The youngsters are really growing into their roles as the new Beagle A-Team, in fact they’re doing so well it’s tempting to think they’ve been getting help; maybe the spirits of Beanie & Biggles are whispering in their big floppy ears when they’re asleep.
For example, ever since getting access to the humie bed Poppy has taken a strong liking to it, and is constantly looking for new ways to get in there when she shouldn’t be. Quite recently she’s taken to crying in her crate in the very early hours of the morning – not constantly you understand – but Beanie-style, which is to say just a little whimper here and a whimper there at seamingly random intervals, like an intermittently dripping tap.
The first time this happened I assumed Poppy wanted a pee, but the true cause was revealed the instant I opened her crate: in one impossibly swift movement she darted round me, leapt onto the bed and inserted herself into Susan’s arms. “See, I’m settled in here already so you can’t put me back in my crate now Dad!” is what the body language was saying. Well I did put her in back her crate, and when the same thing happened the next night, I was ready for it. I opened the crate just enough to let Poppy out in a slow and controlled fashion, and the second she looked like she was turning towards the bed, I shoved her right back in and bolted the door shut again. “I’ve got your number little Popster!” I said, “You can’t catch me out even at four in the morning!”. After 16 years with Beanie & Biggles, you’d think I’d know never to openly challenge a Beagle to a game of wits.
The next night/morning the whimper tap started dripping again. I know I should have ignored it, but both Susan and I really wanted our sleep, so I chose to give Poppy the benefit of the doubt. I carefully & slowly opened the crate, and Poppy emerged, showing no signs of diverting back to the humie bed. “OK, go into the hall and I’ll get the alarm off “. She trotted straight into the hall, head pointing towards the kitchen door and the route out into the garden. It took about 2 seconds to disable the alarm but when I’d done, Poppy was no longer in the hall. I knew exactly where she was. I extracted her from our bed and put her back into hers, vowing not to be caught out again.
The next night the Poppy alarm clock went off a bit earlier and although I was even more bleary eyed, I knew what to do.
Step 1: stub right big toe on door and curse as quietly as possble even though it really hurt.
Step 2: disable the alarm, open the kitchen door and baby gate so that there’d be no pause or opportunity for distraction on our way to the garden.
Step 3: stand by the crate and very quietly tell Poppy: “this had better be a real pee request, or you’re going back to the puppy shop you naughty little git”.
Step 4: open crate and track Poppy very carefully, muscles sprung and ready to catch the pesky little varmint if she doubles back.
Poppy headed out of her crate with an urgent trot, making a beeline for the kitchen. Clearly this was the real deal; she geniuinely wanted to use the outdoor facilities. I made a mental note to put more effort into making sure she gets final pee before bed in future, but at least this current interruption in my sleep wasn’t frivolous. “Good girl” I told her, “we’ll soon have you in that garden”. I relaxed out of my ready-to-respond state and the instant I did so, without even looking round at me, Poppy sensed it, did a 180 faster than a frightened rat and flew into the humie bed.
I am going to win this. I just need a bit more time and practice. And perhaps an uninterrupted night’s sleep.
Monkey has clearly been receiving messages from Biggles. I’ve caught him sneeking into our wardrobe and making a bed in there several times now – just like his mentor – and he’s been nicking items of clothing and parading them proudly around the house. Biggles has made it clear that socks are off the table as they’ve always been so clearly a Biggly thing, so Monkey is focusing on gloves. Actually it would be more correct to use the general term “hand-coverings”, as he seems equally partial to mittens. Regardless, it’s lovely once again to hear the scampering of a little Beagle boy who’s excited about his latest acquisition.
