I'm your friend; trust me

The little pissant's done it again. It makes for good dog fodder for the blog, and he's making it real easy for me to send him down the bunny trail.

Oliver's always poised to run somewhere ... out of the house, into the house, out the garage door.  He's just a runner.

Good thing he's had his shots. Pop opened the door between the house and the garage the other day and he flew through it like a greased pig. Out he ran, his nose to the ground. Mom and pop both hollered and called, but the little turd didn't even look back. Pop went after him, and mom saw a couple of cars dodge him. That's her worst fear that one of us will get hit by a car cuz we're not real smart about that kind of stuff. Well, they aren't. I am, because I spent a lot of time running loose in the Valley when I lived there.

Pop finally got him and brought him home, but he wasn't happy about it. The pissant bit him while he was trying to carry him home. He doesn't like to be picked up.

He's looked over the fence a lot of times and acted like he was going to jump.

The snow is mostly gone now, but Oliver couldn't help but look over the fence every time he could. 

I decided maybe I should check it out, and did, but the other side was not greener and I didn't see a single dog treat. I know I've got a good life here.

Like I said, I checked it out.  Not a Yummy Chummie in sight.

So all I have to say about that is, “I'm your friend, you can trust me. Let me help you.” Yeah. More treats for me.

Na, na, na, na, na, na

The little pissant is in big trouble. The rest of us get in trouble, too, but we just do little things. Daisy likes to chew up paper towels or steal socks or washclothes, but she mostly mouths them and doesn't put holes in stuff. I like to eat things I shouldn't (translate poop). Jade barks too much and is really nasty about sharing food. But this is all regular dog stuff. Mostly, though, we're pretty good. At least I think so.

He's just a devil dog.  Look at those eyes.

Oh yeah, almost forgot. We'll all steal food from the counters or tables if we can figure out how to get it, or team up and double-mug someone in hopes we can steal from their plates. That's all normal Beagle behavior and lots of times it's a game for us. We get to test how smart we are, and how smart our humans are. When we get something from them, we're smarter than they are. Haha. Gotcha, mom and dad.

Jade sleeps alot, and she doesn't usually get in too much trouble, except for barking.  But she's a food thief, too, given the chance.  But that's a proud Beagle trait when we outsmart our humans.

The little pissant (and I don't really say that kindly), has that squeaky, paint-peeling voice; but worst of all, he likes to chew up underwear. Mom keeps her stuff where he can't get to it, but somehow he's figured how to get to pop's. He goes upstairs where papa keeps his dirty clothes and gets into it, pulls it out and chews it up. And I mean, really chew it up and put holes in it so it has to be thrown away. Pop was NOT happy, and hollered at him. Haha. Makes me laugh. I think I'll help him over the fence. Run free, little Beagle, run free.

Next time I see him up at the fence I'm going to act normal like I'm going to sniff his butt.  Then I'll put my cold nose there and that will help him over.  Begone devil dog!!

Stinky Beagles need love, too

I was lying next to mom, sleeping. She suddenly held her nose and said, “stinky Beagle.” Then she hollered upstairs to pop, who was working on the big computer. He just laughed.

Hey, come on.  It's not like I do it on purpose.  It's what you feed me.

Sometimes a Beagle, me anyway, has digestive problems. I can't help it if they feed me stuff that gives me gas. I don't deliberately let it rip. Actually, I don't let it rip at all.  I'm very discreet and quiet about it. The problem is that the food I'm given gives me stinky gas, and even though it's quietly sent out into the area, the smell of it gives me away.

Daisy was wondering, "OMG, what's that smell?  It's making me gag.  And I'm a dog.  I love smelly stuff!!"

Sometimes it happens when I'm lying on the floor next to pop's recliner. He's usually in it scratching my back. I try to hold onto it, but I'm just so relaxed I can't, and it gets loose. If I'm lucky, pop gets blamed for it. That doesn't always happen, like when I was laying right next to mom. I heard her say something about, “silent but deadly.”

Play time in the big house

Oliver likes to play with two balls that are here at the house. Jade and I don't much care about toys, not unless there's food involved, which doesn't happen around here. Daisy sometimes will play with a Kong and chew on it, but she doesn't even care about a ball. Only when Oliver wants to play with them. Then she wants them and takes them away from him.

Poke, poke, poke.

The pissant now has this other nasty habit. He used it on Baxter, the Yorkie, and now he's doing it with me. He wants to play, but mom and pop don't want me running around since I have a bad leg and pop figures I'll break it if I twist wrong. Oliver tries to get me to play and I want to, but I try to sit and ignore him so I don't get hurt. But he pokes me with his nose, and pokes me and pokes me. It's a good thing for him I'm a tolerant kinda Beagle.