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!