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.

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.

 

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.

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.