Dogs in general are considered to be quite stoic creatures, and Beagles particularly so; that is said to be one of the reasons they’re often found in research labs. Our Beagles have generally been anything but stoic. I wouldn’t call Beanie a drama queen, but she learned quickly that the best way to bend a humie to her will was to play on that humie’s concern for her wellbeing. Biggles was quite a bold little boy, but he wasn’t stoic; the tiniest little thorn would bring him to a halt with his paw raised in urgent need of a magic rub. Biggles taught his paw-raising skills to Poppy and Monkey, but Monkey quickly surpassed his mentor. He isn’t merely non-stoic, he’s anti-stoic. Every day he faces the threat of Monkeycide; to survive, he must raise the alarm at the merest hint of a threat. Pool of water? A potential attempt to drown him! Unidentified food item? Undoubtedly poison! Grit between his toes? A deliberate attempt to hobble him, so that he can’t escape the next attack.
It’s good to rest..
But the prudent Monkey always keeps at least one eye open for approaching danger!
Daisy – as I found out just a few days ago – is very different. She may seem to be all softness and cuddles, but her upper lip is as stiff as a chunk of freeze-dried paddywhack.
During a recent walk along a country lane, a sliver of glass found its way into one of her paws. Not once did she stop and call attention to her plight; I only knew something was wrong when I noticed the rhythm of her walk change. She wasn’t limping as such, but I could see from her shoulder movement that she wasn’t putting full weight through one of her legs. I stopped her and checked the affected leg, but without my reading glasses I didn’t spot the glass; I just gave her paw a magic rub and monitored her as we continued on the walk. The rub seemed to have helped a bit, but she still wasn’t walking quite normally.
As we got close to home I saw a puddle of clean rainwater and tried encouraging her to walk through it, thinking that might help, but she was very reluctant. This time when I checked her paw I could see a little blood escaping from the wound and could feel the protruding glass. She’d have soldiered on without making a fuss, but of course I picked her up and carried her home, giving her little kisses as we went. Monkey got a bit jealous of the attention I was giving Daisy and tried to pull down my pants (its his way) but we got home just the same, and while I went for tweezers and my glasses Daisy somehow purged her paw of the foreign body all by herself. She’s little and she’s squeaky, but she’s also tough, just like her GoDog purple dinosaur and “sitting duck” toys!
And now for the ballet part of the post. I’ve been experimenting with the electronic shutter on my camera, allowing it to take a more concentrated burst of images during Monkey & Daisy’s play sessions; all those extra in-between frames have shown just how graceful and athletic they both are!
And this image shows why certain parts of our lawn look like a well-used racetrack:
