Beagles are often regarded as a hardy breed but out of the five we’ve sampled directly, only Daisy really displays that quality; the rest of ’em tend more towards the Laurel end of the spectrum, especially when it comes to their tootsies. I haven’t kept count of the number of roadside repairs and magic rubs I’ve given to Beagle paws, but I bet it’s a pretty big number. Beanie could not handle the gritty salt used on pavements and roads in frosty weather, and if Biggles got the littlest of spiky twigs stuck in one of his pads, he acted like he’d just been impaled by a telegraph pole. Poppy was also a frequent paw-lifter, but those three were all stoic superheroes compared to Monkey.

A couple of weeks ago someone trimmed the hedges along one of our frequent walking routes, leaving various woody bits and pieces on the path. Daisy’s confident little trot didn’t change in the slightest as she entered the debris zone, but the instant Monkey felt something foreign pushing in between his toes, that paw was off the ground. Unlike our previous Beagles, Monkey doesn’t stop and wait for assistance when he’s had a foot contamination incident, instead he prefers to go into limp mode. Now if you’re thinking that limping onwards is braver than simply stopping – a symptom of superior hardiness even – let me put you straight. Monkey limps on not because he’s tough, but because he’s found that limping attracts more attention – not just from me, but also from passers-by (and he does like an audience). This time around there was no-one but me to view the ensuing drama, which is a shame because I’d have loved it if someone had whipped out their phone and filmed it for posterity.

Anyway as one of his rear paws encountered the woody hedge remnants, Monkey raised it and limped further into the debris zone, whereupon his other rear paw also got twigged. With almost balletic grace he lifted his entire rear end off the ground and attempted to continue, but he couldn’t sustain this position for more than an instant; gravity was demanding that he put one of his rear feet back down – but which one? He tried one, didn’t like it and swapped, but he didn’t like that either, so he kept changing legs whilst still trying to limp forward. Suddenly things got even worse – first one of his front paws touched the debris, and then the other. Now all of his paws were affected and he wanted all of them in the air, but in puppy school he’d skipped all the classes on telekinesis and levitation, and physics wasn’t about to take a day off; it was either three paws on the ground, or a bellyflop onto the pavement. He went for the three paw option, but changed which three paws were involved from one second to the next. If you’re old enough and British enough to have seen comedy duo Morecambe and Wise’s signature skipping routine, well it was basically a very silly Beagle version of that:

It was hilarious from my position behind his bum, but I’d have loved to have seen it from other viewpoints. About 60 yards of contaminated pavement lay ahead of us, but my boy made it without needing a carry. He did however need four consecutive magic tootsie rubs afterwards, and the trauma from the incident stuck with him for some days afterwards; there were more paw lifts, but none were quite as comedic.

More shots:

Two years ago to the day we were reeling from the loss of little Poppy, barely three months after we’d lost Beanie & Biggles. In all the ways that really matter, things are much, much better now :)

Over the years my index fingers have become surprisingly powerful. I’m not talking about physical strength here; I’m talking about their ability to bend various furry and hairy critters to my will – a power ably demonstrated on the return leg of our main walk one day last week.

We were just a few minutes from home when we came upon an escaped black bullock. His head was around my chest height, and while he hadn’t bulked up to any great degree as yet, he wasn’t exactly a feather-weight either. As soon as he spotted us, he approached us slowly but with purpose. I considered turning around and taking a circuitous route back home, but that would have added a good 90 minutes to our walk, and I wasn’t wild about that idea. Instead, I made steady eye contact and pointed my index finger of authority (IFOA) right at him. It worked! He backed up and we walked straight past him. Daisy was kind of curious about him and kept looking, but Monkey just kept his head down and my legs firmly between him and this black-clad agent of Monkeycide.

A few seconds later the bull was behind us and things were looking good, so of course it was at this moment that Monkey felt compelled to halt our progress for a quick stress-relieving pee. Honestly it would have been much better if he’d waited until we were further away, and when I looked back I could see that the young bull was gaining confidence and attitude. He made a couple of charging motions towards us, each time slamming on the brakes after a short distance, but clearly trying to build up courage for something more serious. I gave him the IFOA again and reinforced it with a loud “Oi!”. Again it worked, but not wishing to push our luck I tugged Monkey into motion; soon the bull had given up on us and we were home free.

In the past I’ve used the same power-finger technique to subdue aggressive farm collies, stroppy geese and even monkeys.. well a particular Beagle boy called Monkey anyway.. but despite all this success, there is still one creature that remains immune to the IFOA: Daisy.

In fact she’s not just immune it, she’s downright disrespectful. If I point my finger at her to ward off a food raid while I’m having a TV snack, she’ll often lick my finger and then continue to make advances towards my nosh. About the only thing that really gives her pause is her harness; bring that into the room and she tries to hide her head. She’s two years old now but still seems to believe that if she can’t see her harness, it can’t see her and she won’t have to put it on. Statistically this strategy is not a winner, but it doesn’t stop her trying.

More photos:

OK, I’m not sure about this, but I think I might be just a little late with today’s walk…

I do want the walk Dad, but maybe we can skip the harness?

The daffs are out in force in our garden..

And most of them are still standing..

..despite all the wrestling and chasing that goes on!

Speaking of chasing..

..if you can’t always outpace your opponent you can still sometimes outsmart them!

More sunny days like this please!!