Whenever I walk my little beagle – his nose to the ground, his floppity ears swinging left-right, left-right, looking for all the world like Snoopy – I get admiring comments from fellow dog-walkers:
“Oh, he’s the cutest dog I’ve ever seen!” (This right in front of their very own dog, who, presumably they think is fairly cute.)
“Is that a face?! And look at that square head! So handsome!”
“He’s so adorable! Is he a puppy?”
But the one line I hear, more than any other, is:
“My first dog was a beagle. Your dog reminds me of exactly of Toby/Skipper/Tootsie/Ralph.”
I then ask if they ever got another beagle. The answer is always no.
And now I know why.
Ricky the Beagle is my first dog, too. But I got him when I was fifty-something, so I’ve learned all about beagles late in life, the hard way:
There’s nothing he won’t sniff out and eat. Nothing. Last week while we were opening Christmas presents in the den, he took advantage of the chaos and dragged a small package out to the quiet of the living room. Much later, when we finally realized he was missing, we found him gnawing on a delicately carved mahogany wine bottle holder our oldest son had brought home from Buenos Aires – chewed-up wrapping paper scattered all over the rug. (Wood is often a viable second option for Ricky when nothing more tasty is at hand.)
Where food is involved, there’s no mountain too high, no river too wide. One Sunday morning, my friend Hal, who was visiting us, had made not one, not two, not three, but four stops to gather the ingredients for his bagel, which he assembled with loving care, and left, momentarily, on the kitchen counter, with Ricky in the room. You can guess the rest. My dog’s vertical leap, if there’s some lox and bagels as the prize, is Jordanesque.
He’s stubborn as the day is long, and virtually untrainable. From day one of his puppyhood, I used every technique available to let him know he was not allowed in the basement, for his own safety. Seven-and-a-half years later, he’ll still make a mad dash to scoot between my legs if I so much as crack the basement door. One of our dog trainers (Ricky went through several; they all eventually raised the white flag) said that the beagle is 1,000 times more stubborn than most dogs, and that Ricky is 1,000 times more stubborn than most beagles.
He has a one-track mind, and that track is the food channel. You might think he’s sidling up to you for a smooch or a rub, but the real reason? He’s on the scent of the treats in your jeans pocket, or a petrified, long-forgotten Hershey’s bar in your backpack. He could be dead asleep, snuggled on the pillows of his favorite green couch, but if he hears the rustling of a pretzel bag, he’s at my feet like white on rice – just hoping that a crumb will hit the floor.
These flaws aside, Ricky is adorable, gentle, lovable, handsome, noble – the most good-natured creature on God’s green earth. I would literally throw myself in front of a truck for him.
But if I ever so much as mention getting another beagle, just shoot me.
[…] “My First Dog Was a Beagle” – Beagle Man – Connecticut News […]
Never say never. They’re the best dogs there are. And though very stubborn they are not “virtually untrainable”. It takes time and patience, but usually they can be very well trained. But it should also be remembered they are very smart, but not in the way a German Shephard or Golden Retriever is considered smart.
Wouldn’t trade my 2 for anything. 🙂
You didn’t mention “barking”…there’s a beagle that comes to the Milford Dog park.You can hear him bark as soon as his car gets within a block of the driveway -he keeps barking until he’s let out of the car.He’s a sweet dog,just noisy….
Yeah, everyone always talks about the beagle howl, and/or barking. That’s actually not one of my dog’s problems. Not to say he doesn’t have his problems . . .
Yup, I think I know what you mean by “smart” . . .
there is probably a specific diagnostic term for your interpretation of your relationship with Ricky. i can only say…and i mean this in the most positive way…that you are demented.
And I accept that diagnosis, in the most positive way — without debate!