For a while now I’ve been signed up to what seems to be the last DVD rental service in the UK – CinemaParadiso. Each time a new disc arrives I make popcorn and have a screening in what I refer to as our “posh” lounge, so named because it’s had less exposure to Beagle vomit and bum-wiping than our other rooms. While the popcorn guarantees that I’ll start off with two Beagle watching partners, usually a short way into the movie I’ll be down to just one: if the film is a horror, it’ll typically be Beanie, and for sci-fi it’ll be Biggles.

It makes sense that Beanie wouldn’t be overly fond of sci-fi movies; they’re often filled with beeping noises which can be very scary to little Beagle girls, whereas blood-curdling screams are just fine. As for Biggles, well I didn’t honestly think he had any particular aversion to horrors – until I watched “The possession of Hannah Grace” the other night. I didn’t find it to be a particularly scary movie, but Biggles apparently did; shortly after the start I heard him whimpering softly from the other sofa. When I made room for him next to me (which wasn’t easy because I had to shift Beanie up a bit), he came over like a shot and wouldn’t relax until I’d wrapped my arm right round him to provide both a cuddle and a chin rest. Ironically he’s the one who most often looks possessed – tickle that big white tummy of his just right and his eyes roll back in his head like a scene from The Exorcist.

Speaking of horrors, Beanie has proved once again that she is one, by tearing up a new plant we’d got for the back garden. She’s got form for this kind of thing; as a puppy she was a serial flower-killer, but we were hoping that she’d grown out of it by now.

Directly after planting she was keen to examine our work and did nibble a bit of compost (who wouldn’t?), but a cautionary “Oi! I’m watching you!” put a stop to that. Nearly a whole week passed without any further incidents, but I suspect that – as with TV’s Dexter Morgan – Beanie was trying to resist the urges of her “dark passenger”. Suddenly one evening the dark passenger won, and in the aftermath I found bits of plant and soil strewn all over the patio. No dirty paws or mucky snouts were in evidence, but the frenzied nature of the attack made it clearly a Beanie crime scene. The plant hadn’t been simply dug up – it had been ripped out of the soil and shaken like a Polaroid picture. Once a plant-killer, always a plant-killer!

In Monty Python’s Life of Brian a character called Reg (John Cleese) asks: “Apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?”

Well now there’s evidence to suggest that they did something else of note: they created the conditions necessary  for the development of the Beagle in Britain. Next time your socks get modified with nibble holes and that cup of hot chocolate you put down a few minutes ago isn’t just empty, but suspiciously clean, don’t blame your Beagles – blame the blummin’ Romans!

Now I’m not suggesting that it was the Romans themselves who selectively bred the naughtiest dogs they could find until they eventually produced Beagles. That’s absolutely not the case! However it would appear that they brought rabbits to Britain, and in doing so they set us on a path that ultimately resulted in the creation of the rabbit’s nemesis: the Beagle.

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/apr/18/ben-fur-romans-brought-rabbits-to-britain-experts-discover

On paper Beagles certainly should be good rabbit/hare hunters; they have world-class sniffing gear and they’re remarkably agile, persistent and resourceful. I have to admit that Beanie possesses these traits in abundance…

Unfortunately I have my doubts about Biggles; he does well enough with the kind of rabbit that’s stuffing-free and has a big squeaker in its head, but when he’s in the presence of the other kind – the kind that can move all by itself – he just keeps his head down and avoids eye contact.

Could it be that he’s afraid of the real thing? Perhaps another quote from Life of Brian applies here..

Biggles: He’s not the messiah of rabbit hunting, he’s just a very naughty boy!

His Biggleship has had a bit of a rough time lately. It started with the return of his acid reflux problem that he first experienced a couple of years ago. When this takes hold in dogs it often produces sudden regurgitation of acidic bile. Biggles’ reflux is generally pretty mild and if I spot the more subtle symptoms early then a few little doses of cider vinegar in his meals banishes the problem before the regurgitation happens, often for months. This time however I was slow to recognize the early symptoms and he had a big watery vomit, some of which he apparently took into his lungs. The next day his breathing was shallow and fast – even when sleeping – and it was obvious that something wasn’t right. We took him to the vet and came home with a week’s worth of antibiotics to guard against the possibility of aspiration pneumonia. Happily the treatment turned him around, and by the fifth day his breathing rhythm at rest was once again deep, slow and hypnotic. It’s long been the case if that if one of us cuddles up with him in front of the TV, his restful breathing noises quickly put us to sleep; thus far I’ve made two attempts at watching the latest Star Trek “Discovery” episode with Biggles, and in both cases everything between the start and end titles was lost to the Land of Nod. Admittedly Star Trek Discovery isn’t the most riveting of programs at the best of times, but I still think that Biggles’ snoozy sighs are to blame for my TV blackouts.

Just as he recovered the full use of lungs, Biggles managed to cut the pad on one of his front paws. It seems to be typical of my boy that he’ll make a big fuss over something trivial like a twig fragment caught between his toes, but when there’s a genuine injury – like an actual cut pad – he plays the stoic hound. In this case there was no raised paw, no worried licking or three-legged injured soldier routine, just a slight reluctance to go on walks and  – if I looked really closely – a very slight limp. I only spotted the cut when when he was curled up next to me on the sofa! Fortunately we always have a tub of Musher’s Secret in our doggy medicaments box, so the situation is in hand.

I felt that my little boy probably needed a little perking up after these two incidents, and when browsing the shelves of our local pet shop I found something new: filled hooves!

Yes, they look gross…

…but boy do they taste great!

Beanie and Biggles are well-used to getting filled bones, but this was their first time with filled hooves. The stuff in the hooves seemed to be tasty enough, but both of our pups were even more interested in the hooves themselves. Even now, long after every last molecule of filling has been licked away, both our furry types are content to hunker down and have a long, absorbing chew session with them.

Disgusting though they are to look at, I have to say that penny for penny these hooves provide way more chew time than any filled bone, cow ear or toy they’ve tried in the past – except for maybe the legs of the kitchen table. Respect the hoof!