Christmas Is Over...

Christmas is over and now I can revert back to my bad ways.

Well, it's not exactly that I'm Bad, it's just that I am not on my best behavior. I have 360ish days until next year. I'm pretty sure Santa is taking it easy right now. He's not making any lists or checking anything twice.

I don't believe he will know that I've gotten into the outside garbage twice and the inside kitchen trash once.

And even if he does, oh well. I've got so many more days to make up for this lapse in goodness.

I'll just be extra good next December. Around the time the tree comes back into our house.....

So, for now, Santa isn't a worry. It's Mom. She is less than pleased with me. Maybe if I lie on the couch and look pathetic and sickly and give her puppy dog eyes.....

Nope. She says she has no sympathy for my sick tummy since I did eat so much garbage on my own accord.

Santa is much easier to deal with!

Christmas, A Story In Pictures

Christmas Eve: 10pm, the kids have their pajamas....

Where is my gift? I have to wait until morning?

MOM!!!!! Not fair!

Christmas morning: 7am, the kids are upstairs sleeping....

I don't get it!

Who can sleep on a morning like this?

Not me! And not Mom since she's sitting here with me....

Oh, wait. She says she'd rather be sleeping but I can't be trusted on Christmas morning.

Well, I know I've got cookies in that stocking! I can hardly wait!

Even Olive Badger knows those stockings hold sweet yummy goodness!

Okay, we are all up. We are all ready. Where's my stocking now?

The kids first? Really? I've been waiting so much longer!

Still waiting.....

Stockings!!!!!!!!

My stocking is empty. How did I eat all my cookies so fast?

Now to wait. I know (since I found it earlier) that there is a gift under the tree for me....

My present!

And now, it's over. I've eaten all my cookies. I've chewed my toy a little, then Olive Badger took it outside. Now I'm going to sit here and wait for Christmas breakfast. Please let there be bacon and please let Mom be feeling Christmasy and give me a piece!

Merry Christmas!

2010, According To Emma

I have been a very good dog this year. Are you listening, Santa? I sure hope so!

I was good when Leah brought home a puppy….a Puppy! And this puppy is Not A Beagle! She’s more like a Badger, fierce and fluffy. The fluffy part is more Pomeranian, I guess. I let her sit next to me on the couch and take my favorite toys, and Sarah Beagle and I even play chase with her in the yard.

I was good when we packed up our car and trailer and drove way down to San Francisco, camping all the way. Leah’s puppy Olive is a very car sick companion. Did I complain when she got sick all over our dog blankets? Well, maybe just a little. I didn’t get scared walking through the Dinosaur Park to see life sized dinosaurs (I kept telling the other girls they weren’t real). I only ran away once on our trip and it was technically just to the car. And even though I had to skip Alcatraz (no dogs allowed, can you believe that?) Mom and I and Sarah Beagle and Olive Badger had fun at our hotel while Dad, David, and Leah walked those ghostly halls. And frankly, since I’m a bit nervous of ghosts, I wasn’t too sad to miss that tour.

I have been very good when Leah has practiced her piano all day long. I don’t bark or howl or beg to watch TV. I just sit on the couch ever so nicely and enjoy her music.

I have been super good when David got into the driver’s seat of our family car and started driving us around. I’ve been so much better than Mom! Mom acts all calm and cool, but we all can tell she’s a nervous wreck.

I’ve been good while Dad did his work thing, his motorcycle things, his working on old truck things. I’ve been good while Mom did her blog thing, her PTA thing, and all her work things (although I do not appreciate it when she mops the floor. As hard as I try, I can’t get around the wet floors without getting my paws wet!) I’ve been good while David and Leah did their school thing (10th grade and 8^th grade seem to be lots of homework) and David did his making Animal Farm into a movie thing and Leah did her money raising things for a 2011 spring break trip to Washington DC.

Now it’s Christmas time and I am being extra, extra good. Ever since the tree went up in our house, I knew the countdown to December 25 is on. Oh how I love Christmas!

I’ve been patiently explaining to Olive Badger all about Christmas and presents and our stockings that get filled after we’ve gone to bed on Christmas Eve… She insists that a guy in a red suit, sneaking into our house, is not something Sarah Beagle and I should have allowed. Olive is a great watch dog, by the way. Kind of reminds me of me when I was a pup, so worried about this guy called Santa.

I’ve told her over and over, Santa even remembers dogs on Christmas! Even sometimes naughty dogs who help themselves to food off the table or chew up parts of uniforms or bark at three in the morning just because they can. Santa’s great like that.

Do You Need Help With The Sprinkles?

My Mom is baking

Christmas cookie baking.

As soon as she stands where I can see her feet from my crate, I know it's going to involve food.

And when she pulls out the bins of flour and sugar and sets them on top of my crate, well then I know, it's going to be sweet baking.

I am up immediately, snuffling around, looking for bits of anything that might have fallen.

I see her mixing, then rolling, then beloved cookie cutters are used. I know frosting will be made (yummy, yummy, yummy!) and then the question I have to ask:

Mom, do you need help with the sprinkles?

'Cuz I'm a real helpful sort of dog.

And I'll only eat the first seven cookies I touch.

I'll save the rest for later.

Christmas Time Is My Busiest Time

You wouldn't know it, because I am just a dog, albeit a Beagle which makes me more than 'just a dog' but I am a dog, and you would not have any idea that Christmas is my busiest time of the year.

First, there is just the excitement of the tree, the stockings, the gifts I know Mom has hidden in her closet. Second, there is the baking. Granted, we haven't started to actually bake yet, but cookbooks are being dragged out and recipes shared and plans are in the works. Third is the excitement of Santa. I have never heard him come in the house on Christmas Eve, we don't have a chimney, but every Christmas morning when I get up, I know he's been here. My stocking is full of good dog treats and I have a present to tear off wrappings.

But for me, Christmas is the busiest time of the year because it is time to write the Family Christmas Newsletter. When I was a small pup, with a fat puppy tummy, I discovered I had a passion for writing. My Mom was kind enough to let me write the newsletter for our Christmas cards and a star was born!

I am funny and clever, but really, what else would you expect from a Beagle? Every year, I sit down and flex my creativity muscles and write.

This year, though, I seem to have come down with a case of my Mom's procrastination virus. Instead of writing the letter, even now when I have a moment, I'm blogging!

Blogging!

And it's only a week until Christmas!

The pressure is on. Mom says I don't have to worry too much, she hasn't started addressing Christmas cards yet, or gotten the family picture to put in the cards, but I know she's just being nice. I have to put my nose to the grindstone, and even if that grindstone smells inviting and tries to lead me off to on an adventure to find the source of the scent, I will not waiver.

Or I won't in just a moment. I think I hear someone in the kitchen making breakfast. I better check the floor for crumbs, and then I'll be write back here at the computer, writing my little witty heart out!

Hey! I'm Starving Here!

Mom.

I'm so hungry.

Starving, actually. How can you look at my puppy dog eyes and not give me food?

We Don't Need No Stinking Beds

Mom, you are laboring under the impression that we are babies. That we need soft beds and comfy pillows.

Not so, dear Mom. We are dogs. Wild dogs! Hear us growl our terrible growls and bark our terrible barks!

We don't need a fluffy mattress in our crate. We sleep outside in the gravel! Or the grass or the flower bed or just on the porch or in a patch of sunlight on the kitchen floor.

We are dogs! We can live in the great outdoors if we had to.

Although, I am awful glad to have a comfy place to lay and you know how much I love making a nest of blankets on the couch. Don't change a thing, Mom.

I just wanted you to not feel bad that Olive Badger can't help herself and can't keep bedding in her crate. She doesn't need a bed. She's the wildest of us all!

And So It Begins

There is a once yearly change that takes place in our house, where all our usual things are moved around and Santas and snowmen take over. When my favorite chair is moved out of the living room and an actual tree is brought in to take it's place.

You might think I would be upset by all this change, this disruption to my usual routine.

I am not.

You see, I know what this means. When the tree comes in, when I see the stockings hanging by the window, I know it is time to being the Christmas countdown.

I am a Christmas Hound. I love Christmas! I love my stocking filled with treats, I love tearing open the paper on my present, I love sticking my nose in everyone else's unwrappings!

I've noticed Mom did not hang up my stocking. She knows I can't handle seeing it up. I will spend hours staring at it if I see it. I know one morning I will wake up and there will be gifts under the tree and my stocking will be stuffed.

I can't wait!

Why I Am Not Thankful On Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is another holiday that is not made for me. It should be. I love turkey. I love stuffing and mashed potatoes, rolls and butter, and don't even get me started on pie!

But my Mom never hosts Thanksgiving. She's not a fan of cooking turkey (and frankly, I've tasted her turkey, no one is a fan of eating it...) That means my family puts us girls in our crates and takes off to parties unknown.

We spend all day in our crates, and I might be the only one who knows what Thanksgiving is since when I was a young pup, my family took me everywhere and I know attended several Thanksgivings, but that doesn't mean Sarah Beagle and Olive Badger are unaware of doings a-foot.

We saw Mom baking a pie. We hung out at her feet and scarfed up any bits of pie crust that fell to the ground. We hopped around her feet as she was making sweet potatoes in the hopes that she would drop a marshmallow. She did not. We watched our family get dressed up (even Dad!) and we knew it was party time.

Just not party time for us!

And that is why I'm not thankful on Thanksgiving. I will be a little thankful later if, after Mom makes turkey sandwiches for lunch, she gives each of us dogs a little piece. That would go a long way to making me smile!

A Pushy Nosed Menace

Me and my girls, in the Good Old Days

Mom, I know when you heard that terrible thud and found me trapped behind the couch in the bay window, you thought I was just clumsy.

But now that Sarah has also fallen behind the couch, I think you are suspicious that it's not an accident.

It's not.

Olive Badger is pushing us off the back of the couch!!!

I'm not sure if she's doing it on purpose, since you've seen how crazy she gets when she's excited, but I know for sure, I was pushed. Pushed I tells ya!

Or at least, nosed very hard.

Olive is a menace! A pushy nosed menace! Tell everyone to beware!

If you sit on the back of our couch, trying to look out the window for people walking, leaves falling or squirrels daring, you might feel the cold wet nose of the Badger tipping you end over top down into the abyss that is behind the couch.

By the way Mom, it's a bit dusty back there. I saw Badger sized dust bunnies!

Day Light Savings Time Has No Meaning To Dogs

I live my life by my internal clock. I know exactly when I should be fed every day. I know exactly when I should be let out of my crate every morning. And I know when I should go to crate at night. Sometimes, at night, I get tired of waiting for my parents to be ready for bed and go to crate without prompting.

The point is, I know what time it is. Sure, I'll try to fudge and get my meals early. I've been known to drag my food dish around the kitchen an hour before it's time. I'm just testing my old folks, to see if they really do pay attention to the clock.

But there are two days every year that mess me up. One is in March, and the other, unfortunately is today.

Mom says it's Daylight Savings Time and we either spring forward or fall back. I like the spring. I like eating earlier than my clock says I should. But today, today is the worst! Mom says it's 11, and I have to wait an hour until lunch.

I say it's lunch time right now and I'm going to snuffle around the laundry room looking for lost pieces of dog food.

Mom says I have to get out of there, she knows I'm one nosing away from knocking over the whole bag of dog food.

This day is truly a horrible, rotten, no good sort of day.

Halloween Is Bad For Dogs

This holiday, this "Halloween", is designed to make dogs unhappy.

First, there is the awful possibility that your parents will shove you into an uncomfortable, unbreathable costume. I'm ashamed to say I speak from experience. Dog Dracula, anyone? The stores are full of pet costumes. I had to wear a full cape. Try going the the bathroom in a cape! Not for the faint of heart.

Second, and this is only second because of how it came to mind. It is equal to the first in horror. There are bowls of treats everywhere. And not one drop should go to dogs.

Oh, the inhumanity! To hear my family's hands rustling around in that big bowl of yumminess, knowing full well that nine times out of ten, they will sit down with CHOCOLATE candy.

Chocolate! Something no amount of sad, begging, puppy eyes will get me.

Thank goodness Grandma Mary makes divine caramel corn every year.

If I'm very lucky, and sit pretty, I will get a piece of that.

If it weren't for the caramel corn, I'd say we should ban this holiday. But, I'll be honest. That corn is so good, one piece, ONE piece, is worth the rest of the Halloween horrors!

Dog Steps To Nowhere

My mom threatened and threatened and finally did it.

She bought those "as seen on TV" dog steps, complete with carpet cover.

She put them in her bedroom, next to her bed. She tried to entice me up them with treats. I don't think so. I'll do a lot of things for treats, but I won't do that.

I can jump up onto the bed by myself, thank you very much. I do not need to walk up some rickety plastic steps that say they hold 70 dog pounds, but I highly doubt it. You would doubt it too if you saw the way they sway if they aren't pushed up against the bed.

Now, Lightfoot Badger, aka Olive, flies up and down those steps like they are a natural extension of the bed. She doesn't have to be cajoled to use them, unlike me.

In my humble Beagle opinion, Mom, those steps lead to nowhere. I will not use them.

Instead, I will continue my hesitating hopping jump at the edge of your bed. Sure, it takes me several tries before I actually jump, but I can totally do it on my own.

Eventually.

Teaching An Old Dog New Tricks

I have been a proficient door scratcher for years. When I need to go out or come back in, I scratch at the door.

I taught Sarah Beagle how to do it, and she caught on quickly.

But try as I might, and as hard as my Mom has tried, Olive Badger just won't do it. She'd rather have an accident in the house then scratch at the door!

It's shameful really.

So Mom has just left the back door open all these months. Rain or shine, hot or cold, the door is open.

The cold morning a few days ago changed all that. Mom said enough is enough and closed the door. Then Dad bought a dog door and put it in.

Olive, darn her, jumped in and out of it before it was even fully installed. She loves it. That heavy plastic swinging door doesn't bother her at all.

I hate it. I still scratch a the door, but Mom won't open it. She says I've got to learn how to use the dog door.

That's not fair!

I'm an old dog, who shouldn't have to learn any new tricks. But Mom says I'm not that old and I'll be happier in the long run being able to go in and out without having to wait for someone to open the door for me.

Hmm. I remain skeptical.

Mom has sweetened the pot by giving me a treat when I use the dog door.

Mmmm. Treats.

I've never identified with Scooby until today, but I'll do anything for my own scooby snack! Even use a doggie door.

The Diggingest Dog

When I was a wee pup, my family had a giant dirt pile in the backyard. It was so awesome! I got to dig to my hearts content. So did my kids. The three of us would be out there, them with their shovels and pails, and me with my paws, digging, digging, digging.

Then the pile went away.

And there was no place to dig.

I guess the three of us had grown up a bit, because it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, to not have a dirt pile to dig in.

But now we have a pup who does not have a dirt pile and who is not doing well without one.

Olive Badger is driving Mom crazy! Usually a job reserved for Dad only, Olive has come in every morning this week with dirt up to her four armpits. Having a wash up in the sink has not deterred her at all!

Mom counted 11 holes last night!

11!

Now that is some digging.

I won't tell Mom about the hole Olive just dug this morning.

Some things are best left unsaid!

Sarah At The Table

My sister Sarah Beagle has the annoying habit of jumping up to sit on a dining room chair. One that is not too far from the table itself. She is sitting at the table really.

The annoying part is that Mom lets her.

If I tried that, I would be scolded from here to eternity!

But Sarah just sits there so pretty.

If you ask her, it has nothing to do with the table. I know, I've asked. She's not there to sniff out any crumbs. She is sitting there because it's close to the computer, and Sarah loves the computer, and loves it when our family is surfing the net.

Just this morning Mom was looking at you tube videos of Beagles and Sarah was sitting next to her, basking in Mom's laughter.

I wish that could be me.

But I wouldn't be there for the laughter. I'd be there for the crumbs.

I'd deserve the scolding I'd get.

I'll let Sarah Beagle have this one special thing. I've heard it's hard to be the middle Dog. She deserves a few crumbs thrown her way.

I'm kidding. I deserve the crumbs. Mom, don't you dare wash off the table when Sarah is sitting there! That would be intolerable!

If I Had A Human Job

I have given this a lot of thought lately, mostly due to the fact that my sister dogs are coming in covered in dirt and truck grease and it's obvious what they would be if they were human and could get a job.

Sarah Beagle would be a long distance runner. She'd win several gold medals and set records in marathons. She's that good. Seriously. She runs laps around our yard just for fun. When we run, I clip the edges of the laps and make short cuts so I can edge ahead of her. It's not cheating. She likes it. Olive Badger, meanwhile, just doubles back on the loop to jump out and scare Sarah. So far, Sarah isn't scared. She just grins and races past us both.

Olive Badger is a truck girl. My goodness she loves it when Dad's on his back under the truck. She's right there with him, inspecting his work, checking out numerous things on the under carriage. Last night she was making him turn pages in the truck parts catalog as she checked out each page. Not sure what her plan is, but from the amount of grease on her fur, she spends a lot of time under the truck thinking of how it can be made better. I admit, I'm too big to get under the truck, but even if I was a tiny pocket sized badger dog, I would not go under there. Ew.

But as for thoughts of myself, I have no idea.

I think the job I'm perfectly suited for is that of being a dog.

I know. Shocking.

Thank God I'm just that! A perfectly perfect Beagle.

I Am An O.E.

Dear family, you may not have noticed this but I am an O. E. An Over Eater.

Oh. You did notice? What was your first clue?

Unattended food gets snatched up in a heartbeat? I stand with my paws on the dining room table looking for scraps? I'll eat all the food you give me and beg for more? Coffee with real cream in it is my favorite treat to steal?

Oh. It was all of that and my extra pounds?

Hmm.

Well, don't blame me. It's in my genes. Didn't you know Beagles are notorious chow hounds?

You did? And you're okay with that? Cool.

But let me understand, you are not okay with me getting food off the table? Okay. I'll try to follow that rule.

Hey, I said I'd try! But on pizza night, all bets are off.

The Trials Of Having A Squirrel For A Neighbor

Things in our neighborhood have gone down hill while we were on vacation.

A squirrel moved into our trees and has set up housekeeping.

The thing is, he is not a very good housekeeper. The girls and I are finding his nut shells all over the yard. And he loves to sit on a stump right next to our porch and nibble on things. There is a huge pile of squirrel trash there.

The girls have been actively trying to dig the stump out. So far it has resulted in three large holes and stump that hasn't budge.

We take turns barking up his trees, but so far he just laughs at us. He jumps from the trees to the porch or the fence and he's fast. So very fast.

Plus, he's often just on the outside edge of our fence and we can't get to him without getting into trouble.

I think he knows that and is just over that line to tease us.

It's a trial. One I am starting to be resigned to. Olive Badger and Sarah Beagle have not come to that same conclusion, but as I tried to tell them this morning when we discovered further evidence of that squirrel scampering all over our yard, it could be worse.

It could be a rat.

I'll take this nose thumbing squirrel any day of the week over a rat. I'm shuddering just writing it.

So I will go back to resting on the porch chairs. The girls can stand watch if they want to. I'm half giving up. Only half, mind you, since I do enjoy a good barking and the squirrel gives me a chance to do that!

I Am Not A Fru-Fru Dog

Today I was beyond excited when Mom put the other two dogs in their crates, but bid me to come outside and go for a car ride. I ran right for the car and danced by the door until she opened it.

When we parked downtown, I could not believe it. Oh my gosh! The scents! The people! The everything! Walking downtown is so totally cool and I never get to do it!

Then we stopped at the most interesting smelling place of all. I should have been more nervous, but I was blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary until Mom picked me up and handed me over to a stranger!

She literally picked me up and gave me away!

I was taken into a room with about ten other dogs. Ladies were brushing fur and trimming nails and it was my turn next. I could see Mom as she stood outside. I spent the next ten minutes (the longest of my life, I assure you) staring at her, hoping she knew I was not happy with this turn of events, while a nice girl clipped my claws.

When she was done, she turned to Mom and held up a purple bandanna and asked if Mom wanted my neck tie to match my collar. Who did that girl think I was? Some kind of fru-fru dog?

I have never been more relieved than when Mom said no thanks to any scarfs, bows or ribbons.

Actually, I was more relieved when I was let down and got to go back out to my Mom.

The whole thing was not fun. Except the car ride. And walking downtown. Those things were actually pretty fun. And I did get extra treats. That's always nice.

But the nail clipping part, that was just not cool.

Snoopy Is A Beagle

I saw something so disturbing yesterday, I could not stop thinking about it. It was horrifying actually.

A car drove by covered with stickers proclaiming the drivers love of basset hounds. Basset's are cool, almost like a Beagle. Almost. So many stickers, which while I enjoy my Mom's one Beagle sticker, I would be embarrassed if she added more. There is a sticker to crazy ratio that we all should be aware of.

But right smack in the middle of all those bassets and loving stickers, was a sticker of Snoopy.

I can't help but think the implications are that Snoopy is a Basset.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

Snoopy is a Beagle. It says so on Wikipedia, just in case anyone doubts me. But how could you? Snoopy is iconic. We all know he is a Beagle.

A BEAGLE!!!

I'm still scarred from what I saw.

I Can Explain About The Garbage Can

Mom, I can explain. For reals.

I know you came into the kitchen and were shocked to see me standing with my head in the garbage can. I know that's bad. I know I'm not supposed to do that.

But I watched you throw out some perfectly good mac and cheese that the little kids didn't eat. It was perfectly good! I stood right next to you, with my best begging eyes going full blast, yet you tossed all that food into the garbage.

I couldn't resist. I know you know what I'm talking about. I may or may not have seen you eat a couple wooden spoonfuls straight out of the pan.....

And I'm also sorry. So very sorry.

Sorry I got caught! You have to give me props for not knocking over the can, for being able to open the lid and get what I want without disturbing anything. If you hadn't walked in and saw me, you'd never have known I ate anything.

I'm that good.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

I love sunshine. I will sprawl myself out in any patch of that golden goodness I can find and just soak up all that radiant heat.

But today it is raining. Oh, the rain.

I jumped out of bed, made a mad dash for the door, but when Mom opened the door it wasn't just a light misting of rain in August. It was a full blown torrential downpour.

It was so loud! And intensely wet!

I turned right back around and ran for bed. The call of the great outdoors will have to wait until it's not so ugly outside.

Unlike me, Olive Badger is out there flopping around in puddles. I think she has some sort of water proof suit. That's the only explanation for her going out there in that horrid weather.

The other possibility is that she likes the rain, and that thought, my dear readers, is too horrifying to contemplate further.

The Changing Of The Guard

I was quite the watch dog in my younger days. Being the only dog meant I had a lot of work to do. There is so much to sniff, chase, and bark at where we live.

I even had a death threat! I never let that stop me from guarding my house and my family.

But now we have this young whipper snapper of a puppy, who lives for guarding the house. She fairly vibrates with desire to keep this place safe.

I don't think I ever had that kind of drive. I was watching her rest in the sunshine on the front porch, which I myself love to do, but whereas I'm usually dozing, she was alert, her eyes scanning our street and sidewalk and yard and even the trees (she has a personal vendetta against a very forward squirrel) and I had to admit she is a better guard dog than me.

So Olive, I've decided to let you be the lead guard dog. I'm thinking I much prefer to nap on the porch chairs and let you sound the alarm. If it's serious, like that meter reader you had cornered the other day, I will be there to back you up in a heart beat.

By the way, give me a little more warning when you've actually got a real threat in the yard. I was a little embarrassed how much seeing that meter guy startled me. My only consolation was Mom also got startled. We both thought you were barking at the neighbor dog again. Just let me know next time so I won't jump out of my skin.

In fact, I hear you barking now. Hold on Olive, I'm coming! I sure hope it's not your squirrel again. That cheeky bugger is never coming out of that tree. You've just got to believe me on this one.

The Nerve Of My Mother!

I can not believe her nerve, the very audacity of her!

That she would put on her exercise clothes and her walking shoes and her sunglasses and a hat to hide her crazy morning hair and then try to leave me behind when I know she's going for a walk, it's beyond what I can believe.

She knows I know what mornings are for. She knows I know that if she doesn't sit down with a cup of coffee she is going to be changing out of her pajamas into her pirate pants (as Dad so fondly calls the pants she wears for exercise). She knows I watch her and wait to see if she puts on her shoes. She knows I know once those shoes are on, walking is about to commence.

And I do love me some walking!

But she tried to leave me behind yesterday! Tried to put me in my crate and take a walk by herself!

I'm still in shock.

Luckily I have crazy good sad puppy dog eyes, as does Sarah Beagle and Olive Badger, and we melted Mom's determination to walk alone. She mumbled something about us breaking her heart and us being pains in the rear, but I know she didn't mean the last part.

She likes being dragged, I mean, walked by us.

Here Kitty Kitty

I do not have an acquaintance with cats. I've never lived with one. I've never visited one. I don't know a single cat owned person.

That's not to say I'm not curious, or that I don't know cats are around.

Sometimes on walks I choose not to notice them. When a cat runs across the sidewalk a block ahead of me, why should I get worked up? I'm on a leash for heavens sake. My Mom is not going to let go so I can get to know a cat a little better. It's not even worth barking at.

Now, on the other hand, if it's the early morning hours, before 7AM and I am not allowed outside because my girls and I are a three dog barking band, and a couple of cats are strolling and lolly gagging up and down the street in front of my house, I might want to get to know those cats better.

I might want to give them a piece of my mind and a bit of lecture about the rules of the road and street safety and I might tell them that it is dangerous to just sit in the middle of the road and stare at my house and not be aware of cars coming.

Or I might want to bite them. I haven't decided.

I Was A One Dog Wolf-pack...

And being the only dog was just nice and dandy.

Then my parents brought home Sarah Beagle. She's fine and we like to play.

Then they brought home Olive. I find her a little less amusing.

But I discovered that with the addition of two other dogs, my wolf-pack grew and now I have a real pack! A group of lovely girls that happen to think we own every bit of land we see, even if we have just laid sniff to it for the very first time.

Camping this time was even more fun than usual because I knew my girls had my back if I ever needed to rumble.

Lucky for Mom, I never needed to rumble. She kept a short leash on us when other dogs were around. Kind of embarrassing, but what are you going to do? That's moms for you.

Today Is My Birthday

Today is my birthday. I am five years old.

I was slightly horrified last week to hear Mom say I was going to be six. I didn't feel six years old! Luckily, she checked her calendar and it clearly states I am just turning five.

I have been lots of places: walked the lone woods of the Yukon and stuck my head in a South Dakota prairie dog hole and walked the Vegas strip at night and stood on the overlook of the Grand Canyon and thought about walking on the Golden Gate Bridge (but it was too cold and way too windy)....

But to turn five in the comfort of my own home is probably the best place I could imagine being.

Mom did give me a graham cracker leftover from camping as a special treat. I don't mind if it's stale. It's still delicious!

I See A Suitcase

I see a suitcase laying open on my Mom's bed and I know. Something is up.

Dad just cleaned out the car and washed it and it shines. Something is up.

There are tubs of delicious smelling food sitting on the kitchen floor that I know I am not supposed to touch. Something is definitely up.

If they start putting those suitcases and tubs in the clean car, then I will know we are leaving on a trip. I'll jump in the car and sit in the front waiting patiently. I don't want them to forget me!

Of course, I've got to time this just right. I have gotten in too early and no one noticed me. The doors got shut and I was trapped! With no way to get to the food! That was not a good time.

But today, today I will plan much better. When the kids start putting their things in the back seat, then I'll get in.

I'm kind of excited! We've been up to Alaska, over to South Dakota, and down to Arizona....I'm a well traveled dog. I like to go on trips. It's great to sniff new things! And old dead things, but that's quite a different tale, one best left unsaid.

Sleeping In Ain't What It Used To Be

I know my Mom has complained about her lack of sleeping in due to having dogs in the house, but I just want to remind her when it was just me, only (not lonely) Beagle, I liked to sleep in!

Granted, it was under the covers with her, but I did enjoy sleeping late.

I still try to get my extra zzz's in....every morning I jump in her bed and snuggle down next to her....and every morning there is a really annoying puppy who stands on me and sniffs at me and in general makes sleep impossible.

I do not remember Sarah Beagle being anywhere near this excited in the mornings. Must be the PomDoxie in Olive. She's revved up and ready to go at an ungodly hour. This morning she was standing on me at 6:45!

The nerve of her! It's bad enough that Mom gets up before the alarm clocks hit 6:00. But at least she's careful to slip out of bed, keeping the covers on me and Sarah.

Oh well. I still have the couch for my early morning nap, the chair for my noon nap, and if it's sunny, I'll take my afternoon snooze outside in the warm grass. I'll catch up on my zzz's, no need for worry!