For a few weeks out of each year Biggles gets to boast that he’s just as old as his sister – in integer years at least. Maybe it’s my imagination but I do think he gets an extra swagger about him during this time. Unfortunately Beanie’s just had her eighth birthday and now he’s back to being her little brother again. It’s not so bad though, because birthdays generally mean food and fun.

The big day started with a trip to our local pet shop. The instant we got out of the car Biggles somehow knew where we were going, while Beanie was a little more concerned about purging the nearby parking spaces of all dropped food remnants. That and rolling in a bit of seagull guano. Nevertheless we eventually made it into the store, charged past the rabbits and guinea pigs with our heads down (‘cos those rabbit things are really scary) and made a beeline for the toy aisle. Once there – and just in case any of the staff had failed to notice our entrance – we had a really loud and extended woofing session at a big Humpty Dumpty toy on a distant shelf. Clearly the owners of the shop were unaware that Humpty-Dumpty is a well known villain in the Beagle world. Now that the Metropolitan Police have dropped their 24/7 guard on Julian Assange, maybe they can send someone along to Ayrshire to deal with said Mr. Dumpty?

Somehow amid all the woofing, pulling and meticulous floor licking we found suitable things to spend our money on. As is her wont, Beanie did her special biscuit summoning dance at the checkout; it was particularly successful this time, netting two servings of gravy bone biccies each for her and Biggles.  We exited the shop with two new collars (genuinely needed, as their old ones were getting really tatty) and two other items that were ridiculously expensive but have already proved a huge hit with both our pups. I can’t remember what the mystery items are called and the packaging is long gone, but they look like this:

They’re made of flavored nylabone-type material, with a slot on each arm that can securely hold a clip-in treat. With no opposable thumbs available, the waggy recipient of the toy has to get to work on it with their teeth. I fully expected Biggles to be the best at this due to his amazing chewing powers, but it was the birthday girl who was first to liberate her treat from the plastic.

Susan figured it was just pot luck that enabled Beanie get her treat out first..

..But I think Beanie’s success had something to do with her superior ability to hold things in her paws

Holding the toy at just the right angle, she was able to pop the bone-shaped treat out in about a minute

The Bigglet’s approach was much less sophisticated. He tried licking it for a bit..

Then settled for good old fashioned brute force. And it worked. Eventually.

The best thing was that even after the treats had gone, the two of them kept on chewing – to such an extent that Biggles’ toy was already looking worse for wear when we finally took it off him. Still, chewing up that nylabone material is supposed to help clean teeth, so it’s all good. What’s more, there’s no need to keep paying for more of the clip-in treats, because a dollop of natural yoghurt and some time in the freezer works just as well.

Needless to say there was cake too, and after a long walk involving an extended blackberry picking session, we all cosied up to watch the return of zombie drama “The Walking Dead”. As the episode ended, the heroes were in a bit of a pickle due to the zombies being attracted by loud noise. All things considered, it’s not too surprising that the show has never counted Beagle owners among the survivors of the zombie apocalypse.

We’ve been at our home in Ayrshire for nearly six years now, but I’m still finding great new walks nearby. The latest is along the river Ayr near Mauchline. I went there initially to photograph a huge old railway viaduct; the shot didn’t work out (I need to try again later in the year when foliage is reduced) but I had a strong feeling that the path by the river would be a big hit with Beanie and Biggles. On one glorious day that felt and looked much more like summer than autumn, I brought the dynamic duo along with me to see if I was right.

A wire fence is meant to be a barrier, but to a Beagle it’s nothing but an invitation to be nosy

Initial signs were very promising. I may not be any good at knowing which objects need to be peed on and which don’t, but even my pathetically ineffective human nose can tell me when something is sniffy, and this walk was very sniffy indeed. Our progress along the path could best be described as erratic as we zig-zagged, backtracked, sniffed, peed and rolled our way towards the viaduct.

Sometimes when we’re on routine walks I feel that I’m at odds with my Beagles. I always want them to enjoy their exercise but at the same time I’m often eager to get back home so I can get work done. However on this relaxing, sunny day the three of us were truly in sync; I was happy to indulge their little whims even when it meant taking detours off the path, and equally they were happy to stand quietly and survey the view while I assessed its photographic potential.

The route eventually parted ways with the river and went along by fields of cattle, forcing us to go through a number of so-called kissing gates. These are designed to allow only one person through at a time, not one person attached to two eager Beagles. There must be thousands of these gates throughout Scotland, and Beanie & Biggles must have traversed a hundred of them by now, but still they don’t get the whole “wait your turn” thing. Somehow we made it through each of them until we came to this one, which I judged impassable:

The reason it was impassable had little to do with the gate itself, and everything to do with the three yard stretch of ground between it and the next gate, because it was open to the cattle. In truth we could probably have made it across to the other side without incident, but I wouldn’t have been confident about the return journey due to The Biggles Factor. Thus far my boy had been pretty quiet, but the odds were very high that he’d have called the cows rude names as we crossed that short stretch of no-dogs-land. There was no choice but to turn back early, but we’d still had a decent walk, and what’s more the pause at the gate had given Beanie enough time to find a little cache of ripe blackberries.

Blackberries are only in season for a couple of months each year, but Beanie always remembers to look out for them!

The stroll back was equally as relaxed and uneventful, save for the discovery and subsequent destruction of a potato scone wrapper. Biggles was the first to find it, but after a brief examination he deemed it unworthy of his time and moved on to something of greater importance (a bush needed peeing on). Beanie’s reaction to the wrapper was much stronger; she’s always been very good at at getting every stray molecule of food off things and never lets anything go to waste. As she approached, it was spotlighted by a patch of sun like some mythical artefact in an Indiana Jones film. She gave it nearly 3 minutes of her undivided attention, carefully – almost lovingly – licking every surface. Then abruptly and in a frenzy of motion, she ripped it to shreds. Job done!

Sadly the Legendary Scone Wrapper of Mauchline wasn’t preserved for the appreciation of future generations. But it entertained Beanie for a few minutes, and when she was finally done, we went home for tea and long nap. Not all days go like this, but they probably should.

It’s been a a couple of weeks or so since Biggles turned seven, and our two spoiled furballs have finally accepted that although they had servings of birthday cake for three days straight – more than long enough to set a precedent in Beagle law – they’re not going to get cake every day. It sucks, and if Ewan McGregor and other charity-supporting celebs knew about it, they’d be appearing on the TV between the PPI and accident claim adverts asking families through the UK to donate sardine-flavored cakes, buns and muffins to our two.

Remember – donating just two cupcakes or fishy french fancies a month could give a hungry Beagle something to speed-swallow between normal mealtimes

Fortunately for Biggles, he’s found something to fill the cake-sized gap in his life, and it’s something that might surprise you. It certainly surprised me.

Yes, that’s right, it’s my used snotty paper hankies. I’ve had a really unpleasant cold over the last week, and Biggles has become obsessed with my mucus filled cast-offs.

If I’ve had a nice smelly TV dinner and put down my plate next to the sofa, I can successfully keep Biggles from licking it. It takes constant vigilance and the occasional “Oi! No!” combined with a cautionary index finger, but The Bigglet (and Beanie, for that matter) will comply. Same goes for an empty cup of hot chocolate. But.. if I’m careless enough to leave a used tissue within reach, Biggles just has to have it, no matter how stern a voice I use or how much my index finger is pointing at him. On one occasion a curious Beanie followed him to his “safe” place in the corridor while he had a tissue in his possession, and she was told in no uncertain terms to butt out, and that hardly ever happens, not even when she’s vacuuming up stray kibble that he’s knocked out of his bowl at mealtimes.

It’s possible that NASA or SETI may find incontrovertible proof of life on other worlds within my lifetime, but I can guarantee you that I’ll expire without ever knowing why Biggles finds my used, snotty hankies so irresistible (whether they have an aloe vera balm to reduce nasal friction or not!)