I've Got Two Words For You

Christmas Cookies.

 Dad thinks it's funny that a piece of cookie slid under the stove.

There is nothing funny about wasting Christmas Cookies.

But, being the nice Dad that he is, he got it out for me.

And it was, as expected, delicious!

Could I have another?

My Wish For Christmas

My wish, dear Santa if you are reading this, my wish for Christmas this year is really a wish for Olive Badger. (See? See how good and kind I am Santa? My first wish is not for peanut butter cookies in my stocking. That is my second wish....)

My wish is for Olive Badger and for her to not get in so many scrapes. Just like the time she got an eggnog carton stuck on her head, she tends to get into troubles. She tried to bite the Fed Ex guy, the mailman won't come up to our house anymore, and she is constantly chewing something to smithereens.

But last night she did the worst thing ever. She stole a half empty (which means it was half full) bag of chocolate chips out of the cupboard and ate it all. Six ounces of chocolate and a 15 pound dog do not equal good things.

She's been very ill, but she'll be okay. But I heard Dad say that dogs like the taste of chocolate, and after eating some, they usually will eat more, any chance they can. That is bad.

My wish for Olive Badger is that she will not love the taste of chocolate. I wish she would hate it, and remember being so sick. I know I'll remember it. I've never seen so much sick. I didn't even ask to have my crate opened until the floor was cleaned, twice.

It was that bad.

So, dear, darling, wonderful Santa. Please make Olive Badger just a teensy weensy bit better behaved; please make her just a little bit more like me. Once in awhile I get in the trash, and I've been known to bark in a ferocious manner at certain strangers, but overall, I'm a pretty good role model.

Ahem. Peanut butter cookies are a much appreciated gift for good role models. Just saying, Santa. Think about it.

What's With The Bobby Pins?

Hey, Olive Badger, what's with all the bobby pins in your crate? I've watched you search them out and carry them back to your bed, all happy and pleased with yourself. I thought you might be planning on a chew fest, but they remain mostly un-toothed.

Are you planning on using them in your crazy badger fur?

Pardon? You want to know what all the toothpicks in my crate are about?

Hmm. Why don't we let each other alone, and our individual collections stand, at least until Mom finds them. Can you imagine the look of puzzlement on her face when she cleans out our crates?

It will almost be worth losing my toothpicks to watch her wonder!

Is It Raining Outside? I Hadn't Noticed.

I woke up this lovely morning to discover that it is raining outside. Great huge drops of rain, coming down in copious amounts.

So, of course, being the Beagle that I am, and loving the be warm and dry, I have mostly stayed inside, bedded down in my crate with the heater blasting me with hot air. Sarah Beagle is likewise occupied.

Olive Badger, meanwhile, is outside, casually meandering in this downpour. Her look when she came inside, clearly said, "Oh, is it raining? I hadn't noticed. It's lovely out today."

Then she shook herself off, got the couch wet, and ran back outside to soak up more rain with her fluffy badger fur.

Too bad for you, Olive Badger, Mom's getting out the towel. You might not have noticed the rain, but Mom has. It's about to become that kind of day when you get dried off every time you come in the house.....

And yes, that is me laughing at you.

Olive Badger Finds A Frenemy

This is Olive Badger, looking unhappy because of something Mom is holding.

This is Olive The Other Reindeer, the thing that Mom is holding.

From the moment that Mom pulled Olive The Other Reindeer out of a bag, our Olive Badger has had a jones for it. It remains unclear whether Olive Badger likes it or hates it.

She acts like she hates it, but she doesn't bite it. She doesn't try to shake the stuffing out of it, but she does want it under her paw. Sarah Beagle and I took a turn at sniffing it, but frankly, it's just a stuffed dog wearing antlers. Olive Badger disagrees, and for that reason, Mom is being very careful where Olive The Other Reindeer lives. Like, it's going to live way up high on a shelf, safe from the climbing, acrobat that we know as Olive Badger.

Or at least, I hope it's safe. I looked over the area to see if there was a way to climb up to it, but I didn't see one. Of course, 5 years of living in our kitchen with a crate next to the counter, I never once thought I could jump up on the crate and get a loaf of bread down, and Olive Badger knew that was a doable action right away.

Olive Badger is clever like that.

Remembering Nemo

My Mom is a firm believer that dogs will be in heaven. I like that idea a lot. Sure, in part because I am a dog and I like the idea of heaven, but also, because that means we will see this big lug again.
Nemo was my cousin dog. He was roly poly, surprising fast, and he loved a good belly scratching. We did not always get along. We are dogs after all, dogs from two different families, brought together for parties and camping and various work days, all of which involved food of some kind and as previously mentioned, I am a food hound. So was Nemo. There were some conflicts!
I knew when my Mom came home from visiting nephews, that she would smell of Nemo, because Mom is one of those people who gets down on the floor to play with the kids, and if a very excited Corgi came over and sat in her lap, well, she's going to not only let him, but give him so much petting he will be delirious with it.

And that was okay with me. It was very exciting for us to smell her pant legs when she came into our house. The three of us girls would surround Mom, tails wagging, ears on alert, noses going overtime. Even Olive Badger would take a turn sniffing, although I'm sure it was more of a monkey see, monkey do situation than her really understanding why we were sniffing Mom's legs!

Sadly, so very sadly, Nemo has passed on. Mom has cried and spent time petting all of us girls. Some people might say that's weird, it's just a dog and not even a dog that lived with us. But Mom remembers a big footed Corgi puppy, tumbling around in her backyard, before we were even a twinkle in her thoughts. She remembers having a dog nephew before she had real boy nephews.

She remembers Nemo, and I will too. Catch you later, Corgi-gator.

Halloween: To Scare Or Not To Scare

Folks, this is a very serious question you should ask yourself. Are you going to go all out, decorating with spooktacular flair, stringing up cobwebs and spiders, bats with flapping wings, scarecrows with evil grins?

Or, would you consider the feelings of one small Beagle who has never liked scarecrows and notices right away when Halloween decorations are waving in the breeze and reacts with a large amount of terror and grim determination to just get past the house and not let that thing get me?

I'd be ever so thankful if people along our walking route would not put out anything too scary. And by that I mean just about anything that is unusual.

It's not just for me, mind you. I've got to protect Mom. She is easily frightened. She might not show it at all, and might not even look like she is shivering with terror, but I can tell she is. Those scarecrows from Michaels are just terrible things. They should be outlawed, banned, and run out of town.

I know Mom agrees.

Er, I hope Mom agrees. It's bad enough that I live with a Badger. I don't think I could survive a scarecrow too!

Now, Folks, honestly! Isn't this just terrifying?

And Then The Horses

We are very lucky to have a house right on the Homecoming Parade route. We don't have to walk downtown, because the parade goes right past our house!

This year Dad closed us up inside the house, and would not let us go out.

Okay, he was in the right. We were going to bark. Probably an embarrassing amount.

Instead, I sat on the back of the couch, watching the parade crest the hill, with a perfect Beagles eye view and it was all good. I was shivering with excitement and nerves but I was in control. I wasn't barking or growling or jumping from couch to chair to couch in a spastastic way such as Olive Badger was doing.

I was a pretty cool cucumber.

Until the horses.

Yes. Horses.

Horses came up the hill, in the Homecoming Parade, and I lost my cool. I want crazy with barking, running from door to door, trying to get out of the house.

It was a no go. Dad remained firm, and the doors remained closed, until the parade was long gone and the horses were probably trailered and on their way home without me ever having the chance to bark a greeting to them, to quiz them on what it's like to be a horse, to give them a warning that this was Beagle turf and they'd best just move on along.

Hmph.

It was a once in a life time event, Dad! And they didn't even poop in the road. I won't have any chance at all to get a good smell of them!

I Am The Winner

I have a few commands that I know and will obey. Sit, stay, lie down, and my favorite, where's your toy.

Where's your toy means that Mom or Dad are going to play with me and I need to find my ragged, stuffingless, usually soaking wet toy, and find it right now, before the other girls hear and try to hone in on my play time.

Sometimes, if I bring my toy to Dad, he will stop doing what he is doing and we will play tug of war, and when I finally let him get the toy, we play fetch. I love to race after my toy, snatch it up, and race back to him to play some more ferocious rounds of tug.

I am ashamed to admit that I usually get tuckered out before him. But in my defense, Dad is just standing there, while I running around like a mad Beagle.

But the other night something awesome and wonderful happened. I won! I wore Dad out! We played and played and played and he finally let go of my toy, patted my back and said those glorious words everyone wants to hear.

"You win!"

I did try to get him to keep playing, more to prove to him that I was no where near done, but he was tuckered out this time, and settled down on the couch to watch TV.

I am the winner. And it feels great!

In Which We Scare Off A Big Dog

We three girls love our morning walks with Mom. I think Mom is loving them a bit less since she's got a pack of wild family dogs leashed to her arm, but she does like the company when walking.

What she doesn't love is other dogs running loose in the neighborhood. She used to treat them with a stern, "Go Home," but after Sarah Beagle got chewed on by a big Rottweiler, Mom has gotten fiercer in her yelling when a strange dog runs towards us.

We were walking this morning, Sarah Beagle and I on the scent of something, Olive Badger dancing on her back legs trying to get birds on a wire, when we all became aware of a strange bark. Then we all became aware of a strange dog. Then we all became away of a strange big dog running towards us.

Mom yelled at it to go home, but it kept running. Olive Badger went berserker. She was all over us, tangling our leashes, practically screaming her barks of rage at this big dog daring to come near us. Her barks got Sarah Beagle and I going, and the three of us were fierce, back fur raised, voices loud, bound together with leashes.

That big dog stopped running. He literally turned his head to the side and stared at us, trying to figure us out. And what he decided was, we were to much to handle and he RAN AWAY.

We scared him off! We were a little crazed with adrenaline for the next few blocks, but that's understandable. We scared off a big dog! And later, a little one, but Olive could have scared the little dog off with one paw tied behind her back. We've seen that little one before, and he usually wears a scarf.

It's hard to feel proud of scaring off a little dog wearing a scarf!

The Rules For Barking On Walks

Mom has some pretty serious rules about barking when we are on walks.

As in, don't bark. It's rude.

If we don't like dogs walking by our house, barking at us, we shouldn't do it to them when we walk by their house.

Olive Badger does not follow this rule at all. Olive Badger is a Badger born to bark. She puts her whole body into it and fairly vibrates the leash with her frenzy.

Mom does not approve. And when she picks Olive Badger up to carry her away from the barking spot, Olive does not approve. Yet, Olive continues to bark while we are walking, Mom continues to pick her up, and Sarah Beagle and I continue to pretend we aren't with them.

It's a walk, for goodness sake, Olive Badger! Stop being carried! It's starting to embarrass us.

My Name Is Emma Leave-It

My name is Emma Leave-It, or at least that is how it seems when we walk with Mom. She is constantly saying, "Emma! Leave it!"

All I'm doing is enjoying our walk, but she's against me.

Take yesterday for example. Sarah Beagle and I found a lovely dead squirrel, and we'd barely gotten a chance to give it a sniff before Mom was saying things like No! and Leave It! and That is so gross!

Olive Badger, meanwhile, was looking up at some birds on a wire and didn't even know that a real dead squirrel was just lying in the bushes, begging for some good sniffing.

If it's still there tomorrow, I'll be ready. I remember every place I sniffed a gross thing or stolen a treat to eat. Olive Badger, meanwhile, remembers where every dog lives that has ever barked at us, and a block from the barkers house, she is on alert, ready to growl and bark. If only she'd put that devotion into finding dead squirrels!

Right now it's Sarah Beagle and I pulling Mom one way, and Olive Badger pulling the other. If we joined forces, just think of all the pull we'd have! We'd get more than just a drag by sniffing of dead squirrels.

In Which Sarah Beagle Goes Back To Bed

I am a sleeping in kind of hound dog. At 5 AM when I burrow under the covers with Mom, I am perfectly content to stay in bed sleeping for hours and hours. Even if Mom gets up, I don't mind staying in bed.

Olive Badger, meanwhile, jumps out of bed as soon as Mom sits up. She does not want to miss a single thing Mom does, especially if there is a chance that Mom is taking an early morning walk. Sarah Beagle gets up too, because frankly, with Olive and her, it is monkey... see monkey do!

I'll get up, but only if I know for sure and true that we are walking. And after walking our little paws off for at least 1.5 miles, I come home, eat my breakfast, and sack out on the couch, while Olive takes the other couch and we nap.

Sarah Beagle goes back to bed.

If Mom's bedroom door is open and Sarah wants an anytime of day nap, she goes back to bed. I can't tell you the number of time we've heard Mom's startled explanations when she forgets that a dog might be in her bed.

I keep telling Sarah if she just sided with me, and stayed in bed even when Olive Badger gets up, we could nestle down and sleep.....but she can't resist the siren call of an Olive Badger.

Or the siren call of Mom's bed when she's tired and ready to nap!

Best Camping Ever

I've done quite a bit of camping. My family loves to throw things in the tent trailer and take off for parts unknown, but my favorite camping trip we do is practically in our back yard!

When we drive outside of town to Grandpa and Grandma's place, and park our trailers in the field and dogs and kids tumble out and we get to run unfettered by rules of leashes and tie outs and calls from worried parents of "don't go too far", it is absolute heaven.

The smells, the fields to explore, the trails to follow, the bits of pancake and bacon and whatever else my soulful begging eyes can plead for.....

I didn't want to leave! Dad may have had to chase me a bit to get me in the truck. I understood one of my cousins crying as he was put in their van. I felt the same way. Mom says we'll do it again next year.

Is it too early to start my count down? Only 364 days to go!

Thoughts On Turning Six

Happy Birthday to Me!

I took a walk this morning, I basked in sunlit driveway, I ate banana bread, I had a bath.

Well, the bath wasn't fun, and as Mom started cleaning the bathroom I could tell she was thinking if she was going to scrub the tub, she might as well make it really dirty first and wash three dogs....She seems to be on a kick this summer to have squeaky clean dogs.

I played chase with my girls, I helped Mom as she weeded the flower beds, I made sure our property was intruder free.

And if I can have one more bite of banana bread tomorrow, I will call this the best birthday ever!

I'm six years old, and that's a good thing.

Mom Smells Like Puppies

Holy Moses, Red Alert! Mom smells like Puppies!

Like she might have been holding, snuggling, loving Puppies. Like she might have petted soft puppy fur and let puppy breath sniffle in her ear. Like she might have patted fat puppy tummies and rubbed her check against velvety puppy ears.

This could be bad news for us. Mom is a sucker for puppies.

Oh, the puppies weren't Beagles?

We are safe then. Mom is a sucker for Beagle puppies. And sometimes, small Badger like puppies, but we're stocked up on those things right now.

Right, Mom?

She agrees. Whew!

Two For Smell, One For Sight

Mom thinks it is so funny to walk the three of us and watch how we take in our surroundings. Sarah Beagle and I are all about the scents and smells along the trail. We put our noses to the ground and our tails are up and we make a snuffle noise the more intriguing the scent is.

Olive Badger is a sight dog. She spends all her walk looking around, mostly on the look out for birds. She thinks she can catch a bird and does her best to fulfill that destiny.

The three of us are rarely on the same game plan. The times that Sarah and I are pulling hard to discover the source of a fascinating smell, Olive is being dragged along for the ride, not at all sure what has us so excited. The times that Olive is desperate to chase the bird she is watching, Sarah and I are not interested.

And since it is two against one, Olive Badger is on the losing end of this tug of war.

Sadder still, in Mom's opinion (not mine because I have to share with Sarah already) is that Sarah and I find things to eat. Be it bread or spilled mocha or something too disgusting for Mom to think about, we will sniff it out and eat it before Olive has a chance to see it.

She's too focused on birds. I know badgers usually have a great sense of smell and poor eyesight, and maybe I should change Olive's name to Olive Birddog, but she is quite fierce and prefers to be known as Olive Badger.

And since she is the best watch dog in our family, I think she can keep what ever name she wants.

Did You Hear That?

What was that noise? That rustling around in the carport? And the scent! Something is out here girls. Something is here, messing around on our turf!

We get it cornered, but that little scamp can climb high and cling to the rafters.

Mom is having a freak out. She thinks it's a rat. She saw it's skinny little tail and is not happy that something is crawling around in the messy carport. The way she ran back into the house when she heard a noise was kind of funny!

When Dad got home, he helped us flush it out. He wasn't afraid of a rat leaping off the beams and landing on him. Turns out, it wasn't a rat. Mom came out of the house a little to give a look see. It was a tiny chipmunk who sat here staring at us, giving us the eye, flaunting his superior climbing skills.

Stand down Sarah, it's just a chipmunk. Code Red Rat Alert has been cancelled. We can still be Code Pink Chipmunk Alert, but Dad says we have to come inside and let it be un-harassed for a bit.

But Dad! It will get away if we aren't out there watching it! I have a sneaking suspicion that is the reason he won't let us back out!

But Mom Said No

Yesterday was my lucky day. I got to go on a walk in the morning with Mom and Dad and it was nice outside and we smelled lots of good things and Olive Badger has finally gotten the hang of walking on a leash and we were hardly tangled up at all.

I got to go on another walk after dinner! Can you believe it? I was so surprised and excited. And not just with Mom and Dad and Sarah Beagle and Olive Badger, but my kids came too! That hardly ever happens now that they are in high school.

But things got even better. We only walked a little ways, but two houses from our destination, I went a little crazy with excitement. I just knew we were going to visit Grandma in her yellow house and I was right! I was pulling so hard at the leash, Dad had to walk faster.

I leaped up the steps and ran into the house were the girls and I promptly spazzed out. We ran around and around, we jumped, we danced, we leaped and galloped.

And we looked for food. Because at Grandma's house, where little kids like to visit, there are lots of crumbs of food hanging out under table chairs and the kitchen is a sticky smorgasbord! It's heavenly.

The girls and I were finding great things. We got to share a whole cookie that a little cousin had left behind. Olive licked up soda as it was spilling out of a loosely held cup. It was all great until a giant spider came out of hiding and wanted to join our party.

Mom and the kids and us girls all froze as we took in the size of that eight legged creature. It was a big 'un.

Grandma didn't freeze. She moved forward and smashed it flat. Go, Grandma! I leaped forward to investigate, possibly give it a lick to see if it tasted good, but Mom said, "No Emma!"

Humph. Grandma would have let me, but Mom said no. I watched Grandma sweep it up and toss it out, sadly without any idea of what it smelled like.

Good thing another cookie happened to break into three pieces and find their way to Olive, Sarah and me.

I love Grandma's house!

It's Not Christmas

It's not Christmas, but I see some presents wrapped in red paper.....

It must be some one's birthday!

Olive Badger and Sarah Beagle are busy leaping and cavorting on the couch,

but I get close just in case L needs help,

OR in case the present is actually for me and she's gotten it by mistake...

Nope, it's for her: a boring old music book.

Nothing to chew or squeak or eat.

L is happy and pleased, so I guess it's a good gift for a 14 year old girl.

It's kinda boring for an almost 6 year old Beagle!

Which reminds me....
Mom, I am working on my birthday wish list.

August 6th is just around the corner!

I don't need a birthday cake with candles, but a pancake wouldn't be remiss.

She Is Called Puppy

Olive Badger has always been and probably always will be called L's Puppy. She's not a puppy, but whenever Mom talks about us dogs, she calls Sarah and me "the Beagles," and Olive is "L's Puppy."

Which shouldn't matter except recently she was stopped in the middle of the story about the Beagles and L's Puppy to ask if we had a new puppy. No, the same old one.

How old is your puppy?

Mom did some math in her head....L's Puppy is 20 months old. Um, that's almost two years old. Not really a puppy.

Um. Hmm.

But the answer my friends, is simply this: Olive will always be called L's Puppy because that is what she is. L saved her money, $300 of it, and bought a puppy of her own, and since Olive is always going to be tiny, it's so easy to forget that she isn't a puppy.

She's more like a teenager. And yelling, "L, your teenage dog just ate a shoe!" does not roll off the tongue as easily as yelling, "L, your puppy just ate a shoe!"

And since Olive Badger is kind of a hooligan, and is always finding something to chew that doesn't belong to her, I think she'll always have the label Puppy.

It just fits.

What Do You Mean I Stink?

Mom, I understand that our barking and howling at 4:30 this morning might have gotten you up on the wrong side of the bed, but did our morning really have to end in baths, again?

You've got to understand that we were noisy because something was out in our yard! We could hear it. When you let us out, we could SMELL it. And it smelled horribly glorious.

Now, I think you wouldn't have known we had had a little roll in muck, if only Olive Badger was not a white dog. As soon as you saw her, laying on your couch, all her white fur a brownish green color, you knew something was not good.

I hate to admit it, but I got a kick out of you carrying Olive into the bathroom for her bath. Ha, I thought! Olive Badger was sure a mess. Then you came out, with one sad wet dog, and checked Sarah Beagle. Uh-oh. Sarah was also a bit on the dirty side, so off she went to the bathroom too.

I still stayed on the couch, all sprawled out and feeling safe and secure that I would not have to a bath.

I forgot that you are pretty smart, Mom. You came out and headed right for me. I could feel your eyes checking me over and then you leaned close and sniffed.

What do you mean I stink?

I think it's obvious I thought it smelled great. I rolled in it enough to have gunk caked onto my neck fur.

Sad to say, in the battle of bath or no bath, I lost and am once again wet, disgruntled and smelling like shampoo.

But it was a glorious smell while it lasted! Totally worth it.

It's A Three Dog Nap Kind Of Day

This is what we do after a traumatic experience.

No, it wasn't the lack of sunshine and warm weather, or my visit to the vet (my eyes are getting better!) or that hot dogs were made for lunch and we did not get any.

It was much worse than that.

It was, my dear readers, Bath Day.

An event so traumatic, that the girls and I spend the rest of our day making nests out of blankets and pillows and getting all the furniture damp as we nap away the horror.

Mom had the audacity to complain that the house smelled weird, like wet dog.

Hmm. I wonder why? Could it be the three wet dogs, recently bathed?

Hmm?

Side note, my fur looks exceptionally glossy. That, I am sure, has nothing to do with the bath or the fur brushing I was forced to endure. My glossy fur is thanks to my good Beagle genes!

I Do Not Feel So Good

It was a normal Thursday afternoon. The kids let us out of our crates and we ate lunch and ran around and barked and enjoyed the sunshine.

But by dinner time, I did not feel so good. My family's first clue that all was not right was when the dinner call went out and I did not leave the nest I had made in Mom's bed.

My family, bless their dear hearts, immediately started looking for me. They found me in bed, in the dark, and when they turned on the lights, everyone gasped.

I guess I had the looks to match the bad way I felt.

My right eye was closed and swollen looking, while my left eye looked rolled back and the lids drooped a little.

Emergency call to the vet, where they told us to come on in. Then they saw me and said, take her to the emergency vet. I trembled. I drooled. I sat up and laid down in 30 second intervals. Whispered questions were asked of my family. Has she eaten anything bad? Snail poison? Maybe she had a seizure? Or a stroke.

Pizza was dropped off at the house for the kids, and I was not even slightly interested. I sat in the truck, between Mom and Dad and a pizza box, and I did not even sniff the air once. I was in bad shape.

The emergency vet place is actually quite nice. Everyone treated me nicely and they could tell I wasn't faking. After lots of tests, even had my blood sucked out into a tube, we got the news.

I have anterior uveitis. It's worse in my right eye, but my left eye was starting to look iffy. My pupil was the size of a pin head, and I could hardly see. And the pain! Oh, the pain. It hurt terribly. So now I'm on two different kinds of eye drops, one every six hours, and one every eight hours, and I have half a pain pill every 8 hours.

Those pain pills are marvelous. My family can tell when it's time for me to have one just by the way I hold my eyes half closed. As soon as it kicks in, I open my eyes, and even though they are cloudy, I can see well enough to go outside and bark.

It's going to be a long week of eye drops, but my reward is a bit of peanut butter! I love peanut butter.

Swedish Pancake Saturday!

No, this isn't the start of our fight club (which, by the way, we aren't supposed to talk about).

No, this is much more serious. We are waiting for Mom to stop dinking around taking pictures.

Our Swedish Pancakes are on the counter cooling down and we are so ready to eat! We had watched Mom make pancakes for 4 teenagers, and I'll be honest, towards the end of their eat fest, we were getting a little nervous that there wouldn't be enough batter left for us.

It was with great relief when we heard her say, "That's the last pancake for people. This last one is for the Girls."

Olive Badger calmed down and quite jumping at Mom's legs.

Sarah Beagle came out of her bed where she'd been heaving sighs of sadness.

And I, well, I stopped my pouting and started my dancing.

Swedish Pancake Saturday! It's the best day of the week! Followed closely by Regular Pancake Saturday and Waffle Saturday.....

Whose Rug Is That Anyway?

I think the rug that lies in front of the kitchen sink is for me. Mom thinks it is for her when she's doing the dishes. Olive Badger disagrees with both of us and thinks it should be her rug 24/7.

At least I have the decency to just hover by it while Mom stands there, up to her elbows in sudsy water and dirty dishes. Olive Badger lays there, waiting for Mom to make one little move, then Olive edges over. She acts put out when Mom steps back to what she thinks is her spot, only to find a fluffy Badger underfoot.

Mom, since you are taking a break to take our picture, do you think you could give us lunch? I've dragged my food bowl over here because I was going to sit on the rug waiting, as patient as I can, but there is the whole Badger issue.

It's hard to be patient when a Badger has taken over your rug. I'm sure you agree.

Watch Me Run!

The sun has sunshined up our yard for two days! It's a hallelujah miracle! It's a sure sign that spring is really here. The grass is green and tall even though it was just cut last week, the flowers on the plants that Mom has planted (the ones that Olive Badger has not dug up) are starting to bloom and grow and Mom has been in her veggie garden working on weeding.

I'm not one to judge, but that veggie garden seems to be just one giant weed patch.

Spring is in the air and it is in my step. I'm full of energy.

Watch me run!

I have spent a crazy amount of time these last two days running circles in our yard. Mom says, "Get your toy, Emma!" and I pretend like I'm going to get it, run right to it, but I am actually running to fast to get it. I just breeze past it as I continue my lap, around the yard, through the carport, into the driveway, back to the yard.

I'll get the toy on the next round. When I slow down a little. If I slow down. I'm loving the feel of the wind whipping my ears back.

I love to hear Mom laugh and clap for me, it gets me so excited. I can't help but bark my joy.

Watch me run some more Mom!

The Land Of Plenty....AKA Upstairs

In our house we have a baby gate across the top of the stairs.

We do not have a baby.

Yes, dear readers, that baby gate is actually a Beagle gate and it's meant to keep us dogs from going upstairs!

Our kids have bedrooms upstairs and their bedrooms are full of awesome things and scents. One room is perfect for chew toys, according to my dog sisters. I have never been the kind of dog to chew up shoes or dolls. But the other room has crumbs and stale crackers, and that is the room I'm usually in!

As Sarah Beagle and Olive Badger have left puppy hood behind, the Beagle gate is not always closed. If it's not closed, then you can bet your last dollar that I'm sneaking up there as quiet as a Beagle can be.

Which, turns out, is not that quiet. Mom always knows when I'm up there and calls me down.

That's not going to stop me from trying again! One room just had a movie party in it....teenagers having a party equals food left somewhere for me.

Mom says it's not left for me.....but we all know if if I can get it, then that food was meant to be mine!

You Went WHERE Without Me?

When my Mom and Dad left the other night, I stood in the driveway and watched them drive away. I thought they were just going to the store and that's why they didn't take me with them. I've really loved going on rides lately, and I try my best to give sad puppy eyes to anyone who is getting into a car so they might change their dog free trip and ask me to come along.

But being this is my Mom and Dad, and they know I have two places I love to go (the coffee stand or Grandpa Cliff's house), I was positive if they were going to one of those, or even better, both on the same trip, they would let me get into the car....

I ran out to greet them when they got home, as I always do, but when I got close enough to sniff their legs, I could smell where they'd been.

They went to visit Grandpa Cliff without me!!

They smelled of fields and wood smoke and even more damning, they had cookie breath.

Humph.

I was a little put out, but Mom has apologized and there are promises that I can go next time, when they aren't digging up rhubarb or burning brush......I am going to be extra vigilant with walking my family out to the car and I'm going to practice my sad puppy eyes, so hopefully this will not happen again.

I should be the one with cookie breath!

Mom And Dad Return

Our parents went away. They packed their suitcase, left a detailed note for the Kids (detailed I assume, on how to care for two Beagles and one Badger), and they left!

It was a bit shocking. They were gone for days. And days. And days.

Okay, it was only four, but I'm sure they missed us as much as we missed them!

And they came back with gifts for our Kids, but would you believe it? None for us!

Mom suggested that we wouldn't have liked anything from Vegas. It was all pink and purple and sparkly sequins.

Well. I'm not saying it had to be from Vegas. She could have shared her granola bar and I'd have been happy!

I'm just glad they are home. I missed my morning sleep with Mom!

Were You Saving That Cake?

Were you saving that cake, Mom? Sorry! I just thought when you left it on the table all night, that it might have been up for grabs.

I know you covered it with plastic wrap and pushed it far way from the edge, and I will not reveal my secrets of how I got it and how I managed to not eat plastic.

I think it's sufficient for us to know that I did it, and that I am sorry.

Just a little. That darn cake had been tempting me all evening, though the night and into the early morning. There is only so much temptation a Beagle can take!

And really, I was helping you! We both know cake was going to be eaten for breakfast by someone.....I just beat you to it.

Yes, I Do Need The Whole Couch

Not only do I need the whole couch, I need both pillows. One for my front leg, one for my back leg.

And no, I do not feel like sharing. I'm trying to nap here!

To Snack Or Not To Snack

This is My Cousin.....

This is him eating a snack right by our crates.....

This is me giving up and going back to my crate because he has turned out to be a very careful snacker. He dropped one thing on his pant leg and picked it up before we could even sniff it!

Sarah Beagle and Olive Badger are still holding out hope.

Dogs Can Have Facebook Pages?

I just heard that Mark Zuckerberg's dog has a Facebook page. Does that seem crazy cool or what? I could have one too. I would write things like:

"I found something glorious to roll in, but Mom was not cool with it. She made me take a bath."

"I changed my morning nap routine and napped on the chair instead of the couch."

"Pancakes are delicious!"

"Walking with Olive Badger is not as fun as you might think."

"Dad is building a fence. He says it's to keep us in, but I'm choosing to think it's to keep the bad guys out."

But do I really need a Facebook page? Do I want one?

Nah. I prefer to network and connect in real life. If I want to friend someone, you can find me outside barking.

"Hi! Are you a dog? I'm a dog! We can be dogs together!"

Let The Wild Rumpus Begin!

Girls, let's get crazy! Mom is in the shower and we have waited just long enough that she's probably got suds in her hair and won't be able to check on us.

Let's make enough noise that it sounds like we've invited elephants into our house. Let's do things that make loud thumps and bumps. Let's run so fast our claws skitter across the floor as we slide past the bathroom door. Let's bark and howl and all around celebrate in a wild rumpus sort of way!

And let's let it all stop suddenly, no thumps or bumps or claws or barks or howls, with a single hurt dog cry.

And when Mom comes out of the bathroom, wet and worried, let us be sitting on the couch, calm, cool, and collected, with no hint that we've been doing anything but sitting there listening to music.

Well, with only one hint. One Olive Badger, panting, tongue hanging out, is the only evidence that we had a wild rumpus.

Okay, Girls. Same time tomorrow? Meet me when Mom closes the bathroom door!

A Cat Has Trespassed

A cat has trespassed against us.

It dared to rest in our shrubbery. It dared to silently bide it's time, while we trailed it's scent. It dared to not move even a whisker as we barked and growled at it....and let me tell you, we barked and growled quite ferociously. It dared to stay in it's spot, unfazed, unmoving, while we howled and howled.

Until Mom came out to see what the trouble was and then she CHECKED on the cats welfare! It dared to lure our Mom into it's "cute" clutches....to no avail as Mom is firmly on Team Dog. She ascertained that the cat was okay, not injured or sick and told us to leave it alone.

Leave it alone? As if! That cat is going to get the barking of it's life.

Well, that pause for a Mom lecture gave that cat time to stealthy leap off the retaining wall and disappear under a parked car.

That cat was saved from further barks. This time.

Pictures Of Me, Part Two

A few of Mom's favorite pictures of me!