I’m happy to report that Beanie has almost completely recovered from her most recent misadventure. She’s got a spring in her step again, so much spring in fact that Susan’s desk is under constant threat from shock-and-awe Beagle raids. About the only physical reminders of her illness are the shaved patches on her forearms, but even they’re slowly getting re-furred.
Beanie’s new orange fox toy has already done its fair share of high speed tours of the garden
She is however unusually clingy and I’ve got to be honest, I’m quite enjoying it. If I pick my moment carefully I can get some really soppy cuddles that the Beanie of old would never have tolerated. They don’t last long (the record thus far is 20 seconds) and afterwards she usually has to regain her street-cred by trying to hump Susan, but still, I’ll take what I can get. She’s even been more controllable on the beach during offlead romps, though Biggles is trying hard to fix that and I think he’s likely to win. The only downside to all of this is the thought that it could be happening because she felt abandoned during her stay at the vet. As much as we love her, we’ve often joked that Beanie doesn’t care who she’s with as long as she’s getting regular food and a sofa to stretch out on, but maybe there’s something more than cupboard love there after all. That said, if either Susan or myself were to be struck down by a heart attack on a walk, I’m pretty sure Beanie would see it primarily as an opportunity to raid our pockets.
Mercenary Beagle? Who? Me?
Another change since Beanie’s illness is that Biggles has expanded his passive vocabulary. Like many dogs he knows about “walkies” and “biccies”; he also knows that if he acquires a sock he can trade it for a “nice thing”, and that he’s got to be ever watchful for a “pussycat”. Recently though he’s learned that “creme fraiche” is definitely worth an urgent departure from the sofa.
Even if you’re asleep you should keep on ear open for any mention of creme fraiche
Strictly speaking he’s never actually had true creme fraiche, but that’s how we jokingly refer to the dollop of natural yoghurt that’s been on his kibble ever since Beanie finished her course of antibiotics. And it’s good stuff, because no matter how hard he tries to obey the “Wait” command when his bowl is set down, some of that white stuff mysteriously ends up on his nose before he gets the OK to chow down.