Thursday, October 15, 2009

Yellow Lab Vs. Beagle

For 16 years, we shared our home with a yellow Labrador retriever. Waldo came from champion bird-dog stock, but somewhere, he missed the skills required for that specialty. He did know how to retrieve, however. Throw something, anything, and he would bring it back…until one of us dropped from exhaustion.
He loved tennis balls (what retriever doesn’t?), but also tried to return softballs at the park, interrupting games on the grassy fields. He would chase sticks and pinecones we threw for him in our yard, and he learned to capture a Frisbee in his mouth. He had his own football – a deflated full-sized leather ball. We couldn’t take him fishing, because he was adept at retrieving our bait.
Waldo was an important part of our family’s life, and when he grew old and we knew he wouldn’t be around much longer, we talked about finding another yellow. We couldn’t imagine life without that brave, loyal, sensitive creature who wanted nothing more than to please us and who could be crushed by a stern word.
So when Waldo died in 2007, we got Hunter… a beagle.
We called him the “anti-Lab.” He would retrieve when he felt like it. He was sensitive, but to his needs, not ours. Brave? Not so much. Loyal? As long as there wasn’t an intriguing scent to follow.
At first, we wondered if we had made a mistake. We could still get another Lab, we told ourselves. But then something happened – we started to understand beagles. We started to really like Hunter.
There were tradeoffs. We can never, ever let Hunter loose. He is controlled by his powerful nose, and will follow it anywhere. He was easy to housetrain, but difficult to train on a leash. Again, that nose thing. For months, I dragged him through the forest, his stubby feet leaving long skid marks on the pine needle-covered trails.
But we eventually realized he has a short-dog complex – he’s all bravado on the outside, but trembling on the inside. He has a complicated bark vocabulary – low and growly when he wants to warn off a threat; that classic beagle bay when he wants to be heard, and a soprano version of that howl when he reserves only for the squirrels that taunt him on our deck.
Now, Hunter is an important part of our family’s life. We are whole again – people, dogs and cats. And we are very, very noisy.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

How we came to acquire a beagle

It's kind of a long story, but it makes sense. Try to keep up. Our daughter's boyfriend (whom we really disliked) gave her a pitbull puppy he got from a woman standing outside a grocery store. Our daughter had just started looking for an apartment, and realized most of them allowed only small dogs.  We found the pitbull puppy a home, and our daughter found an apartment. "But I really want a dog to keep me company," she said.  "Of course," we said. We researched smallish breeds. "I'd love to have a beagle," she said. "Of course," we said. We found an ad in the newspaper and traveled two hours to a farm to look at a boisterous litter of beagle puppies. "I want this one," our daughter said. "Of course," we said.  "His name is Hunter," she said. "Of course," we said. We brought him home.  On the drive home, we realized Hunter wasn't an apartment dog. He was really, really loud, and really, really...active. So he came to live with us.  My husband and I love this dog - I love him the most.  Our daughter loves him, too.  She still calls him her dog, even though he's our dog (he's really my dog).  "He's my beagle," she says. "Of course," we say.