“Do you think Ricky would prefer the venison, or the kangaroo? Of course he could also have rabbit . . . or duck.”
The speaker is not a waiter at a four-star restaurant; it’s Dr. B., our vet. And Ricky is my beagle. The evening Dr. B offered up these exotic delicacies for our dog, I was having Celeste frozen pizza for dinner. What’s wrong with this picture?
Okay –to be fair to my little doggy, aside from being the world’s most handsome beagle, he happens to be epileptic. His seizures,
when they first appeared, were very freaky — right out of The Exorcist. By now, unfortunately, we’ve become quite used to them. And the “novel protein diet” proposed by Dr. B. is just one more attempt at keeping his condition under control. As it is, he takes more pills than a hypochondriac in assisted living: 3 whites, 1 pink, 2 capsules, 1 vitamin B-1, and 1 muscle pill with breakfast; 3 whites and a pink at 3PM; one more vitamin B-1 with dinner; 2 capsules at 7 PM, and 3 whites and a pink at 10 PM. We don’t have one of those weekly pill boxes for him, but he certainly could use one.
So without question, he does need and deserve all this special attention. But the fact of the matter is, before he was ever diagnosed, this was one pampered pup.
For starters, he sleeps on a throne. He used to sleep in a crate, but our youngest son, Robby — Ricky’s Protector — didn’t think this was good enough for his dog. Robby noticed Ricky was partial to the club chair in our bedroom — the newest, nicest, most expensive chair in our house. So now Ricky sleeps on this chair — which is specially refitted for him every night with two extra-soft New York Mets blue-and-orange fleece throws and his own red velour doggy bed. (Very attractive, as you can see, above.) Btw, he’s carried to this throne by yours truly from whichever random spot in the house he happens to have dozed off.
And since he’s not fond of walking on our own block (he demonstrates this by lying down on the pavement, forcing me to drag him like a pull-toy), I take him for destination walks: We get in the car — his very favorite place in the entire world — and drive to his walking venue, which might be Greenfield Hill Church, Southport Harbor, Burying Hill Beach, or Longshore. Only the finest for my boy. I mean, let’s be honest: This is a dog who gets a treat for peeing outside, pooping outside, and for drinking water. (“Good boy drink water like that.”)
So yes, Dr. B., thanks so much for offering. I think Ricky will have the venison.
I have a beagle/Jack Russell mix,and she is a spoiled princess.In the living room she sleeps on 2 beds-a basket type on top of a pillow type.She loves rides in my car-especially to the Milford dog park.And at night she sleeps on a king size bed
Sounds like you’re the same kind of disciplinarian I am!
Wow, my ultimate wish is that, when I die, I come back as Ricky! Enjoyed the post and look forward to more. Obviously, this is a relationship that deserves more stories.
More to come . . .
I know the chair AND the cute spoiled doggie! Love the stories Hank.
Nice what we’ve done to the chair, huh?
Aren’t dogs the best? I don’t have a Beagle, but I do have three dogs. When my dad was very ill, my black lab, Hooch, sensed something was wrong. He went to the front door of our home and began crying, so I let him outside with the others. He returned with a present which he carefully dropped at Dad’s feet to show how much he cared. His “gift” was a dead squirrel which had obviously been used as a toy for a while before being presented. Hooch sat down and waited for Dad’s praise, certain he’d done the right thing. You could see it in his jowly face, bright topaz eyes, and panting smile. Dad was horrified and demanded I remove the ratty, flattened carcass at once. But Hooch got his deserved praise, and later we laughed at about his get-well gift. Hooch was so certain he’d done something right; the expression on his face and the body language said so. All things considered, I’d take dogs over people any day!
I just came across this site while looking for something else. I love reading about your
beagle in the Westport News having been owned by two. Along with each beagle there
was a German shepherd, all dogs were rescues. Beagle #1 was dumped at 9 weeks for being “a bad dog” who was kept locked in a bathroom. Philip loved everyone and expected the same. He was adored by residents in a nursing home. Beagle #2, was re-named Kirby. Philip was a great floor cleaner and my husband and I decided the next one would be named for a vacuum cleaner. We flipped a coin – Hoover or Kirby. Kirby was 5 and had many issues that resolved themselves when a German shepherd moved in. Kirby’s talent was to howl along to Happy Birthday and he loved performing. He sang in a senior day care center and in a nursing home. They are both gone and the current German shepherd does not tolerate other dogs. A beagle personality is truly unique.
To Faithful Student: Funny — I’ve heard quite a few people saying exactly the same thing! (about taking dogs over people . . .)
To JB: I like what you say about “being owned” by two beagles. You got that right! Ditto with “a beagle personality is truly unique”!
As a beagle owner I identify with everything here and more… I like reading your stories, Hank, it’s almost like beagle-owner therapy. I think beagles demand being spoiled because I had no intention of spoiling mine and now I am completely and utterly dominated by him (and have to admit, I sort of don’t mine because he’s so damn cute!). Can’t wait to read more!!!
Yeah, sometimes I say, “NO!” — very sternly. And then I feel guilty. And then I give in to whatever Ricky wanted . . .