The first year or so of Beanie’s life was punctuated by frequent outings to the vet. She got tummy bugs, kennel cough, induced vomiting to force her to give up a complete, still-wrapped packet of sausages, and ultimately ended up getting surgery to remove some plastic material she insisted on swallowing. Things calmed down a bit after that, and for the last couple of years she’s really only seen the vet for her regular checkup and vaccination jabs.

Clearly some kind of worrying illness was long overdue, so about a week ago she skipped her twice-daily poo regimen one day, then more than made up for it the next by attempting to go seven times or so. Each time she went she released only small amounts of something resembling a McDonald’s chocolate milkshake. Naturally we started thinking “blockage”, and Beanie fed this worry by producing a UVO (Unidentified Vomited Object) one morning. Still, she was in all other respects her normal self, so we played the waiting game for another day or so. By the time we finally made an appointment with the vet we were intensely sleep-deprived, because Beanie was needing to go on the hour, every hour from about 2am through to 7am. Each time she signalled it was pootime one of us went out into the garden with her, armed with the 1 million candle power rechargeable torch I’d bought from HomeBase during a sale last year. Susan had been doubtful that we really needed another torch, but deep down inside I had a man’s intuition that those 1 million candles would be useful for something, and now here was the perfect application: nocturnal poo examination! But I digress. At the vet, we received the welcome news that in all likelihood Beanie’s problem was simple diarrhoea and not some partial blockage that would require surgery. We came home armed with a probiotic/gut calming preparation called “Pro-Kolin” and a course of antibiotics.

We tried the Pro-Kolin stuff first for a couple of days, and having seen no significant improvement, started Beanie on the antibiotics. They worked fast, and by day two – which happened to be Susan’s birthday – the diarrhoea had stopped. What we needed now was for Beanie to have a healthy regular movement, and Susan joked that the best birthday present Beanie could give her mum would be a huge solid poo. Well, Beanie ended up delivering the present a day late, but it was an awfully big, well-wrapped present when it finally arrived. Filled with the joy of her successful bowel emptying, Beanie spent the morning cavorting round the garden with her toys:

She received an embarrassing big hug and kiss from her Mum..

Please Mum, not in front of the camera!

.. and an ear nibble from her brother, though in fairness that only happened after she repeatedly yanked his tail like it was her rabbit-skin tugger:

So, Beanie’s back to full health, leaving us tired and shagged out like a Norwegian Blue parrot, or like Biggles, come to think of it:

Help! My sister’s well again!

Uh-oh, I’m in trouble now!

There is no Book of Beagle Law as such because:

1. Beagles can’t write
2. The laws seem to be very fluid, changing from day to day (and from Beagle to Beagle)

Nevertheless one law that has remained consistent for the last couple of days concerns the consumption of Tesco monkey nuts at one’s desk. As far as I can tell, the law goes something like this: “If you’ve got monkey nuts on your desk and a Beagle hears you opening and munching them, you must surrender them immediately to the aforementioned Beagle”. Clearly I broke the law, and Beanie wasn’t happy about it. I got the hard stare treatment from under my desk (see above) and when that didn’t work, I got a severe woofing.

The Bigglet isn’t nearly so demanding. Once I’ve made it clear that a particular food is mine, he loses interest and settles down for a nap.

There’s been a lot of nap time for the four us since our adventure in Kielder. With me and Susan I think the need for R&R was physical, with Beanie & Biggles it was more to do with the amount of stimulation they’d had.

On the night of our return from Kielder, Biggles decided he wanted to retire to bed early. His crate was closed so instead he pawed open our bedroom wardrobe and made himself comfy on our discarded winter duvet amongst the shoe boxes..

The first sign that our monkeys were fully recovered and ready for action came when Susan spotted something unusual out of our bedroom window:

That’s our miniature apple tree with a Bigglet on it. We only got it recently (the tree, not the Bigglet), and already little apples are appearing. According to the guys at the garden center, we’re supposed to pluck some of them off early while the tree is still young to help it grow stronger in subsequent years. We’ve been a bit lax in this respect, so “Biggles Titmarsh” decided to give us a hand..

Our instructions were to pluck the apples off rather than nibble them away, but I guess the end result is the same.

Who knew gardening could be this tasty!

As I watched little Mr Green-Paws I became concerned that he was getting a little too enthusiastic about his work.

I certainly didn’t remember the garden center boffins saying anything about pruning the tree’s branches, and so I brought this little gardening session to an end.

So the apple tree has joined the long list of items that require protection from our Beagles, and apparently our toilet rolls should be on the list too…

Beanie destroys another bog roll

..along with Biggles’ tail and Beanie’s ear flaps.

You’ve heard of the Mexican Standoff; this is the Beagle version

After a couple of hours of mayhem the Beagle batteries ran flat again and we got to enjoy a quiet coffee in the sun.

Or at least we did until the buns came out and the begging started..

Beanie’s distinctive begging works on just about everybody

Except us. Disappointment ain’t pretty!