I’m gonna be perfectly honest with you: I usually don’t give small dogs the time of day. I’m not a huge fan of their yappy tough-guy act, and it’s easier to just ignore them. Which is exactly what I’m thinking when Robby’s friends Rob and Charlotte show up at the Vermont house a week ago
with Scout — this skinny, little, black-and-white, 10-month-old pup — who right off the bat goes skittering around the house, bouncing off the walls, and barking up a storm. Obviously, I had to show this rookie who’s the alpha here, so when he got within sniffing distance of my
bowl, I jumped him, growled, snarled — and basically let him know loud and clear: my turf. But I can’t say he looked too terrified. He backed off a little . . . and then came right back at me! Gotta hand it to him, the little fella showed some spunk. He’s pretty damn cute, too: They call him a Jack-A-Bee (Jack Russell and Beagle), with some Smooth Fox Terrier mixed in, and he’s got this nifty brown mask around his eyes. Over the next couple of days we went on a bunch of hikes together around Equinox Pond, one of my favorite
spots. Granted, he had to stay on leash (they don’t totally trust him yet; I remember those days) and he didn’t go in the icy water like me (as I mentioned, he’s skinny as a stick, and short-haired), but all in all, he was good company. Back at the house, I showed him the ropes playing fetch in the snow and ice, and inside we played chase-me,
though he kind of cheated, darting through spaces too small for me to fit. We also found a fun way to play-fight, even though we’re in different weight classes: I’m 60 pounds, he’s maybe 25. Rob and Charlotte headed back to Connecticut early Tuesday morning, New Year’s Day, and took Scout with them. I wasn’t even up yet, and didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. The house got kind of quiet without the little squirt. I hope we get to play again soon.
RICKY THE BEAGLE USED TO HAVE HIS MY PALS COLUMN. I’VE ALWAYS WANTED ONE OF MY OWN. NOW I HAVE IT.
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