Monkey is not the kind of boy to look a gift horse in the mouth, in fact I can’t recall a single occasion when he looked at any kind of horse in the mouth; he typically lowers his head, avoids eye contact and heads to the safer side of my legs when we encounter an equine. This is sensible; Monkeycide can happen at any time but it’s especially likely when there’s half a ton of metal-shoe-wearing monster in close proximity. At the same time, Monkey is well aware that as a Beagle he should always be ready to seize opportunities that could lead to food. These two guiding principles – avoidance of danger and acquisition of food – can be and often are in opposition. That’s why, when I gave the Monkster his first ever taste of blueberries, I was unwittingly plunging him into a most terrible dilemma.
I had four blueberries in my hand, and I offered the first one to Poppy. She took it politely but without hesitation, and quickly set about eating it on the spot. I offered the next one to Monkey, who cautiously took it in his mouth, but then immediately trotted down off the deck to the patio below. Back in the day Beanie & Biggles would routinely sprint off to their own separate spots in the garden on receipt of a treat, so I figured the Monkster was doing the same. It was only when I gave Poppy her second blueberry and offered Monkey his, that I saw signs of the internal conflict that was raging inside his big furry head.
Monkey had taken that first blueberry but hadn’t yet consumed it; having faced the daily threat of Monkeycide for over two years, he’s learned to treat all new food items with suspicion. Only when a potential consumable has been analysed using the most rigorous, evidence-based scientific methods can it be chewed and swallowed. (Note for any budding canine scientists: the currently preferred analytical methods involve throwing the item up in the air, pouncing on it where it lands, and rollling on it several times. In some cases the need for laying down and woofing at the item may also be indicated).
Just as he was about to begin examination of his blueberry on the patio, I offered him another, and things suddenly got very complicated. Should he skip the scientific process and gulp down an untested food item, leaving him free to acquire the second one, or should he risk losing that second blueberry opportunity in order to carry out his tests with due diligence? He vacillated, looking to the blueberry in my hand, then to the one at his feet, then to Poppy who was downing her second blueberry with gusto and apparently without ill effects.
Monkey wrestled with his indecision a moment longer before arriving at a risky compromise: he would leave his existing blueberry uneaten and unguarded, run to me to receive the second one, and then hopefully get back to his temporary patio laboratory to analyse both the blueberries together. I could see each thought echoed on his expressive face and did my best to help by bringing the second blueberry to him. In short order he had both of them on the ground by his feet, but he’d never conducted an examination on two things in one session, and certainly not under time pressure; Poppy was heading down to him and no doubt intended to score his berries.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to intervene to prevent Biggles from losing out to Beanie, and Monkey seems to have the same level of gormlessness. I reached down, picked up both blueberries just before Poppy reached them, and put one of them straight into the path of Monkey’s chewing gear. He was a little surprised, but then he just chomped and swallowed, happily accepting the second one. I’m not saying that evidence based Beagle science doesn’t have its place, but when there’s food at your feet and a hungry girly is closing in, sometimes it’s best just to shovel it into your gob and worry about Monkeycide later.
To finish, here are some more shots from the last couple of weeks:
