Poppy celebrated the end of her 10 day post-op fast from roughhousing by getting right back into it; no warm up, no bum sniffing preliminaries, just straight to straddling Monkey the wrong way round and pulling his tail. If she was shocked by how much bigger and stronger he’s become over those ten days, she didn’t show it, but the play was noticeably more balanced.

During Poppy’s convalescence her brother Monkey didn’t just get bigger and stronger, he also got better at controlling his pee factory, but that progress was won at the cost of many washing machine cycles. He peed on the floor, he peed on his toys, he peed in his crate and on one trip to the vet for a checkup for Poppy, he peed on Susan’s lap (to their shame, neither Beanie nor Biggles ever managed that one). It was very frustrating; he’d have a few days where his pee habit would seem to be improving, and then there’d be an absolute whiz-fest. Eventually we discovered why this was happening:

1. Monkey has not one, not two, but three bladders. I’m confident of this because I’ve seen him create two large puddles on the patio and deck in quick succession, yet still manage to wet the hall carpet just five minutes later.  All three bladders must be purged to avoid an accident.
2. Sending Monkey out into the garden at some crazy early hour in the morning with the instruction “go do your business” is no guarantee that the business in question will actually be done. The responsible humie must don clothing, shoes and a jacket and accompany Monkey outside with a torch to obtain VPC (Visual Pee Confirmation) in triplicate. Failing to do so leaves Monkey at risk of being distracted from his primary mission. There could be a poo to snack on, a plant that urgently need pruning, or even better a big pool of rain water to guzzle down to refill those extra bladders of his.
3. Doing the pat-down test on the bed of the crate is not a reliable method of detecting prior in-crate pee accidents. A resourceful Beagle boy such as Monkey is entirely capable of peeling up his bedding to reveal the plastic tray beneath, peeing onto that tray, then dropping the bedding back in place to hide the evidence.

Monkey caught me out with #3 for a good couple of nights before I solved the riddle of how his bed could feel dry, yet his crate (and the little boy it contained) could smell vaguely of pee.  We concluded that the whiz-fests were happening because once Monkey had a whiff of pee on his person – a dab of “eau de toilet” if you will – everywhere he went would smell of pee, and therefore everywhere was a legitimate pee location. It was kind of like that old song “Wherever I lay my hat, that’s my home”, except with puddles instead of a hat. Anyway once we figured out how things were going so wrong, we were able to make genuine progress. The little pee-monster still has three bladders of course, and there’s no getting round that.

As a special treat for Poppy after such a restricted 10 day lock down, we took her and the A-Team for a walk up Loudoun Hill. She coped with the short climb very easily, but seemed a little unsure of the etiquette for the ritual treat handout at the top.

The Beagle Book of Law contains a number of rules governing the delivery of treats at the top of a hill, but they all have a single common thread which is quite easy to memorize, and it’s this: Beanie gets the treats first. Every time. Or else.

Get down Biggles, I get first dibs!

Poppy also has a lot to learn about gratuitous woofing, but at least she has two very experienced coaches.

And of course Beanie is also qualified to teach the art of getting stuck in odd places

One essential Beagle skill that both Poppy and Monkey have already acquired is that of poo snacking. Currently they’ve yet to develop a taste for the droppings of random local dogs, instead preferring the high quality, home-grown stink bombs laid by Beanie and Biggles. It’s disturbingly common to see them pacing around members of the A-Team when they go out for their morning constitutional, pouncing on the fresh deposits as soon as they become available. When nature calls during a walk it’s a game of who’s quickest on the draw: can I get a poo bag on my hand and scoop before an eager puppy mouth beats me to it? If only I had the reflexes of a young Clint Eastwood. On the other hand, at least it’s taking longer to wear down my supply of bags. If you’re disgusted by any of that, take my advice: don’t get a Beagle!

To close this post, a few more shots: