No More Woof!

Posted on January 11, 2014 by Paul

The “Nordic Society for Invention and Discovery” has developed a device that reads the brain activity of doggies and translates recognized patterns into human speech. They’ve called this device “No More Woof”. Apparently it’ll come with a selection of different dog characters – each with their own voice and phrasing style – so you can pick one that more closely matches your own dog. However, looking at the characters currently on the No More Woof website I see a bulldog, a terrier, various toy dog breeds, a poodle, a whippet and so on, but not a single Beagle. I wonder why this could be?

Is the NSID anti-Beagle?
Is it because Beagle brainwaves are too hard to read?
Is it because Beagles spend so much of their time contemplating high level concepts that such a puny device couldn’t possibly translate? (Unlikely, if you ask me)
Could it be that endless repetition of certain stock phrases could make the device particularly tiresome to Beagle owners. For example, how many times a day do you think you’d end up hearing the following:

I want your food!!

I’ve just farted and I don’t care!

One other possible reason for the lack of a Beagle character could simply be that Beagles are the potty-mouths of the dog world. I’m in no doubt that Beanie & Biggles use way more foul-mouthed expletives on a daily basis than even I do. Whatever Beanie keeps saying to the overweight Collie at the local farm, I’m sure it isn’t printable. And the other day when Biggles tried to slurp out of Susan’s coffee mug but found that it was too hot and growled at it.. well that growl wasn’t saying “fiddlesticks” I can tell you. And don’t get me started on what he says about the neighbors and the postman. Yep, I reckon if there’s ever a “No More Woof” product for Beagles it’ll come with a PG rating, an advisory note about foul language, and the voice of Gordon Ramsay.

Christmas 2013: Snake attacks and Duckicide

Posted on December 27, 2013 by Paul

Last year we spent Christmas Day shivering around the so-called “Arrochar Alps”. This time we went for a less adventurous Christmas; Susan prepared the nosh while I took our two munchkins out for a cold and windy but otherwise very pleasant run on the beach:

Usually high winds make Beanie & Biggles hyper and they sprint about like crazy during their mid-run offlead play, but this time they were pretty quiet. I suspect they were still somewhat pooped from the previous night’s walk in Troon. It had been really windy then, almost gale force windy, and the two of them had been darting about all over the place on their extending leads, covering probably 6 times the distance of the actual walk. At one point Biggles fell behind to examine something disgusting, then – as often happens – he got the idea of sprinting back up to Beanie and shoulder-barging her. Unfortunately a sudden gust gave him unexpected acceleration and he nearly ended up embedding his head in Beanie’s bum. He’d have been on the receiving end of some cross words if she hadn’t been so obsessed with speed sniffing that she didn’t even notice the rear-ender.

Anyway, back to Christmas Day. After a thorough feeding and a short nap, it was time for the presents. Choosing presents for people can be tricky enough, but it can be really tough to get it right when you’re buying for doggies. Obviously food always goes down well, but when it comes to things like toys, you can never be sure how they’re going to be received. Some things can go down a storm, while others barely get a sniff. Since squeaky yet robust soft toys had worked out pretty well earlier this year for their birthdays, we followed the same formula for Christmas; Biggles got a heavily stitched squeaky duck, while Beanie got a 3 ft rope-filled snake with a squeaky head and rattling tail. The snake – Susan’s choice – was an instant hit with the Beanster!

She just couldn’t get enough of Hissing Sid, and despite some serious rough-housing on the day and in subsequent play sessions, he’s still going strong and is her favorite toy by far.

Sadly, the same cannot be said of Biggles’ duck. As soon as the wrapping was off, Biggles grabbed him and took him out of the room and into the “corridor of doom” with a very purposeful trot; the kind of trot that’s usually reserved for socks that are about to be, er, heavily modified. Susan went after him and ushered him back in within a minute, but the duck had already lost his supposedly tuggable rope tail.

Biggles is normally pretty gentle with soft toys, but apparently this duck had awakened his hunting instincts. He drew back onto his rear legs and pounced. The tail-less duck was shaken mercilessly, its stitches were pulled apart, and it’s soft felt-like back was ripped open.

After barely 3 minutes of frenzied play, Mr Duck had to be confiscated for safety reasons.

Yep, The Bigglet can be a fearsome killing machine when he wants to be. Duvets respect him, smelly socks fear him, and many freshly cooked peanut butter cookies have met an untimely end in his deadly maw. Rest in peace Mr Duck, your sacrifice gave my boy an enjoyable if brief play session, and left a mercifully small dent in my wallet.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone who isn’t a squeaky duck!

Florence Nightingbeagle

Posted on December 22, 2013 by Paul

Christmas is almost here and its injury time again, but thankfully this time it’s us humies that are the “walking wounded” and not our Beagles. My injuries are pretty minor and easy to self-treat: golfer’s elbow and rotator cuff issues. Susan on the other hand is living the nightmare that is sciatica. It’s been troubling her at a background level for some time, but about a week ago it hit full force and the pain she’s had to endure has been frightening. Our doctors have done what doctors do best: handed out pills. Lots of ’em. When we went to the chemist to cash in Susan’s prescriptions I think we pretty much emptied their stock: Tramadol, Cocodamol, heavy duty anti-inflammatories, diazepam to ease muscle spams, and a neuropathic pain treatment that I can’t pronounce and therefore refer to as “armpit trampolene” (amitriptyline?). I tell you we’ve almost got enough to open up our own internet pharmacy. Just think, the next time you get one of those pharmacy spam emails offering drugs without prescription, delivered direct to your door in discrete packaging and all at a bargain basement price, it could be from us!

Ever sensitive to our troubles, The Beanster – our own little Florence Nightingbeagle – has been doing her best to nurse us through this crisis. Any time Susan has been trying to lie still while her pain meds kick in, Beanie has been ready to offer vigorous leg humping therapy. On occasions where Susan has had a glass of milk to line her stomach prior to taking her pills, our selfless little girl has tried to help her mum to drink the milk. And of course she’s always eager to help with the housework, especially things like cleaning the dishes.

Got some stubborn stains that the dishwasher can’t shift? Use a Beagle!

Biggles’ response to Susan’s predicament has been more conciliatory. He’s tried to keep his Mum warm and cosy by snuggling up to her, and has frequently offered his tummy for tickles; not for his own gratification you understand, but simply because he read somewhere that petting a dog can be very soothing.. for the human..

The Bigglet was also a genuine help to me when I was decorating our Christmas tree. That job usually falls to Susan because my approach to arranging the lights, tinsel and decorations is often too algorithmic, too balanced. This time around there was no option but for me to do it, but my waggy little assistant provided a necessary injection of chaos that resulted in what I think is a reasonably good tree. And amazingly he didn’t pull it over once!

Let me help with that Dad!

Christmas tree assistants always get treats. Them’s the rules!

Yep, job’s a good-‘un

Anyway, against all the odds we are finally just about ready for Christmas. I don’t need it to be white or merry; I’ll settle for uneventful & pain-free!