Biggles has recently gained some additional brain cells. We’re not quite sure where he got them from; Susan thinks that maybe they fell out of Beanie’s head and into his during a robust play session.

Whatever their origin, they’ve granted Biggles some new abilities. Firstly, he’s become a master tactician. When gets into a chase with Beanie in our garden, he heads straight for the rear of the shed and lies in wait for Beanie. When she arrives, he tricks her into taking the long way round and quickly legs it round the other side.

Suckered her again!

Eat my dust, Beanie!

Admittedly he sometimes cuts it a bit too close and things don’t work out, but his strategy is sound.

It’s a royal pain in the bum if you don’t factor in Beanie’s remarkable acceleration

His other new talent is more of a problem for us – he can now open all the sliding-door cupboards in our house. It started with a few accidental openings caused by rough and tumbles with Beanie, but then he figured out how to do it at will. On the evening the breakthrough came, I heard some unexpected chewing sounds and found the Bigglet down at the far end of the corridor with a Paint Pod roller in his mouth. I retrieved it and shut the cupboard, but then two minutes later worrying noises summoned me and there he was again, indulging his obsession with the Paint Pod. This repeated three more times before I put an end to it by stapling heavy duty velcro onto the door and cupboard frame. Of course I only protected one of the cupboards, so shortly afterward I found him and Beanie lying on our spare duvet together, busy chewing off all the washing care labels. Yep, he’d figured out that his technique would carry over to the other cupboard. The next day, Biggles seemed to have disappeared from the house for a couple of minutes, until I spotted that the sliding wardrobe door in our bedroom was slightly open. Opening it fully I saw Biggles sitting among Susan’s shoes with a “Yes? Can I help you?” look on his face. I predict that our local Tesco is going to run out of velcro in the near future.

It doesn’t stop there. The other night he opened the door to the kitchen and managed to get his jaws round some very spicy leftovers. His bottom paid the price the next day (ever heard a Beagle singing Ring of Fire?) but I somehow doubt that it’s put him off. All this extra thinking has taken it’s toll on the Biggly boy though. And on Beanie. And on us.

Finally, on today’s tea time walk, Biggles’ new found intelligence somehow prompted a discussion about whether our Beagles truly understand spoken commands. I feel that they do, and decided to put it to the test. As we walked along, I said “stamp collection” in the same voice I use to call them over for a treat, and neither of them responded. Then I said “treat time” and they trotted over expectantly. It was all very encouraging, but then I blew it, because for some reason the spectacularly random “Return trip to Aberystwyth” brought them running. Still, Biggles can now open doors and cupboards, and that’s good enough for me.

It’s generally accepted that Beagle boys are more of a handful than their female counterparts. Certainly Biggles has presented us with challenges we haven’t had to face with Beanie.

The first problem we had was with resource guarding, or more specifically sock guarding. Our little boy developed a major obsession with socks from an early age, and he’d growl and even snap at our hands if we tried to take them off him. A little bit of firm handling from the head trainer at Biggles’ obedience class convinced him that this wasn’t a good way to behave, and though he still appreciates an occasional sock (especially if it’s smelly), he’s now very willing to accept a trade.

We tend to think he’s not as smart as Beanie, but he has learned how to open the tumble dryer and help himself to socks!

The growling and snapping (usually with no or very light contact from his teeth) soon resurfaced in other situations however. Though initially an extremely cuddly boy, he now took a dislike to being picked up and handled which was not very helpful when a vet examination or a nail trimming was required. My gut reaction to this was to be firm with him and make it very clear that such behavior would not be tolerated, but the almost unanimous advice we read was to avoid confrontations, so that’s what we did. As we backed off however Biggles started misbehaving in more and more situations. He developed a kind of passive-aggressive response to anything he didn’t like. It was kind of Gandhi meets Hannibal Lecter; he’d roll over onto his side, raise his upper rear leg slightly and snap at any attempt to approach him. We saw this when we told him to leave the kitchen, to come in from the garden, to go into his crate, in fact pretty much any time we asked him to do something he didn’t want.

We consulted trainers about this and the consensus was that as an adolescent boy, the Bigglet was just getting a bit too big for his boots. He needed to be shown his place in the world, but not by shouting and bottom smacking. Instead,  withdrawal of privileges and symbolic demonstrations of our superiority was the way to go.

About a month ago, we made the following changes:

• Biggles is no longer allowed into bed with us in the morning
• He is no longer allowed to sit on the sofa beside me
• When entering or leaving the house he has to sit and wait for us to go first
• If he tries the bitey-Gandhi routine, we just stand over him and stare him out until he gives up (usually less than 60 secs)

Interestingly these are all the kind of things you see on Caesar Milan’s “The Dog Whisperer” every week, even though the trainers in question don’t subscribe to his theories. According to Caesar’s pack hierarchy model we weren’t being sufficiently strong pack leaders and Biggles had figured he was the boy to fill that role.

By the age of 32, Alexander The Great ruled most of the known world. At the age of 1 year and a few weeks Biggles has lost his bedroom and sofa privileges, but he still has his favorite step.

The thing is, whether you believe Caesar’s theories or not a lot of his advice seems to work, and that’s the case here. Since we’ve been following these simple steps Biggles has once again become an easy going, cuddly little boy. He’s still naughty of course, but then he is a Beagle and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

OK, OK I’ll go into my basket, but I’m still going to give my bed a good seeing-to!

The downside to ordering mountain bikes, dog-to-bike attachements, harnesses etc at the weekend is that someone has to be home to receive all the packages. This meant separate walks for Beanie and Biggles if they were to get off-lead time. This morning Biggles got his walk first with Paul and by the time they got back all of todays expected deliveries had arrived. This meant that Paul could accompany Beanie and I with his camera.

Beanie was very good.

Some of the time she walked to heel

Sometimes she ran on ahead…

..but always she looked back to see where I was…

…and came running the moment I called

We practiced our heelwork to music techniques

Played endless games of fetch

Raided the treat bag

And finished up with a mud feast