In many ways, Beanie is our most biddable Beagle. When I tell her to get out of our bed on a morning, she does so without hesitation; if I tell her not to stick her snout in my coffee cup, she will comply (at least until I’m distracted or out of the room); and when it’s time for her nightly tooth-brushing she doesn’t play hard to get, unlike Biggles, who often flops onto his back to and tries to kick the toothbrush away with his rear legs.
Everything works the other way when food is involved however. Biggles is surprisingly respectful at human mealtimes, in fact he sometimes averts his gaze when a human starts eating; it’s as though he daren’t look at the food for fear his instincts will push him to do something naughty.
Beanie on the other hand has absolutely no respect and has to be told in no uncertain terms to keep her distance. Even then, the second you’ve finished your food, she’s on top of you, vacuuming up crumbs. It’s like those insistent sales calls we get from the bank, Sky TV and energy firms when we’re switching supplier; no matter how many times you tell them you don’t want to be hassled, they just keep on calling. They typically refer to these intrusions as “courtesy calls”. In the same vein, I guess you could call Beanie a “courtesy Beagle”; you’re going to get the furry crumb clean-up service whether you want it or not.