Wagamuffins!

Posted on March 19, 2012 by Paul

We’ve been very busy with work over the last week or so and this has reduced the quality of service given to our two VIBs (Very Important Beagles). For example while I’ve been putting in long hours at the computer, Biggles has been denied his human chin rest, and Beanie has sometimes missed her usual tug games. Lack of attention isn’t something a spoiled Beagle endures without protest, and we have certainly had plenty of those over the last few days.

We are NOT amused.

Biggles plans his protest activities for the day

I’ve suffered the loss of a filter hood for my camera; Beanie was apparently dissatisfied with the chew I’d given her and found a new one. One afternoon Biggles decided to use my keyboard as a foot and bum massager. He broke the two support flaps that hold the keyboard at a nice angle, and a couple of the keys now smell a bit funky. Talking of smells, we’ve had no less than three protest vomits in the hall, two of them the dreaded “shit-vom” (regurgitated, partially digested poo). What’s more the poo in question came from other dogs, not our two. If you’re wondering how I know that, it’s not because I did some kind of CSI-style poo DNA analysis, it’s just that the two of them have been devouring every pile of poo they can get their mouths around. At one point we were practicing recall in a dog enclosure with chicken as the reward. The recall itself worked great, but the chicken was snubbed in favor of poo. I mean, what can you do when Soylent Brown trumps chicken?

By the time the weekend came round I couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty about the lack of attention, and in a moment of weakness I visited the pet aisle in our local supermarket and got a fresh nylabone chew. It went down well for a couple of minutes, but then his Biggleship discovered that the packaging was way more fun.

What he should have been chewing

What he was actually chewing

..And we’re done

Sunday was a much better day for the Beaglets. The morning was spent in a particularly sniffy country park, and we deliberately went by some fields where sheep were grazing to work on reducing wool-induced woofs.

More signs of spring..

This time the chicken gets thoroughly polished off

Later that day I took them out again for an hour’s run at the beach park, and it was during this run that we discovered The Best Stick Ever. You know how most sticks are like chocolate biscuits – two bites and they’re gone? Well this was the “Twix” of sticks. It was really substantial, in fact it was more like a section of trunk from a young tree than a stick. It could have provided days of chewing entertainment for a normal dog, and maybe a full twenty minutes for a Beagle. Biggles was the first to pick it up and though it was heavy he carried it around proudly for nearly 2km, all the while being harassed by his jealous sister. Eventually his jaws tired and he dropped it, giving Beanie her chance. She grabbed it and pranced around in a high legged trot like a dressage pony, but soon she too was feeling the weight of it. She put it down briefly to get a different hold but fumbled the re-acquisition. I kept jogging and in a couple of steps the stick was out of her reach, and all Beanie could do was look back at it longingly. She didn’t miss it for long though; within a few seconds she was all “what stick?” bounding along happily by my side. Life would be a lot easier if we could all have the same easy-come-easy-go attitude as doggies!

Now that’s what I’m talking about!

We all squeak together!

Posted on March 6, 2012 by Paul

It’s been a week of highs and lows. The highs occurred in the garden when Beanie proved that she’s more than a match for those pesky squeaking space hoppers.

The lows occurred ironically while going up Conic Hill again. We had a brief burst of good weather and decided to revisit the hill – this time strictly at walking pace and sticking to the paths – to get a proper look & sniff at it. Unfortunately his Biggleship decided that to use this as the venue for his latest attempt on the world aaaaarrffing record. It was a shame because he’d been doing a lot better on country walks of late, but for some reason Conic Hill put him in the mood for extreme baying. And it certainly was extreme; his squeaks, aaarrfs, oinks and warbles echoed round the hill and eventually he even got into a long distance conversation with some other dog way back down in the Balmaha car park. We’re used to getting small outbursts from him, particularly at the start of a descent, but this was a return to the bad old days where it never really lets up until we’re right back at ground level. It was not only tiring but embarrassing when we encountered other walkers.

Adding to the embarrassment was the fact that I’d neglected to empty my coat pocket after the garden play session, and still had Beanie’s space hopper in there. I tried to reposition it but still I had a tendency to squeak any time I moved my arms. On the very rare occasions that Biggles took a breather from his baying, I was still squeaking away with every step. Not good. Even worse was the fact that somehow amid all the noise and distraction caused by her brother, Beanie managed to get offlead twice. The first time she managed to wriggle out of her harness (we’d neglected to tighten it up sufficiently) but thankfully responded to our emergency recall command just as she was starting to pick up speed. The second time the clip on her lead somehow came undone – maybe it rubbed against Biggles’ lead in just the wrong way – but we got hold of her before she realized she was free. So all things considered, this was not the relaxing, minor hill walk it was meant to have been, but it was remarkably pretty given the modest height.

Near the start of the walk reflections in a perfectly still small lake gave the illusion that reeds where floating in mid air

The winding path just beyond the forest

A brief moment of order & peace on the summit, but you can still count on someone to stick their tongue out for the group photo!

Yeah the views are nice…

But someone has spotted some sheep and the noise machine is about to start up again

Biggles is a noisy bugger but we still love him.. just about..

When we’d completed the descent (some of it conducted on our bums to avoid being pulled down at high speed by crazy Beagles) we took an extra stroll along the “Balmaha Millennium Forest path”. This took us up to the site of an Iron Age fort, then back to the car park via the shores of Loch Lomond. It was little more than a kilometre in length but very pretty, and now we were back at ground level and away from the scent of sheep, it was also mercifully quiet. Apart from the odd squeak from my pocket that is.

Peaceful sniffing at last!

The view point by the site of the fort

A chance to get some sand between Beagle toes on a short stretch of beach

The way back goes across a modern but attractive bridge. Biggles wasn’t keen on the grid-like floor of the bridge and had to be carried over it but Beanie was able to spider-beagle her way across.

Chronic Hill

Posted on February 25, 2012 by Paul

It’s very difficult to do anything in our house without being observed by a Beagle or two. This morning we rose early, and though our pups appeared to be still be in comas, I became aware that the watchful eye of Little Brother was tracking my every movement as I prepared for a run.

Not much escapes Mr. Biggles’ attention, even when he’s upside down

If he was really paying attention, he might have noticed that although I assembled all of my running gear, I didn’t pack up the pups’ running harnesses. Sadly this was no oversight; we were headed for the annual Conic Hill race which is strictly a human-only event.

Even before we’d parked up there was a very noisy woofing incident with a Great Dane (it’s OK to woof at really big dogs when you’re protected by the car) and this raised concerns that Beanie and Biggles might not be particularly well behaved spectators. For that reason, Susan took them for a walk well away from the starting area until the race was under way, so I and all the other runners got to hear the starter’s orders without any Beagle backing music. I’d done one hill race prior to this – Callander Crags – so I had a rough idea of what to expect; a slower start than a regular road or cross-country race, then extended periods of walking when the going becomes so steep that only the elite athletes can keep a running motion going, and finally a rapid descent where courage, sure-footedness and smart route-choosing play almost as big a role in your finishing position as fitness. I found this course far tougher than Callander Crags however. Unlike the Crags it didn’t follow the tourist route up the hill, and the ascent was much steeper! At times all four limbs were required as we went up short sections of near-vertical rock with precious few foot and hand-holds. To make it even worse, the route isn’t a straight up-and-down affair – it takes you over a series of humps. This is bad psychologically because as the ascent starts to bite and you see those ahead of you change from a walk to a jog, you naturally assume you’re near the top. In reality you’ve merely reached one of several plateaux and the summit is still some way off. It’s kind of like one of those supermarket deals: pay for one hill, get two extra ones free.

When I finally did hit the top and staggered round the little cairn to start the descent I figured the hardest part was over, but again, the course had a trick or two up its sleeve. Just as I started to pick up speed on a runnable (though still somewhat dangerous) rocky path, the course suddenly took a diversion to the side down what I can only describe as a mudslide, then into a boggy field and over a wobbly fence that was just the right height to pose a serious threat to one’s “joy department”. After that there were trees to go over & under, and a final slippery descent through peaty woodland. As I emerged from the woods I could tell the finish was close because of the crowds, but it wasn’t immediately apparent quite where the finish line was, and I was grateful for timely direction from one of the race marshals. I subsequently discovered there was a reason why the finish line hadn’t been terribly well-marked, and that reason involved a certain small, waggy Beagle.

You see the line had apparently been marked out using flour, and while Susan chatted to the other spectators, some munching occurred. Yes that’s right – Beanie ate the finish line! And that wasn’t the only act of Beagle sabotage today. While I sat in the passenger seat inspecting the many cuts and grazes on my legs, Susan prepared to drive us back home. Just as she was reversing out of the parking space, one the lenses fell out of her glasses. The lens in question had some curious indentations on it, almost like teeth…

Taken in the car park at by the start of the race, with Conic Hill in the background. You’d be amazed how long it took to get them both to sit on that rock and pose for the camera. Or if you’re a fellow Beagle owner, may be you wouldn’t!