I have literally and figuratively grown up with dogs. I shared a post about one of my earlier dogs here a long time ago, and if you are a pet parent, you probably understand this already. Talking about your pets becomes almost inevitable. They become such a part of your everyday life that eventually, talking about them feels like talking about yourself.
So, like every other pet parent who cannot shut up about their dog, here I am.
My almost six-year-old Beagle is the first small dog we have had in the family for a very long time. Before her, there was a little German Dachshund when I was very, very young. I don't actually remember playing with him. I only know that I loved him because there are these incredible photographs of the two of us together, and that's how I know dogs were already a very important part of my childhood.
After that, we went big. Golden Retriever. Great Dane. Boxer. I mean, these are really big dogs. And every single one of them seemed to have absolutely no idea how large they were. My Beagle has inherited that particular quality. Except she seems to have taken it several steps further.
She genuinely believes she is a dinosaur. Especially when the doorbell rings. Or when the vet is trying to give her an injection. Or when food is involved. Actually, food deserves its own paragraph.
She is a living vacuum cleaner. If something falls on the floor, it is gone. It doesn't matter what it is. Crumb? Gone. Vegetable? Gone. Something I am still trying to identify? Gone. Something that absolutely should not be eaten? Already gone. And how much can a Beagle eat? It is genuinely astonishing.
But the walks are probably my favorite part of having her. Dogs generally walk, trot and sometimes run. I know this to be true, the other three I remember growing up with, did all of this! My Beagle however, has introduced me to another category of movement.
Linger. Sniff. Investigate. Sniff again. Move three steps. Stop. Sniff some more. Poop while moving. I had never realized how much a dog could turn a ten-minute walk into an extended field investigation that lasts for 30 minutes at least.
And maybe, at this particular phase of my life, I needed a Beagle. I needed someone to slow me down. To make me stand still. To notice things. To wait. And, apparently, to develop immunity to a lot of loud noise shooting way above normal decibel levels.
Because this girl has at least fifteen different sounds, calls, complaints and emotional barks. My Boxer probably barked about five times in his entire eleven-year life. This one has five different sentences for one doorbell.
And they all seem to mean something. There is the Who is that? The I know someone is outside. The Why haven't you opened the door? The I am personally responsible for protecting this entire house. And the very special Let me tell you what I think about this.
So these are a few classified tales from life with my Beagle. I obviously have many more. But I need to also stop somewhere. I can always write more later!
Any other Beagle parents here? Please tell me this is your story too! 🐶❤️
No comments:
Post a Comment