Legend of the Beagle

Mark and I are having a debate about Oland, our new foster dog. Mark thinks his bark sounds like "BORT", and I think it sounds like "ROOOO". Either way it's a classic Beagle bay - you know what I mean if you've ever heard one in action.


It's only been three days and Oland definitely does not know the rules yet, nor should he be expected to after such a short period of time. I sure wish he did, though.

I was reorganizing the cleaning supplies/animal supplies closet today to put a box of Oland's donated dented canned dog food away. I kept a few out for immediate use and emptied half the closet out in order to make room for the box in the back and at the bottom. Oland kept coming around and getting into everything I had pulled out, and then got hyper and thought it was a game whenever I sent him away. Suddenly, in a big crunchy wave, he sent his entire 35 pound bag of dry dog food spilling across the hallway floor.

Ugh.

I got it cleaned up, put the box of canned food in the back of the closet, put a bunch of boxes neatly on top of it, put the remainder of stuff back in front of the pile of boxes, and went to the kitchen to put away the few cans I had kept out.

On top of one of the cans was a fresh drip of wet dog food. I had none opened at the moment.

Crap.

I went back to the closet, hauled out the stuff at the front, lifted all the boxes off of the canned dog food box, and pulled off the lid. I inspected every dented can and finally found the leaking one. It smelled bad. I then put the lid back on the box, piled a bunch of the other boxes on top of it AGAIN, put the rest of the stuff back in front of the boxes AGAIN, and walked away from the hall closet with my blood pressure rising.

I left the dogs in the living room and went to our mudroom to do some re-arranging and spring cleaning. I was putting away our scarves and mittens to make room for spring things and could hear Oland snuffling around the closed mudroom door. After a minute he stopped snuffling, and I started hauling out gardening gear.

Then I heard dishes rattling on the kitchen counter. I walked swiftly but quietly to the kitchen and caught the foolish Beagle red-handed with his front paws up on the counter inspecting our dishes with his nose.

I immediately beat him to within an inch of his life, hog-tied him, and stuck him in a sack in the corner.

JUST KIDDING.

I took him down to the river and threw him in.

I'M STILL KIDDING.


It sure will be nice when he learns some rules.