Do I Know What Time It Is?

Do I know what time it is?  Mom, Dad, please.  The question is really do you know what time it is?

I'm dancing around, giving you soulful puppy eyes, sitting pretty and all you can say is, "Emma, do you know what time it is?"  A ridiculous question if I ever heard one, because we all know that I know what time it is.

It's breakfast time!  Like I've been trying to tell you for the last 10 minutes!  

I can barely contain myself as you slowly dish up my food, I sit but I don't want to, and now, 10 seconds later, I'm finished.  I'm going to go snoop around my sister's bowls to see if they forgot to eat a piece or two and count down the hours until lunch.

Oh, The Tummy Ache

Yesterday I was laid up all day with a sick tummy ache.  I know, I know, it was my fault for eating something I shouldn't have.  My Mom and Dad made guesses as to what it could be, but I remained mum on the subject.

It is sufficient to say I'd get in trouble if they knew what it was.

By evening, I was feeling better.  Hungry even.  I ate my dinner and then felt like I might need a snack as we watched the new episode of 'The Walking Dead'.

So of course, I headed for the kitchen garbage.  I still wasn't in tip top condition, though, and wasn't as stealthy and silent as usual, and Mom caught me.

She was not happy.  I was not happy.  I went to bed without my snack.  It was very sad.  Sure, it might have given me a tummy ache, but that is a risk I am always willing to take!

Ohmygosh Ohymygosh
     Oh. My. Gosh.
Did you see that?
What was that?
A cat? A bird? A threat to all civilization?
     No, a squirrel.
It was right here in this grass.
Here.  Sniff, sniff.  here.
     Sniff, here too.
It ran up this tree.
      This tree?
      This tree.
      Sniff, sniff.
      Yes, this tree.
Do you see it?
High up in the branches?
     No, me neither.
If I run over here and look up?
     No.  Still can't see it.
You run over here and look up.  Nothing?
You stay here and I will go inside and sit on the couch and stare out of the window at the tree.
     Okay.  We'll both go back inside and sit on the couch and stare out of the window at the tree.
          Might as well be comfortable while we stake out this trespassing squirrel.
                  Besides, how fast could he be?
Not faster than us leaping off the couch and running outside......

Oh.  He is that fast.

Caught!

In the mornings, I love it when my family makes their lunches.  Dad always drops a cracker or two for us, and while the other members of my family don't, I am always there waiting, hoping, wishing, for them to drop something too.

The hardest mornings are the ones like today, when my brother and his friends are literally scooping out spoonfuls of peanut butter and eating them right in front of me.  He knows I love peanut butter more than anything!

This morning he makes a mad dash into the dining room, with a spoon of peanut butter and tells Mom he can't eat it all, what should he do? And she told him to just set it on the kitchen counter, she would use it for her lunch.

He set it down and ran out the door to go to school.

Aha!  I saw my chance and I seized it!

And that is how Mom walked into the kitchen to find me with my feet on the counter, licking the peanut butter spoon.

In my defense, he did leave it right on the edge of the counter.  He either wanted me to have it or he was taunting me with it.

Either way, I win!  Peanut Butter, it's what's for after breakfast snack!

My Business Is Good

I consider myself to be in the business of sniffing.  I have side businesses in eating, napping, barking and sneaking.  Yes, I sneak.  I sneak upstairs when anyone forgets to close the dog gate.  I sneak into the kitchen to tip over the garbage can.  I sneak into Mom's room and make myself cozy on the pillows.  I sneak outside to  lie in wait for the mailman.

But my biggest business is sniffing, and since we've been on a walk shortage (Mom was sick and then her bad knee started behaving very badly) the times we do get out to walk, we are overwhelmed with things to sniff!

Sure, it's the same routes we always walk, but I can't tell you how many people have walked by!  Or other dogs!  Or cats or birds or I don't even know what that scent was, but it was awesome!

I'm in the business of sniffing, and my business is good!

I only wish Mom wouldn't rush us.  She keeps insisting on actually walking, when I just want to stand and sniff every single blade of grass to make sure I don't miss anything.  She says that isn't walking, but I insist it's all part and parcel of this wonderful thing called walks!

I Was Locked Out

In the early morning, there is a brief period of time when the laundry room door is open, and us girls can use the dog door to go outside.  Dad lets us out of our crates, and one of us usually makes a mad dash for the outdoors.

The door stays open while Dad is home.  When he leaves for work, he closes the door, because we have been known to bark at 5:30 AM and Dad does not want Mom to have to get up that early to whisper yell at us to get back in the house.

I ran straight for Mom and bed this morning, like I usually do.  I was the first girl to get on bed, and my spot was waiting for me.  I settled down against the curve of Mom's hip, content to feel her pat my back.  But after awhile, I decided I actually had to go outside.

I got up, ran outside and was quietly enjoying my early morning solitude, when horror of horrors, Dad left!  He left and shut the door so I couldn't get back inside to Mom and our warm bed!  I scratched at the front door, like I used to do in the old days, before a dog door, but Mom didn't get up right away.

Mom says that isn't true.  She says as soon as Dad left, and I wasn't in bed, she was pretty sure I was locked out of the house.  When I scratched the door, I wasn't patient enough for her to get to it, peek out to make sure it wasn't a raccoon (that happened once before my time but Mom has never forgotten and never opened the door to scratching without taking a look-see first).

She went around and opened the laundry room door, and I have to tell you, all though I'm pretty sure I won't tell her, I was never so happy as when I saw Olive Badger run out the dog door.  She knew Mom was looking for me, so she came out to look too.  I ran through the swinging door, and got halfway to the bedroom, before I stopped to look at Mom.

Come on, Mom!  The bed is getting cold and I'm ready to go back to sleep.  She just had to wait for Olive Badger to come in, then she shut the door after counting 1-2-3 dogs and we settled in for a few more minutes of sleep.....which turned into hours actually, but Mom agrees, the extra sleep was very nice!

Tea For Four

Playing tea party is a delicate balance of trying to be polite while being terribly disappointed that it is only pretend food and nothing but air in the fancy cups.

But play I will, when my cousin comes over to visit and gets out the brass tea cups and starts pouring tea and giving me some.

Not just giving, but assisting in lifting the cup to my mouth.

Olive Badger was invited to the party, but she was suspicious of all of it and ran away. I was kind with my clear disinterest after I discovered the cup was empty, and my lack of participation  turned the little guy's attention to Sarah Beagle, who sat there and revealed in all of his attention.

  So, it's tea for two, then?  Sounds good to all involved!

A Tall Tale Of The Downed Tree

The other day Mom led us across the street at a corner where we usually go straight, and around bend we usually don't see, and down a side road that was full of new smells.  The girls and I were so thrilled!  

But as we were heading to an even better smelling field (a local park), a downed tree blocked our way!  Well, maybe it wasn't a whole tree exactly....but it was sizable branch.  Right smack in our path.  At first, Sarah Beagle and I were excited, but as we got closer and smelled it, we were not happy.

Olive Badger came over to sniff it too, but it was really Sarah and me who raised concerns.  Where had it come from?  Why was it here?  And why did it smell so scary?  Our back fur was sticking straight up, and we were stiff legged as we stalked around it.  Mom tried to get us to go, but we weren't budging.  

Something was not right in the land of Beagles.

Then, we heard it.  A weird noise, not quite human, not quite animal, not quite able to pinpoint where it came from, but we all heard it.  Our ears were at attention, and Mom was looking all around.  The noise happened again, and Mom said it was probably just the wind in the trees.  Or maybe a bird.

If anyone knows birds (and hates them with a passion) it is Olive Badger.  She can spot a bird from a mile away.  But right then, she was not hearing a bird.  She was not a raving maniac on the end of the leash, which is usually how she responds to birds.

Not a bird.  All right.  Let's get out of there!  We ran up the steps and out of the park and breathed a huge sigh of relief when we were back on the sidewalks of town we know and smell regularly.  

Was the tree branch and the noise connected?  Mom says no, but I've noticed we haven't been back that way since!

Walking In The Rain

Whose bright idea was this anyway?

Oh, right.  All four of us.  Mom wanted to walk, and we got excited when she put on her shoes, and no one (except Olive Badger and she doesn't count because she loves the rain) had bothered to notice that it was raining.  Pouring.  The old man is snoring.

I was feeling chipper and the rain seemed invigorating, and Mom was feeling like a little bit of rain wasn't going to hurt anyone, so we took off.

Half a block into it, I think we all knew this was going to be a soaking.

Even with cutting our walk to just a mile, it was a long, wet mile.  And cold!  There is such a difference between walking in the rain in August, and walking in the rain in February.  The first three blocks were the best.  Rain hadn't soaked into coats or fur, and it was refreshing!  After the three blocks, we turned a corner, literally, and I don't know if it was the wind or just the realization that we had committed ourselves to a full mile walk and there was no shortcut home, but the joy of walking in the rain disappeared.

It was more like a death march.

Mom has quirked her eyebrows at me, but it was.  She should know.  She was the one dragging me through it all.  My reward once we got home was pretty sweet, though.  Goldfish crackers.

Almost worth a death march just for those cheesy, golden fish!

Someone's Been Reading My Blog

And she's sitting in my cozy spot of warm laundry right now!

Olive Badger, stealing my good idea!

She says she isn't into reading much, but she never got into the clean clothes until after I wrote about it.

Hmmm.

I Should Be Less Discriminating

I should be less discriminating in my garbage eating.  If I wasn't so picky, I'd have gotten all the garbage eaten up and Mom would never have found Sarah Beagle and I gorging ourselves.  The only reason Olive Badger wasn't outside with us is that she was laid up with a tummy full of garbage already.

I would like to point out that thanks to our snow storm last week, it's been two weeks since garbage pick up and the full to overflowing can practically insisted we tip it over and investigate.

Mom says that sort of investigation is not okay, ever, even with delightfully wicked smells that beg to be sorted out.  The girls and I will respectfully disagree with her on this, but Mom laid down the lay and set up a booby trap so we can't get into the garbage again.

Well, we could.  If we wanted to.  That rake laying on top of the can is not that scary.  Just a little scary!

Two Dogs and An Acquaintance

We are a three dog family.  We have three crates lined up in the kitchen, and no, Sarah Beagle and I are not upset that our crates are beige and Olive Badger's crate is pink and pinker.  Our crates are bigger and do not smell like pee.  We have three leashes, three dishes, and three different spots to curl up next to Mom in bed.

But one of us has suddenly decided that she should bark and howl and carry on at 4:30 in the morning.  After our holiday bouts with illness, Mom or Dad jump out of bed to check to make sure all three of us dogs were okay and not sick.  We're fine.  I'm barely awake, but I'm fine.

We've just got an agitator in the midst.

Sarah Beagle might not seem like the sharpest tack, but she's figured out that barking brings Mom and then she's let out of her crate and if she's quick enough, she can get into Mom and Dad's bed and settle in.  It's worked for awhile, but now Mom and Dad are wise to her and have been ignoring her.

Which has only succeeded in making her crank up her howls, making Mom have dark circles under her eyes, and Dad giving Sarah Beagle looks of pure ire.  Luckily Sarah noticed and was silent this morning.  I hope it continues.  We were on the edge of being a two dog and an acquaintance family!

I Had Just Gotten Cozy

One of my favorite days of the week is the day Mom does laundry.  She has this rule about folding laundry as soon as it comes out of the dryer and she never lets a load of clothes sit in the basket.  Often, she dumps it all out on the couch or the chair and folds it while she watches TV.

My favorite part comes when Mom dumps it, then quickly fills that basket with dirty clothes and loads the washing machine.  While she's doing that, I claim my prize spot, right in the middle of the pile of warm, clean clothes.  Or towels.  Or anything fresh from the dryer.  I'm in there in the second Mom isn't looking, and I am making myself the best darn nap spot in the world.  

At least, I am until Mom comes back.  Then she makes me move and I do it as slowly as I can, just in case she feels guilty and changes her mind and lets me stay.   After all, I had just gotten cozy.  A short nap wouldn't have been too much to ask!

Mom says it would.  

Beagle Fans Are Very Friendly

I have noticed in my jaunty walks out and about, that if a person is a Beagle lover, you will have no qualms about talking to a complete stranger who is walking two Beagles and a Badger.

You won't hesitate to call down from your second floor balcony to have a chit chat in the early morning to discuss how good looking we Beagles are. You will slow your bike down to a very wobbly crawl so you can let us know you've got a Beagle at home. You will walk past us with your big, non Beagle dog to tell us how fat your Beagle is at home.

You will pause in your hike to ask if we Beagles are the baying kind. When we meet on the sidewalk, with you walking your Beagle, and us walking our Mom, you will comment on how wonderful Beagles are. You will come over to us while we are camping and strike up a conversation that leads us to learn that your Beagle and myself, Emma Beagle, are actually related and can trace our roots back to the same home. I had thought that old girl was exceptionally lovely.....she looked just like me!

The only downside to all this Beagle love is that we aren't all Beagles. Good thing Olive Badger isn't too aware of that. She basks in the glow of Beagle adoration, confident that while she isn't a Beagle exactly, she is a lovely Badger and all Beagle Fans notice her too, but don't say anything because they don't want to hurt any Beagle feelings.

Sarah Beagle and I have agreed that we will let her keep on believing that! 

Olive Badger Refuses To Share

Christmas was, as expected, deliriously wonderful!

Christmas dog treats stuffed in our stockings!

Three new squeaker toys!

Three new soft toys!

All three were commandeered by Olive as soon as we go the wrapping off.

Here Olive is being told to share......

 And here she is clearly not listening.

 I thought she might learn to share after the newness wore off.  

She has not.  

Here she is on Mom's bed with all three toys, all of which she had crammed into her tiny little mouth!

 I think that might be a feat worthy or Ripley's Believe it or Not.

 Here she is refusing to let Sarah Beagle have one toy.  One. 

It might look like it's a game of tug of war, but trust me, I was there.

It wasn't a game where Olive Badger is concerned.

The good news is I've got a Dad who loves to play fetch with me.  He just takes up any old toy he wants and throws it to me and doesn't let Olive take it from us.  

He's my Hero!