that.

I'll admit that learning to shake was a little more challenging. Being right-pawed, I only shake with that paw. If I were ambipawterous, or if there was the potential for increasing the treat intake, I might try harder to learn to shake left-pawed, but she seems happy, and I get treats for little work, so it seems like a win-win situation.

Hopefully my humans will get off their tails and start doing more stuff with me so I have more to write about. It's hard to type with these paws (try it sometime), so I want it to be worthwhile. Regardless, I'll certainly be back next month (if not sooner). It's my birthday, and I'm hoping for lots of treats and other goodies (hint, hint). I also know we have a birthday trip planned (they're calling it Labor Day, whatever that is, but I know better), so I hope to have something to report from that.

Hey! You know why cats have nine lives? Because the first eight are so boring, they keep coming back trying to get it right.

Bark. Bark. Growl.

What a Dog's Gotta Do

Sometimes, a dog's just gotta show their humans what's really important. That is to say, show the humans just who's boss.

Yesterday, my human was sort of running on this big round black thing, but he wasn't going anywhere. And he certainly wasn't giving me the attention due me as a regal member of the canine community.

Since he wasn't going anywhere, I figured he might as well spend some of that energy lavishing attention on me. But, humans being humans, he needed a little nudge, a not-so-subtle hint that his energies would be better spent elsewhere. That is to say on me.

Here I am. Of course, it doesn't
pay to look too interested.

So I took the plunge. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous about getting up on the round black thing. But, as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. So up I went.

Of course, once I was up on the round black thing, my human had to get off since he couldn't run while I was there. And that was the whole point.

Luckily, my human is pretty smart, at least as humans go. He got the hint, sat down on the floor, and began ministering to me. I rewarded him by allowing him to pet me and then, to show my appreciation of his efforts, by licking his hand.

Some might think I was being a bit shameless by being so blatant in my approach. But you know what they say. Sometimes a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

My Kind of Fun

Ah, the weekend! Nothing like a little time in the sun, a little food, and a little game of keep-away from my human. You can take a look here: 
Of course, I have to let my humans have the ball once in a while, or they lose interest. So, I let them think they're taking the ball away from me. Then I howl so they'll know to give it back, and we start all over again.

Playing keep-away with my humans is fun - for a little while. Eventually, though, I get tired of the game. Then it's time for a little snooze, unless of course there is food to be had. Nothing perks me up like a little snack. Maybe I can get them to serve me on the veranda, whatever that is.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

The Other Dog

Lately, my human hasn't been home as much as he used to be, and I'm getting a little suspicious. I can't prove anything, but I suspect he's got another dog on the side.

It's late when he gets home, and he's usually too tired to do anything except rub my belly a little and maybe throw the ball once or twice. He doesn't seem to have the energy to chase me when I'm keeping the ball away from him (my favorite game).

I hear the other humans talk about him working so much, but I think he's been cheating on me. After all, I don't see any new treats or toys for me. If he's working extra, where the proof?

So far, I can't prove anything. I sniff every night when he gets home, trying to catch a scent of "the other dog," but so far, nothing. But I know it's out there somewhere.

Regardless of whether it's another beagle, a collie, or, Dog forbid, a poodle, I can wait. Sooner or later, he'll come to his senses and remember whose human he is. When that time comes, I'll be waiting to play keep away or maybe just to lay in his lap. He seems to like that.

Freedom!

I got to ride in the big truck the other day, and we had the big white house on wheels behind us. That meant we were going somewhere. Yippee!

I didn't know where we were going, but I didn't care. I just knew there would be new things to sniff, new things to see, new territories to mark.

My human nearly got us in an accident when he almost hit some other human stopped in the middle of the road. If I could have gotten out, I'd have gone and given him a piece of my mind. And, before you ask, yes beagles have minds. We just don't mind all the time. That's a little beagle pun, by the way.

My stay here so far has not been as much fun as I'd hoped it would be. We've spent most of our time inside, but I can't blame my human too much. It has been windy and wet, and I don't care much for water except to drink it once in a while.

Still, I did get to go out and about a few times so i could say hello to the neighbors. Most of them aren't of the same social class, but one must be polite. Even a mutt has feelings, I guess.

My human has promised if the weather gets better he'll take me for a nice long walk. That would be divine. There'd be plenty to see and sniff, and afterward, I could take a nice long nap. A beagle's life can be pretty good sometimes.

Bark. Bark. Howl.

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.