It’s been a couple of weeks or so since Beanie had her dental work and I have to say she’s been a very perky little girl every day since. That said, Biggles has also been a very perky little boy so it could just be the spring weather that’s charged their batteries. Regardless, they’ve both been especially playful and pesky, getting into everything in ways that would put very much younger dogs to shame.

Biggles has always had a taste for compost, often snacking it right out of the pots we’re preparing, so we made sure to keep him in the house on the morning we emptied out one of our compost bins, but we forgot about The Beanster. She was a nightmare, performing lightning-fast raids on the partially rotted scraps every time our backs were turned. I never once got to see what she’d nicked – I just saw her flouncy bottom on its way to the bottom of the garden after each snatch-and-grab mission.

Biggles samples our latest mix of compost and coconut coir

Our larger compost pile is also under threat now that I’ve loaded it with cow and horse manure

Biggles is great at stealing used cups and spoons from the kitchen, but absolutely crap at hiding the incriminating evidence

It seemed like such a good idea to get into Mum’s garden trug on wheels..

..but getting back out seems a little challenging. On the other hand if I injure myself I get to go to the vet…

Every time we let them back in the garden there’s a run-around in the kitchen, trying to get them out from under the table, extract their snouts from the box of delights that is Susan’s store of seeds and plant pots, and head them off before they make it into the utility room where their kibble is stored. When I’ve collapsed on the sofa from hard toil in the garden, it’s pretty much guaranteed that a certain little girl will whack me in the face with her squeaky fox and demand a play session. It’s almost like having pups all over again, and though it is pesky, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Far too often in this blog I’ve had to write about Beanie’s medical misadventures. Well pull up a seat and grab a coffee, because here we go again.

Back in June last year I wrote that Beanie had lost a couple of front teeth. I noticed that some of her other front teeth weren’t looking too great so I resolved to put more effort into brushing at the front, even if doing so wasn’t appreciated by Beanie herself. Despite my efforts, Beanie continued to lose teeth and eventually – covid lockdown or not – we just had to get her to the vet for a dental check-up. The news was not good; quite a few of her teeth were in bad shape, and not just at the front. We booked her in for a thorough professional clean and extraction of any non-viable teeth, and also booked in Biggles for his own dental inspection and general MOT.

Biggles’ check-up came first, and I’m happy to report that he got a clean bill of health. Our two pups have always eaten the same food and received the same daily brushing from yours truly, but while he was found to have only minor staining on some teeth, Beanie’s gnashers were a train wreck. I guess as in humans it’s not just brushing but also genetics and lifestyle that play a big role in dental health. It’s particularly noteworthy that Biggles has always enjoyed chewing things: bones, hooves, sticks, furniture. It’s his 3rd favorite hobby behind sock collecting and eating poo, and just ahead of woofing at the postie.

As Beanie’s appointment grew closer, I started to worry. Dental procedures have to be done under anesthetic for dogs (honestly I’d much prefer that they did the same for humans too, but then I’ve always dreaded the dentist). It’s very much a routine thing but it’s never risk-free, and at 13 and a half years old, the Beanster is no spring chicken, even if she tends to behave like one. Susan tried to make light of the situation by referring to the whole thing as “Beanie’s day at the spa”, promising our little madam that she’d receive a 1st class professional pampering session.

On the morning of her spa experience, we parked up at the vet and tried to call reception to notify them of Beanie’s arrival. We’d got there too early – as is my habit – so while we waited I got Beanie out of her crate and sat her on my lap. I wanted to give her hugs and kisses and tell her I loved her – just in case – but being Beanie, all she wanted to do was jump off my lap and purge the floor of any dropped food particles. The sniff-rummage-sniff routine passed the time much better than a soppy hugging session, and pretty soon I was directed to walk Beanie up to the outdoor waiting area, where I’d be met by the vet.

I’ve never once played poker in my life, which is probably just as well; the vet instantly saw the worry on my face and worked hard to reassure me. She also did a terrific job of putting the Beanster in a happy mood; as we parted company Beanie was all wags and didn’t look back at me once. Just as Mum had told her, this was going to be a spa day worthy of a princess and thus far the pampering was up to standard. We drove back home to wait for the call. I had a ton of other things I could have done to pass the time, but I just walked Biggles and sat at my computer processing the photos of Beanie I’d taken the night before (again, just in case I wouldn’t get another opportunity).

After what seemed like an age the phone rang. I was immediately told that Beanie was OK, and that the procedure had gone totally to plan. This was exactly the right way to begin a phone call to an anxious doggy parent. Then came the less good news: they’d had to remove eleven teeth. Eleven! This had obviously been a pretty intense spa day. As we waited for collection time to come around my relief at Beanie’s survival was gradually replaced by worry about what all those missing teeth might mean for her quality of life. As much as Biggles has always loved chewing, Beanie has always loved fetch and tug games. Would we still be able to play together? But more than anything, Susan, myself and Biggles just wanted to get her back home.

At 5pm, we got our wish. Beanie wagged furiously as soon as she saw us , and I could hardly take my eyes off her as I tried to absorb all the extra information the vet was telling me. Over and above the short term care stuff (soft food, pain killer once a day and so on) two things lodged in my head:

1. Blue stitches had been used to close up the voids left by the missing teeth, so I shouldn’t be alarmed if I spotted anything weird in Beanie’s mouth. I was totally fine with this. I’ve had more than 13 years of seeing weird stuff in Beanie’s mouth.
2. Not to be alarmed if her tongue falls out of her mouth. On one side she’d lost basically all her upper teeth bar the canine, and Jaja Binks tongue was a possibility. Now that would be something new.

Once back home it became apparent that the meds she’d been given hadn’t quite worn off. She was a bit drowsy, a little unsteady on her feet, and a lot hungry – understandable given that she’d had no food since 9pm the previous night. I rectified the empty tummy situation and figured she’d just sleep through the rest of the day, but she had something else to do first. Without any prompting she trotted over to the toy box and grabbed the floppy rabbit we’d played with the previous evening, paraded it around the rug and dumped it at my feet, inviting a tug session. I didn’t take her up on that, but we did play fetch a couple of times before she settled down for a nap. It was as though she wanted to reassure me (and maybe herself) that play would be back on the cards as soon as she was rested and healed.

So little Beanie has dodged another bullet. She’s lost some teeth, but I would hope she’s also lost whatever discomfort those teeth might have been causing her. Both Susan and I now refer to her as “Gumsy”, but since that  tongue of hers only pops out of her mouth when it’s supposed to, at least we don’t have to call her Jaja Binks as well.

Officially Spring has been with us for a while, but over the last couple of weeks it’s really started to feel like it; the weather has for the most part been brighter and warmer and there are signs of growth everywhere. It’s been an uplifting distraction from the feeling of attrition and decay caused by the lockdown and other current events, and I’m pretty sure the Beaglets are feeling uplifted too.

Filled with the joys of Spring, Beanie & Biggles can’t wait to get going and seize the day, but only once they’ve had a supplementary morning nap in the humie bed. Obviously.

Squeaky rabbits have emerged from the depths of the toy box to roll on the lounge rug!

And empty peanut butter jars have gone on urgent trips down Biggles’ Corridor of Doom.

Only to be carried in a very business-like fashion out of the corridor and into the lounge…

Then back out of the lounge and into the corridor again, because when you’ve nicked a peanut jar you’ve got to chew it in the best possible place.

Our raised beds are filled with compost and ready to receive whatever vegetables we try to grow this year, but right now they’re mostly host to the Beanie plant.

The Beanie plant is considered by some to be a weed, because as soon as you remove it from one raised bed…

it turns up in another one…

After much research, Susan has decided we should use the “no dig” approach for our vegetable-growing adventures. Hopefully Beanie understands that “no dig” applies to her too…