Beanie had her sixteenth birthday a few days ago and showed that she is still a little madam in full possession of her marbles.

As part of her birthday celebration she received lots of nice edibles: homemade biccies, doggy cupcakes and a special meal. This all went down very well, but it also went to her head.

As is often the case Beanie was highly dissatisfied when the menu returned to normal, and promptly went on a hunger strike. The look on her face when I put a bowlful of common kibble under her nose spoke volumes: “Oh no Dad, princess Beagles don’t eat that muck. Where’s my breakfast pupcake and chicken dinner?”

We’re sufficiently versed in Beanie’s little ways that we were able to stand firm and break her hunger protest after only one missed meal; to be fair it probably helped that three other Beagles were very happily and noisily tucking into their regular food around her while she abstained. Though beaten over the food she still tried some other Beanie-isms on us, including that old classic, the morning bed grab routine. For bed-loving Beagles who don’t know this one, here’s how it goes, and as Mr Miyagi said in The Karate Kid movie: “if do right, there can no defence”.

1. Sound the “Beagle needs the toilet” red alert until one of the humies leaves their bed to open your crate. You don’t have to woof for this one; pawing at the crate door slowly, pathetically and relentlessly can work just as well.
2. Make a show of following them, then while they’re busy turning off the alarm and unlocking the door to the garden, quickly double-back and take their place in the bed before they realize what’s really going on.
3. If there’s still a residual humie in the bed, simply stretch out, keeping your arms and legs as stiff as iron pokers, until the humie moves to accommodate you. Then just move and repeat until the humie is cramped into such an uncomfortable position that they too vacate the bed.

Note that step #2 above becomes much more difficult when you’re sixteen and slow, and the only way you can get into the humie bed is to clamber up the steps they’ve installed for you; nevertheless it can still be done especially if the other Beagles in the house have helped by leaving chews and toys on the floor to mess with those soft, delicate humie feet.

So she may be sixteen and a bit infirm, but she is still very much the naughty little pupplet who came to live with us all those years ago.

Something is definitely going on between Monkey and Beanie, and due to the huge age gap it is somewhat reminiscent of the Jason & Gary sketches in Little Britain.

In doggy terms Beanie is probably old enough to be Monkey’s great-great grandma but it’s clear he fancies her, and it’s a two-way thing. More than once I’ve caught them intently sniffing inside each other’s crates, Beanie openly twerks at Monkey, and on walks its not unsual to find Monkey’s nose glued to Beanie’s bum. Fortunately there hasn’t been any really unseemly hank-panky yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me if one day I walk in on Beanie giving Monkey a thorough humping. It would definitely be that way around, because in our experience of Beagles it’s always the girl who does the humping.

Changing the subject, it’s like someone flicked a switch and we instantaneously moved to Autumn, but just before September ended we got a last taste of summer, and here are the pics to prove it.

And finally: when a 17kg monster Beagle engages in a tug game with a 9.3kg pip-squeak Beagle, who do you think’s going to win?

Yep that’s right – always bet on the pip-squeak!

For all the fun and love she’s brought us, Beanie has also put us through the wringer emotionally on numerous occasions. I thought I’d lost her for good on The Merrick when she somehow managed to break free of her lead; I thought I was going to lose her when she had haemorrhagic gastroenteritis, and for the last year or so we’ve gone through several cycles of “she’s not long for this world, oh wait she’s OK”. Well, right now The Beanster is definitely OK. We still take her royal carriage – which to commoners looks much like a doggy pushchair – with us on longer walks, but it’s weeks since she’s actually needed it.

I think she’s been giving Poppy lessons on how to keep us on our toes however, because Poppy has now hit us with a quality medical drama of her own.

Remember that incident a while back that we assumed was a bee sting? Well it wasn’t a sting, it was an epileptic seizure. She’s since had two more. Canine epilepsy can happen for all kinds of reasons, but in Poppy’s case I strongly suspect it’s hereditary.

Way back when Beanie was a youngster, epilepsy hit a number of Beagles we knew – all fathered by a particular hound. All those dogs ended up being euthanised at an early age as the condition became uncontrollable. It turns out that Poppy shares the same bloodline. It could be coincidence of course, and in any case one would hope that the intervening generations have weakened whatever genetics might make the dogs susceptible to seizures, so we’re hopeful that Poppy won’t suffer the same fate as those dogs from Beanie’s youth.

We’re trying to avoid the traditional medication route for Poppy – potassium bromide and all the rest of it – as the side effects (and the cost) can be pretty rough. Instead, we’ve switched her onto a keto diet (there is some evidence than this can help with epilepsy in both humans and dogs) and we intend to give so-called “golden paste” a try; this turmeric-based mixture is thought to help with a number of conditions in dogs, including epilepsy.

Both of these measures can take a few weeks to have an effect, so only time will tell if they’re going to help keep Poppy’s seizures at bay. Fingers and paws crossed!