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Winter 2010

More Life with Bob the Beagle


By Pat Hamit

Bi-Lingual Bob

We were astonished to learn early on that Bobby comprendes Español. Our good friend to whom English is a second language visits our home on a regular basis. Bob, who is always glad to see her, really cranks up the volume as he welcomes her into our home with unrestrained enthusiasm. You can’t hear yourself think when Bob dials up the volume on his beagle bugle. As I am about to issue an often ignored command for the howling hound to SHUT-UP, our friend tells Bob something is Spanish. Unbelievably he immediately sits down and actually shuts-up. A Marine Corp Boot couldn’t have complied with the order quicker.

Both my wife and I were amazed. That dog has never obeyed either one of us as promptly as what we have just witnessed. I mean, he quit barking and sat down so quick you could actually hear his mouth snap shut, his butt hit the ground and his eyeballs click as he awaited further commands with unwavering attention. Our friend barely notices Bob’s most excellent behavior and goes about her business with my wife.

Waiting for a break in the action between these two women, I finally asked our friend, “Does Bob speak Spanish?” While Beagle Boy continues to sit where she told him to sit, she replies nonchalantly, “Sí, Roberto habla Español.” Then without even drawing a breath she continued her conversation with my wife while Bob continued to sit quietly as instructed.

If there is such a thing as horse whisperer, and I believe that there is, then our friend has to be a Beagle whisperer. Whisperer or not, I think that I need to work on my Spanish.

You are What You Eat

Is there anything he won’t eat? If there is, we have not found it and he will eat some pretty amazing and disgusting stuff – I’ll spare you those details.

Okay, let’s see: bell peppers, pistachios, green beans, rice, lettuce, tomatoes and grapefruit are on the short list of amazing things this dog has gobbled down. I’m standing at the kitchen sink, working over a grapefruit and Bob is sitting there whining for me to share. How do you say quit whining in Spanish? My “be careful what you wish for” plan is to give him some so he will go away and let me enjoy my treat in peace and quiet. Slicing off some grapefruit, I put it in his bowl and he does his Houdini routine, the grapefruit disappears before my very eyes and he’s begging for more.

Unbelievable! What dog eats grapefruit and comes back for more? On the other hand, what could be more politically correct than a fruit and vegetable eating dog? Where did this hound come from, California? Whatever happened to canines being carnivores?

Just like the grapefruit, I’m enjoying a big, purple, juicy plum. It was one of those plums that the sweet juice runs down your arm if you are eating it like an apple. After laying the plum down on the kitchen counter to answer an incoming phone call, I notice the Bobmiester stretching himself out to full length as he explores the scent of what he considers an abandoned snack. His stretch allows him to make a play for the plum and we are off to the races. He gobbles the plum down as he knows I’m moving towards him in a prevent defense mode, but I’m too late. Score one for the Bobster. I’m chasing him through the house yelling: “Chico malo, malo perro, malo perro!” As usual, Bobby is acting like he no comprendos bad boy, bad dog, bad dog. If you are what you eat then his new name should be Plum Bob.

One of Bob’s favorite things to do is to sit on the toilet lid and watch my wife do her morning routine at the sink and mirror. How cute is that, sitting there watching his Pack Leader’s morning routine? We didn’t know there was a hidden agenda in play here.

The Bobmiester’s Pack Leader uses a wedge or pie shaped sponge about the size of your thumb to apply her “face.” At first I thought Bob was some how infatuated by the transformation taking place before his very eyes, I know I am. In truth, he was waiting for his chance to snatch the miniature make-up sponge. Sure enough, he ate it. Rather than relinquish the stolen sponge, he just ate it! First of all, you can’t catch him to get the sponge away from him. Second of all, if it has gotten this far, it’s already too late. The sponge is history. And, the little thief has eaten several since then. Because of this little stunt, we have learned to look for the agenda behind the agenda when it comes to Sponge Bob. No wonder our veterinarian loves us. Nevertheless, he is constantly scouting the bathroom sink in search of make-up sponges. Sponge Bob, how appropriate.

They’re Kissing that Doggone Dog

Our Beagle-whispering friend has a little boy, a toddler, and both he and Bob are the best of buddies. The little boy and Bob often sit next to each other in the middle of the living room floor playing with each other. It really tugs at your heartstrings when the little boy has his arm around Bob and kisses him on the head.

Then there are the grand-girls, especially the short blonde one. She can barely walk by the Bobmiester without kissing the top of his little pointed, pea-picking, head. It is not uncommon to hear her say, “I love you Bob.” Of course, everyone goes “aawwwww.” The oldest granddaughter is a little more restrained but not by much. She thinks that a 30-pound Beagle is a lap dog. For whatever reason, little kids and girls are compelled to hug and smooch on this mutt. What’s up with that, anyhow.

Bob just soaks this stuff up like a . . . . . sponge. This display of attention is disgustingly pathetic and Bob has become such an affection slob. That’s all I going to say on this subject because I can hear Othello’s Iago whispering his famous warning, “beware of the green eyed monster,” – jealousy.

He is no Uno

It was a jaw dropper! Anyone who has ever known a Beagle was dumbfounded to see Uno win the national dog show. Next to our friend, the Beagle whisperer, Uno’s trainer has to be the most gifted person in the dog world. I have given up on trying to teach Bob to shake but my wife is sure he’ll relent and magically execute this command if she just hangs in there. If nothing else, she is persistent while I whisper to myself, “good luck with that.” Searching the English/Spanish dictionary, I suggest that she tell the Bobster to dale la mano – shake hands. Not to be put off just because she thinks it is a dumb idea, I order Roberto to, “dale la mano!” He just cocks his head to one side and gives me that look that seems to say, “Are you kidding me?” I’m thinking that something must have been lost in the translation and my wife is thinking that I’m an idiot. Maybe he just doesn’t understand perfectly good Spanish spoken with a Western Kansas twang. While I may not be a Beagle whisperer, I can assure you that Beagle Boy is no Uno.


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