A couple of days ago – just as it looked like we were finally going to be rid of the ice and snow – the sky turned grey and down came a fresh layer of the white stuff. In a way it was kind of welcome; it’s way easier to walk on fresh snow than on partially thawed ice, and my bum, back and left knee were still sore from a couple of Beagle-induced falls. Anyway we headed to the beach and set off on our morning walk.
It was quiet, really really quiet, and as the three of us left our tracks in the virgin snow I began to wonder if we were the first on the beach that morning. I quickly concluded that was unlikely given that I’m a lazy git who needs a nuke to get me out of bed, but still, where were the other tracks? Eventually we did find evidence of other walkers, and evidence of.. something else..
The paw prints in the upper half of the shot belong to Beanie and/or Biggles, but who or what left the huge print in the lower half? Last year after a fresh snowfall we ran into a Yeti, clearly this time we’d crossed paths with Big Foot! Beanie & Biggles immediately locked onto BF’s trail and together we set off in pursuit of our prey.
He went that-a-way! Possibly..
The thing is, Beanie and Biggles aren’t quite the ace trackers they think they are. Many’s the time I’ve been pulled along the beach as they follow horseshoe prints that are clearly going in the opposite direction. When I petition them for an emergency re-sniffing they ignore me, instead getting into a squabble about who’s baying correctly (Biggles is certainly the loudest, but I think he’s a bit of a babbler, and so apparently does Beanie). And so it was this time. Our hunt descended into in a big play fight, and by the time I’d broken it up and untangled the leads, the three of us had forgotten all about Big Foot.
OK, so we didn’t find Big Foot, but Beanie & Biggles have made one of my socks big enough to fit him. The initial sock grab was made by Beanie. Biggles is a member of Sockaholics Anonymous and has been on the wagon for some months now (though he has developed a tea towel addiction) but he fell off the wagon spectacularly when his big sister waved my extra smelly foot garment in his face.
By the time the resulting tug of war was over my sock had tripled in length and had numerous holes for enhanced ventilation.
This isn’t the only undergarment that has received some Beagle modifications. Yesterday I became aware that my left arse cheek wasn’t quite as well contained as the right one, and subsequent examination revealed a large ventilation hole in my underpants. If the hole had been any further to the east it could have hampered by ability to deal with those really insistent personal itches.