There’s a reason why Beanie & Biggles are sitting so expectantly in the above shot, and it has everything to do Biggles’ seventh birthday. The subject of their interest isn’t a toy, because they’ve already got tons of those, a fair number of which are still serviceable.

Toys? We got ’em coming out of our big floppy ears!

Though Beanie’s crinkly, squeaky orange fox does some have some weakened stitching after a recent play session

As you may have guessed, the real reason for Beanie’s John Wayne style wide sit and Biggles’ outrageous tongue deployment is food; specifically the Biggly Boy’s birthday cake. Though tasty enough, the cake for his previous birthday had been somewhat lacking in visual appeal. In fact it looked more like a couple of poos sandwiched together than a cake, largely because I’d made it. Fortunately Susan was in charge of cake construction this time around and things went a lot better!

The ingredients were roughly the same as last time..

But the real secret to Beagle cake-making is in the preparation

It looks like this is going to be a good baking session

Beanie sends a prayer out to the Beagle God of Bowl Licking

And is suitably rewarded..

But not as much as Biggles!

Oh yeah, this has all the signs of being a great cake

But even though the cake has come out of the oven, Mum’s still not finished with it! What’s that she’s got there? Some kind of pate?

And could that really be cream cheese?

And doggy chocolate buttons, two of which have by sheer luck fallen near the edge of the worktop! Don’t worry Mum, I’ve got this!

There’s no need to put those spoons in the dishwasher either..

..Not when the apprentice bakers are on hand to do the washing up

The finished article..

On the day of his Biggleship’s birthday, and after a morning run on the beach with me, the cake was finally served. Normal protocol for receiving food went out of the window briefly but was then restored, although Biggles never quite managed to get his bum properly on the floor during the “sit” and “leave” part. Having said that, it can’t be easy to keep your rear end firmly on the floor when your tail is going like a propeller on a speedboat.

So, how does a seven year old Beagle boy tackle a huge slice of birthday cake? Does he firstly lick off the cream cheese and pate before nibbling delicately at the sardine-flavoured sponge? Or does he just try and get the whole thing in his gob in one go, half-choke on it, cough/spit the excess out onto the rug and desperately try to vacuum up the debris before his sister intervenes? Well, just remember that he’s a mature Beagle now, a cultured man-of-the-world, not some silly little inexperienced puppy with no self control.

So yep, pretty much try to down it one go, nearly choking in the process.

And not to be left out, Beanie did the same.

Time for a nap while all that cake gets processed. Happy Birthday Mr Biggles!

It seems that after years of trying all manner of training methodologies and occasionally seeking the help of experienced professionals – all to no avail – we’ve finally hit on a way to (temporarily) elicit good behavior from our Beagles. It’s a simple, two-step process:

1. Arrange a week-long get-together with Susan’s brother Richard
2. Immediately prior to meeting up, tell Richard all our dark tales of Beagle naughtiness

Naughty? Who? Me?

Having only experienced “normal” dogs like Spaniels, Richard wasn’t inclined to believe all those stories about frozen pea swallowing, grape gorging, sock stealing and extended AWOL adventures, and Beanie & Biggles seemed determined to not to disillusion him. For the first few days of his stay he was able to place a cup of coffee on the floor and leave it there without having to extract Beanie’s snout from it as soon as it reached drinking temperature.

Equally there were no attempts to nick food off his plate when he had a snack with a Beagle next to him on the sofa. Obviously Biggles did still roll onto his back and show all his wares in an attempt to charm Richard into food donation, but let’s face it, only the most puritan of households would consider a tasteful display of one’s genitalia during mealtimes to be a breach of etiquette.

Even when the charm offensive failed, Biggles still resisted the temptation to use his most effective food releasing tactic: the power sneeze. It’s a well known fact that most humans instantly become less possessive about their food when it’s been comprehensively sprayed with Beagle snot, yet despite having the means, motive and opportunity to unleash a nasal explosion all over Richard’s nosh, Biggles didn’t do it. Not once.

Biggles’ nose: it’s not just for sniffing

While we were staying at a campsite in Glencoe I got so used to this new, well-behaved version of our Beagles that at one point I accidentally left the caravan door open for a few minutes. Naturally Beanie did take advantage of this slip to have a little unattended sortie (what self-respecting Beagle wouldn’t) but it’s what she didn’t do during this moment of freedom that amazed me. There was no high-speed raid of other people’s tents and caravans, no frenzied emptying of bins, and no swallowing of toxic port-a-potty chemicals to get an emergency visit to a Glencoe vet. Nope, all she did was trot over to Richard’s tent and have a sniff around his portable barbeque.

Sadly, like an upgrade to Windows 10 before all the driver problems and bugs have been sorted out, Beanie & Biggles v2.0 didn’t stay the distance; as the week progressed, it eventually ended up reverting to its earlier version. Snouts went into cups, Biggles’ woofer got stuck in the “on” position during a very long walk, and someone with a furry bottom did a very smelly fart in Richard’s tent. Such is the way of things. But for a few days The Observer Effect gave us a brief glimpse of what it’s like to be owners of Not-Beagles, and you know what? Overall, I think I still prefer Beanie & Biggles 0.9Alpha; it’s much more entertaining!

Yep, we all know what “Keep Away” translates to in the Beagle language

One very positive outcome from our little holiday is that, thanks to Richard’s navigation skills, we now have a different, doggy-friendly and very scenic route up Goat Fell on nearby Isle of Arran. Biggles’ birthday is coming up at the end of this month, and if the weather gods give us a break he and his wiggly partner in crime will be getting to try it out. For now, here’s a couple of teaser shots:

I’m happy to report that Beanie has almost completely recovered from her most recent misadventure. She’s got a spring in her step again, so much spring in fact that Susan’s desk is under constant threat from shock-and-awe Beagle raids. About the only physical reminders of her illness are the shaved patches on her forearms, but even they’re slowly getting re-furred.

Beanie’s new orange fox toy has already done its fair share of high speed tours of the garden

She is however unusually clingy and I’ve got to be honest, I’m quite enjoying it. If I pick my moment carefully I can get some really soppy cuddles that the Beanie of old would never have tolerated. They don’t last long (the record thus far is 20 seconds) and afterwards she usually has to regain her street-cred by trying to hump Susan, but still, I’ll take what I can get. She’s even been more controllable on the beach during offlead romps, though Biggles is trying hard to fix that and I think he’s likely to win. The only downside to all of this is the thought that it could be happening because she felt abandoned during her stay at the vet. As much as we love her, we’ve often joked that Beanie doesn’t care who she’s with as long as she’s getting regular food and a sofa to stretch out on, but maybe there’s something more than cupboard love there after all. That said, if either Susan or myself were to be struck down by a heart attack on a walk, I’m pretty sure Beanie would see it primarily as an opportunity to raid our pockets.

Mercenary Beagle? Who? Me?

Another change since Beanie’s illness is that Biggles has expanded his passive vocabulary. Like many dogs he knows about “walkies” and “biccies”; he also knows that if he acquires a sock he can trade it for a “nice thing”, and that he’s got to be ever watchful for a “pussycat”. Recently though he’s learned that “creme fraiche” is definitely worth an urgent departure from the sofa.

Even if you’re asleep you should keep on ear open for any mention of creme fraiche

Strictly speaking he’s never actually had true creme fraiche, but that’s how we jokingly refer to the dollop of natural yoghurt that’s been on his kibble ever since Beanie finished her course of antibiotics. And it’s good stuff, because no matter how hard he tries to obey the “Wait” command when his bowl is set down, some of that white stuff mysteriously ends up on his nose before he gets the OK to chow down.