All dogs live to eat. Most dogs would be happy to eat — anything — 24/7. The thing that separates my very special beagle from the pack is his resourcefulness in sniffing out the newbie in any given group (the person not used to dogs in general, to Ricky in particular, and hence, the one who’s most likely to leave his/her food unguarded) — and then moving in for the kill.
Here’s how my stealth dog operates.
Let’s say we’re in our vacation house in Montauk, where our three sons feel it’s their god-given right to invite their 1,000 closest friends pretty much every weekend. As a consequence, the eating of food in that house goes on 24 hours a day, whipping Ricky into a constant feeding frenzy.
We’re sitting around the table out on the deck. The regulars are “boxing out” — positioning their bodies in such a way that Ricky can’t make a dive for their plate. And then there’s Jenny. Jenny hasn’t been out here before. Ricky, somehow, knows this. He sits patiently at Jenny’s feet, staring up at her with his big brown eyes. Jenny looks down, oohs and ahhs that “he’s the most adorable dog — ever” and then turns around, left hand coming down to pet him, right hand holding aloft a turkey-with-mayo-and-pickles sandwich on a hard roll.
Vrooom! Like a rocket, Ricky makes a lightning strike at the sandwich, nabs it, then hustles off to a protected corner of the deck, behind the beach chairs, to make short work of his catch. Jenny, his latest victim, is left with her right hand in the air, holding . . . nothing.
As a newbie, at least Jenny has an excuse. Can’t say the same for Hal.
Hal, who has several dogs of his own and who’s a frequent visitor at our Montauk house, loves his Sunday morning brunch. So much so that he’ll make a special trip into Amagansett for the bagels. But on this particular Sunday, the deli is all out — so he continues on to Citarella in East Hampton, where the line is ridiculous. He returns to the house an hour-and-a-half later, and man, is he ready for a feast! Bagles (onion, poppy seed, plain), cream cheese, lox, onions, olives — the works. With Ricky looking on, attentively, Hal slowly, deliberately, painstaking creates his masterpiece, then turns to the fridge for some O.J.
And this is where he screws up. He leaves his handcrafted, award-winning bagel on the edge of the counter, not in the center, where it would be safe. Everyone knows this by now.
I’m out on the deck, not in the kitchen, but I hear Hal’s blood-curdling scream — and I can picture Ricky’s perfectly timed vertical leap, his horizontal head-thrust, and his speedy get-away with the prize bagel clutched in his jaws.
I can’t help smiling. Hey, let’s not blame this on Ricky. This one’s all on Hal. He may be a cagey veteran, but let’s face it — this time he made a rookie mistake.
Since I have had Beagles since 1967, I can easily understand Ricky’s hunger! My Beagles have (stolen) eaten a 1 lb. Hershey’s kiss. He unwrapped it very neatly. Another ate a light bulb (no damage done to her insides)and they all ate frozen hamburgers that were defrosting on the table. They all thought nothing was better than a hot dog with the works, still wrapped and in the bag!!
I think your talking about my beagle. I almost wet my pants reading your article because she is exactly like Ricky. Mary I completely understand my little Boo at frozen apple porkchops that were defrosting on the counter. I don’t think that one holiday goes by with out her eating a tray of fudge or toffee bars. Mind you these things are not set out she is so smart that she can open the frige. Once she ate a pound of cheese and pound of ham. I have to young boy’s and they are quickly learning that they need to push their chair in at the table to hold their food close and my youngest has resorted to sticking his foot out to keep her a good distants away. She is 11 years old and still very sprout. I love her and all the drama that she causes. Loved the article!