Peeing as a pastime

Dogs like to pee on things, particularly us boys. When I pee, I've always liked to try to make it count. I never was one much for marking my turf, although now that the little pissant is here I do spend some of my precious peeing time spreading my urine over his. After all, this yard was mine first, and I intend to keep it mine.

Sometimes ya just gotta mark something after someone else has tried to claim your space.

I've always tried to use my pee in a meaningful manner. I pee on pop's ladders when they're in the yard, I pee on mom's lilac bushes in the back yard, and I pee on pop's shed where he keeps the lawnmower.

The backyard has one special place that I consider the holy grail for my pee … it's pop's deer decoy. During the winter it was buried so deep in the snow I didn't think it would ever reach a point where I could get at it again.

I am not intimidated by some old deer decoy although it is bigger than I am.  There still seems to be a lot of snow.

I kept checking to see if the snow was still deep.

I looked behind the decoy to see if I could maybe get back there and pee.  No luck yet.

Finally, I'm thinking I can get to it, if mom would let me out there. The snow is nearly gone from the back yard, and the deer is standing in its fullblown glory, waiting for my meaningful, golden stream. 

Oh mom, please let me into the backyard.  The decoy is calling my name.

Pop got home last night.  He let us into the backyard.  Mission accomplished.  I beat the little pissant, too.  He never got a shot off.  It was all mine!!

I think peeing should be an olympic sport.

Sleep, naps; it's what we're about, next to food

We need lots of sleep and we all have favorite places during the day. Daisy likes to go upstairs away from everyone if she can, Jade likes to sleep on pop's lap when he's in the recliner, and Oliver and I like to sleep next to mom on the couch or loveseat. Usually I'm always there. Sometimes Oliver feels he can't get next to her because there's not enough room. He's too nervous. He needs to chill and relax, but don't think that's ever going to happen. He's just the odd dog out.

He really is an odd duck, but he's not so bad.  He's getting better although I think he might be peeing in the house once in a while, although I've never caught him. 

During television time, pop likes to watch hockey and mom likes to watch NASCAR. That's a new thing for her since she just went to her first race in Florida with friends in February.

One of mom's favorite drivers is Danica Patrick, who drives a lime green car.  Mom picked her because, of course, she's a female, and because her car is lime green. This is pit row with Danica heading back out to the track.

It's kind of nice that she sits and watches something. Usually she's up and down, up and down, and it makes for a lot of disturbances for me when I'm trying to sleep. Now I can just lay down and get a good morning or afternoon rest.

Actually I can sleep pretty much anywhere, anytime.  But I prefer to sleep next to mom.  She keeps me warm.

Bear bait

I know pop loves us. He gives us treats all the time. Sometimes he gives us green beans (cuz of the fat Beagle who isn't fat anymore), sometimes he tosses little pieces of dogfood down from upstairs and watches us circle like sharks trying to find them all. He gives us these treats for our teeth, and even the wonderful Yummy Chummies. (Mom should have bought stock in that brand since we eat so many of them and the fish oil, too.)

We all behave very nicely, and sit waiting (impatiently) for our green beans.  They're yummy and healthy as long as mom and pop wash the salt off of them if they're the canned ones.

Pop likes to hunt, and while he's killed lots of stuff with a gun, his real love is bow and arrow hunting. He's gotten all kinds of animals, and a few of those dead heads are on the walls here. He's also had his motorcycle custom painted with pictures of dead things. Yuk. Well, I shouldn't say that because I really like to roll in dead things. It makes me smell exceptionally good, I think.



Mom and pop saw this bear along Turnagain Arm and stopped to take photos.  Pop said this was a small bear, a couple years old.  Pop is very smart and knows his wildlife.

The reason I put the bear photo in my blog is because the other day I started to wonder about this hunting thing. Pop has said we Beagles are nothing but bear bait. When I heard that mom and pop had seen this bear on their motorcycle ride, I started wondering if that were true. Would he take us out to try to bait a bear?

 

I'm wondering about what pop's thinking.  Would he do it?  I'd be very disappointed in him.  But I know mom would protect me cuz I'm her handsome boy and she loves me almost best.

But I think I'm going on a diet.  Let the fat girl win that contest.

Yep, let the fat girl win; besides she'd be easy to catch because she sleeps a lot and can't run as fast as I can.

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.