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!