MY PALS: Hank

When Ricky the Beagle used to write this column, he had a good friend named Frankie — a Dachshund.  (He even wrote a MY PALS post about him — “Frankie & Roxy.”)  Frankie’s still around, and I’ve met him once or twice, but now I’ve got my own Dachshund pal, whose name just happens to be . . .  Hank!  You should have seen this little guy when I first met him on the beach a couple of

weeks ago: I was fetching the green ball in the waves (I know — what else is new?) when I look up and see what looks like some piece of of white tumbleweed blowing across the sand in my direction.  When it gets closer, that tumbleweed turns out to be Hank!  Next thing I know he’s running dizzying circles around me, like a wind-up toy with a missing “off” switch.  And then when his dad starts flinging my green ball down the beach, this little ball of fluff actually tries to beat me to it!  Obviously, he doesn’t have a prayer on those mini-legs of his — though he did get to the ball before me one time when I couldn’t locate it.  He wasn’t able to get his jaws around the thing to bring it back, but respect to him: He may be small, but he’s got tons of heart.  Oh, and another thing he’s got: his own Instagram account (@hanktheefrank).  Come to think of it, my next-door Vizslas, Grace (see MY PALS: Grace) and Gwen, each have their own account, too.  I brought this up with Beagle Man, and he told me I don’t need one, since I’m in most of his posts.  I checked it out, though, and lately I’m seeing way more grandsons than Duck Tollers . . .

RICKY THE BEAGLE USED TO HAVE A MY PALS COLUMN.  I’VE ALWAYS WANTED ONE OF MY OWN.  NOW I HAVE IT.