Not long after Ricky the Beagle passed on, Beagle Man announced to Mom that he needed another dog. “That’s fine,” Mom said, “as long as you understand one thing. He’ll be your dog. I won’t walk him. I won’t wake up with him. I won’t pick up his poop. And I won’t play with him.” I’m that dog. And for my first three years or so, she stuck to that — absolutely. During that time, to tell you the truth, I’d feel a little . . . uncomfortable when Beagle Man wasn’t around to take care of me. I was never exactly sure of what was going to happen.
Would I get fed? Would I be let out to pee? On those occasions when he had to be away, Beagle Man would beg Mom to throw a few balls to me. Later, when he got home, she’d tell him she played with me for half an hour. Yeah. Five minutes was more like it. But two years ago, things started to change. It was right after the concussion Mom got while she was skiing. From then on, Beagle Man would ski by himself, and Mom would take me for hikes. Well, okay, it would be the exact same hike every time. But it’s a good one! Around Equinox Pond. Really pretty. She throws sticks in the water for me when the pond isn’t totally frozen over. She looks after me, and when I run ahead, I always check back to make sure she’s okay. When we get back to the house, if Beagle Man is still out skiing, she’ll sit on the couch, reading, and I curl up right next to her. She’ll pet me, and sometimes even give me a kiss on my nose. Yup, things have changed. Beagle Man is still The Man . . . but Mom’s all right after all.
Beagle Man always has a lot to say, so I’ll just pipe up in The Duck Dog Speaks whenever I can.
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