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Fall Issue 2010

More Bob the Beagle

by Pat Hamit

Trick or Treat
October 31 2009 - Halloween is Bobby’s birthday and he will be turning two. The constant doorbell ringing from the visiting ghost and goblins had him somewhat stressed out. Bob, like me, does not particularly care for things that upset his normal routine. We are both creatures of habit and that is the way WE like it!

The Bobster’s pack leader, my wife, decided to walk along with the grandkids as they canvassed the neighborhood in search of a sugar high from cavity inducing goodies. She thought it might have a calming effect on both of us if she took Bob along on his leash. It didn’t take Bobby long to figure out that this Halloween thing is a heck of a deal.

One way or the other, most of our neighbors know the Beagle Boy. Much to his delight, generous offers of various treats were to be had, especially when they discovered that it was his birthday. They may have been trying to induce a diabetic coma since most of the neighbors know Bobby from his hound dog howl. The pack leader was able to control Bob’s sugar intake but there were reports of treats of dog biscuits and cheese. As always, life is good if you are the Bobmiester.

By the way, Bob went “trick or treating” as his hero Snoopy. I was thinking Cujo might be a better choice but then nobody asked me.

Pie Boy’s Dilemma
November 2009 - Of all the holidays, Thanksgiving is the best. Great food followed by wonderful pies shared with the company of good friends and family. A house never feels more like a home than when the annual fall feast smells emanate from the kitchen. The best part is always the pies. Nobody loves pie the way I do.

The day before the big day the Pack Leader is busy baking pies. A bourbon-pecan-pumpkin pie that she saw on the Rachel Ray television show intrigues her and one of my main jobs in this house is to encourage culinary matters such as this. The end product of this new recipe looks wonderful and a double stuffed cherry pie accompanies it. Oh boy! My olfactory senses are working overtime. I wonder if this is what heaven is like? The anticipation is agonizing.

Now its Thanksgiving morning and we are preparing to trek our way to the far western edge of Kansas for the family dinner with my Sis. I’m carrying a load to the pickup when my wife, at the other end of the house, hears me yelling: “BOB! You @z#x&*ytZg#&$so&so!!!.” What I really meant to say, in my best Beagle Whisper voice was: “Roberto, Yo Chico malo, malo perro, malo perro!” (“Bob! You bad boy, bad dog, bad dog!”) Somehow it just didn’t come out that way.

What I witnessed was Beagle Boy standing on his hind legs, stretching full length so that his head is slightly elevated above the dining room table. With his head tilted at an awkward angle, he is well into eating the bourbon-pecan-pumpkin pie. Upon hearing what sounded like a combination of an epitaph and epileptic fit, he wisely retreats to the sanctuary of his kennel. While licking the pie off of his chops and believing that he made good his escape, the Pack Leader arrives at the scene of the crime. That’s when things got ugly.

I don’t believe that I have ever heard Bob’s roots, heritage and pedigree so thoroughly called into question. Once again the Bobmiester has allowed his hound dog nose to get his Beagle butt into trouble. He has really done it this time! Pie-boy’s chastising went on long enough for me to get over my own disappointment. By now I’m feeling sorry for the cowering little pooch with bourbon on his breath. That is, until I realize that I’ve been shorted my share of a greatly anticipated pie. After the Pack Leader’s rant simmers down, I feel compelled to add that what she said goes double for me, so there!

Of course this story is just too good to keep to ourselves. I sent out e-mails about the pie-eating saga and this is what I received in return: “Way to go, Bob! Life is short so eat the pie first!” Co-incidentally, that just happens to be the Bobster’s life’s philosophy but thank you ever so much for the encouragement.

And, my favorite one, “Bob, you devil you.....I’m sure that to your way of thinking, if the pie is that close to the edge of the table, then it must be for me.....me......me......me.” I responded to this one with, “What you said is probably very true, but the Pack Leader was still mad.... mad.... mad! BUT, the dog thought the pie was good....good...good!” I have to conclude that we would have had better luck looking for sympathy in the dictionary rather than from our friends. As it turned out, everyone enjoyed the double stuffed cherry pie and the story about Pie-boy’s latest escapade.

How Does He Do That
In many ways Bob continues to be a source of wonder to me. He has to investigate every single sack that comes into the house. Being the eternal optimist, he is always 99.9% certain that there is something in the bag for him. We all know that this dog does not suffer from self-esteem issues. When by chance there is something in the shopping bag for the Bobster, he likes to get the prize, toy or treat out of the bag by himself. Lay the bag on the floor and stand back, he is going in. He will immerse himself into the sack as he focuses on retrieving his prize. What emerges from the shopping bag is a happy Beagle. The “happy dance” that follows is a site worth seeing. Beagle Boy will hold a new rawhide chew bone up as high as his head will allow and prance around the house as he shows off his latest prized possession. The good news is that he’ll be busy for the rest of the day turning that new bone into yuk.

Have you ever noticed the wag of a dog’s tail? Bob’s tail, because of the white tip that usually flies like flag, is prominently noticeable. Like all dogs, he can really make that tail go, usually from side to side but sometimes in a circle. It is really funny to watch him wag his tail in a circle. But, I really have to laugh whenever he wags the just the very tip of his tail while the rest of that appendage remains still. How does he do that? Try wiggling your finger from the fingernail to just the first joint without moving the rest of your finger. I can’t do it and I’m at a loss to figure out how he does it. The tip of the tail wagging is usual a sign of anticipation. This phenomenon occurs when he is focused on waiting for his dinner, a treat or something good for him in a shopping sack.

Rummaging in the Toy Box
December 2009 - Christmas was extremely good to Mr. B. Between the neighbors, friends and the grandkids he made quite a hauling of chew toys, rawhide bones and treats. Frankly, I’m not sure that Pie-boy was all THAT good but that is beside the point. Whoever makes up that Christmas list probably should have checked it twice. His stuff has been put into a basket that serves as his toy box. Most mornings and every evening he rummages around in his toy box looking for his favorite toy of the day. Bob will take everything out in order to get to the toy he wants. This process results in a pile of chew bone ends and other assorted dog toys scattered around the vicinity of the toy box. Meanwhile the Bobster is happily trotting off to play with and chew on the toy du jour.

This begs two questions: which one of us is going to pick that stuff up and what is the deciding factor in his selection process? I have a 50/50 chance of correctly guessing the answer to the first question and I’m completely clueless about the second one. My wife gets a little put out with me when I tell her, “I think Bob made a mess but I didn’t see anything.” You know, selective eye sight will get you a doctor’s appointment about as fast as selective hearing.

 


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