A few months ago I committed the ultimate sin of photographing the Beanster in one of her most private moments.

That photo made it into the latest edition of In Full Cry, the magazine produced by the UK’s Beagle Welfare charity, which happens to be Beanie’s favorite publication. I was rather pleased about that, but I don’t think Beanie appreciated having her toilet habits exposed in print.

Oh boy am I in trouble now…

There have since been repercussions: a slice of cake that was destined for my mouth ended up in Beanie’s, assorted mail has been torn up, and I’ve been subjected to a number of disruptive and often noisy visits when I’ve been working at my computer.

Biggles on the other hand would like nothing more than to have his chance at fame, even if it means compromising his modesty. All this attention for Beanie has hit him so hard he’s even considered relocating to another home.

Just seal me up and post me off to someone who’ll appreciate me properly..

Happily my little boy was dissuaded from this rather drastic course of action by a tummy tickle and a couple of chews. After all, every Beagle has his price.

I was temporarily knocked out of commission last weekend by a nasty bug – one of those 24 hour “feels like like flu” things that also comes with a free dose of diarrhoea. I spent virtually a whole day alternating between sleeping and making hurried but stumbling trips to the loo. In fact I was in such bad shape that even the Beagles seemed to be worried; Beanie kept visiting me whenever I was on the porcelain throne, and both her and Biggles insisted on sitting next to me on the sofa. This was a mixed blessing. Instead of being able to stretch out I was the cramped filling for a Beagle sandwich, and yet whenever a shivering phase started I was very thankful for my two furry hot water bottles.

As the bug started to lose its hold on me I reflected on my Beaglets’ behavior. Of course I wanted to believe they’d clung to me out of genuine concern for my well-being, but the cynic in me couldn’t shake the idea that they were just looking out for themselves. I’m pretty sure Biggles was just using me as a heated chin-rest, and as for Beanie, well let’s face it: an ill humie is less able to protect his food from a lightning Beagle raid; stick close to him, and you’re bound to get something! Come to think of it, she did come very close to nicking some bacon off my plate when my appetite returned.

Anyway, whatever their true motivation, they did sort of help to make that nasty bug more bearable so I figured they were due some kind of reward. As soon as I was able I gave them extra tug sessions in the house and a plod up and down the beach, but my batteries were still so drained that it was all a bit half-hearted. Today was better though, much much better. They got two local walks, an extended training/play session in the garden with me & Susan (shots below), and finally an energetic beach run.

Biggles starts first, with a demonstration of his weaving skills. Note how he correctly uses his ears to signal which way he’s going.

Not perhaps the most streamlined weaving you’ve ever seen, but he got the job done!

Next: ball retrieval. He’s very good at keeping his eyes the ball..

And there’s certainly no lack of enthusiasm on the way out…

..but the return to base part can be a bit ponderous and unreliable at times

But not this time. Result!

Next up: Beanie takes on the Ayrshire Mute Squirrel (he no longer squeaks due to a bad case of PTSD from Beanie’s previous play session)

Oh yeah, that squirrel is about to have another bad day

A very, very bad day!

Just play dead Mr Squirrel, it’ll be over quicker that way…

I figured they’d still be a bit pooped by the time we went for the beach run, but if anything the reverse was true; they were both revved up and raring to go. We set a good pace over the first couple of kilometers, then I stopped, dished out a bit of chicken and unleashed them for a romp on their own. They sprinted out along by the sea for maybe 150m, then Beanie – who’s always in command during off-lead sorties – turned them back for a second serving of chicken. Perfect! I fed them and sent them off for another romp, but this one didn’t quite go as well as the first; Beanie caught sight of a group of birds by the water and instantly the run turned into a hunt. She got remarkably close to them before they flew off, in fact I thought that for the first time in her life she might actually catch one, but it was not to be. The birds took off in the nick of time and headed out to sea, leaving Beanie fighting valiantly but ineffectively against the incoming waves. When she eventually gave up I grabbed another handful of chicken, expecting her to come sprinting back for a reload, but Biggles was now beside her, goading her into a chase, and she accepted. They had the most tremendous fun, and though I wasn’t keen on having the normally brief off-lead section of our run go into extra time, I must admit I enjoyed the show.  It took a while but eventually they returned, looking like over-sized half-drowned rats with comedy ears. Yes it had been a bit naughty, but at least it was the kind of naughty that puts joy in your heart.

In the land of the barefooted the Beagle boy with one sock is.. or should be.. king. Unfortunately, if  there’s suddenly a plentiful supply of socks due to a fresh wash, that Beagle boy and his prized possession might just end up getting ignored.

OK guys, I’ve got a sock and I’m ready to exchange it for goods and services!

Doesn’t anybody want to trade for my sock?

Clearly the bottom has fallen out of the sock market. I’m ruined. Destitute.

I may as well just sleep in the hall under the console table, like a poor homeless Beagle.

For the benefit of anyone reading this post who – like Biggles – has invested heavily in fabric foot garments and is now becoming alarmed, let me reassure you; the sock market has not crashed. There has however been a temporary trading embargo for naughty boys who’ve been nicking too many socks and refusing to come in from the garden unless offered a treat.

The timing of this is particularly unfortunate given that Biggles has only recently done something thoroughly laudible; he’s finally learned to jump into the back of the car rather than being lifted in. Now I know Beanie and every other dog in the known universe has been doing this since puppihood, but for Biggles it’s something new. It only came about because of my sore shoulder; I figured I could save myself some discomfort by teaching Biggles this new (to him) method of car entry. Needless to say I had to coax him to jump in using treats, and since then he’s been trying to get even more treats out of me by grabbing socks willy nilly and playing stubborn when coming back in from the outside loo. Still, the fact remains that at 5 years old Biggles can finally leap into the car like nearly every other adult dog, so progress has been made.

Out on our walk today it occurred to me that there might also be some progress in other areas, so I decided to test the one other skill that’s always eluded my boy: catching treats. I reached into my pocket and grabbed a handful of doggy biscuits and called him, but as often happens I got not one hound but two, both eagerly awaiting food. Of course I couldn’t treat one of them and not the other, so I threw a couple of biccies at Beanie first, in the hope that her speed and accuracy at treat catching would serve as an example to her brother. Unsurprisingly she nailed it perfectly.

Then I tried his lordship. Before I show you the result, you might like to click here and see his performance from more than three years ago. OK, now here’s the new improved 5 years old Biggles trying to catch a treat:

Notice how he closes the one eye that the treats aren’t even close to hitting. But at least this time he didn’t actually look away.

So, still some work to do there Mr Biggles. But socks, jumping into cars and treat catching still have nothing whatsoever to do with digging, which is in the title of this post. The digging comes in because last week I got to name a small crater on Mars to honor my two pups, and you can too by going here: http://www.uwingu.com/mars/. Unlike the earlier Bennu thing this is not free (naming a small crater costs $5 USD or about £3 GBP), and the name doesn’t really have any official standing, but it provides a bit of support for future space exploration and you get a certificate with a small map showing your crater. As for the name I chose for Beanie & Biggles’ crater, well…