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A DAY WITH A BEAGLE
By George T Philibin
Every day, the same time each morning, they put me out to go to the bathroom, then back in. I only get about four barks out when I hear, "Quiet" from our next door neighbor. His dog, old Charlie, just wants to lie around all day on the back porch; occasionally Charlie growls at a crow that lands, but for the most part he lies around and sleeps. What a life! Boy, don't you ever think that I'll be like Charlie. Nope, not me.
Sharon knows when I'm finished, and to tell you the truth I want back in today. It's cold out here, snow on the ground and my corner in the dinning room seems to be calling me.
And that's one call I always answer to in these morning; you see it's by a radiator and I have a good view of the downstairs.
In my comfy corner I watch Chris go into the kitchen. He'll go to the coffee and pour himself a full cup, but he'll only take two or three sips. Two or three sips, mind you, but you should hear him scream if the kids don't finish their supper. He always says, "You shouldn't take so much! Take only what you can eat!" He should see himself in the morning with his coffee like I do.
But he's a good guy. Yes he is; he takes me for long walks, gives me the best food, and always takes me to the Vets if the least little thing is wrong with me. I kind of wish he would leave the Vet part out! But what the hell, nobody has a perfect life.
Now Sharon is the one I can pull stuff on. Yeah--a little whine here, a "bif" there, the old sad eyes and lowered head, or just the sad stare, and before you know it I have all the bones and dog biscuits I want. Yeah, she's a real sweetheart that Sharon is, and she even slips me Candy and lets me sleep in bed with her sometimes, although Chris gets a little jealous I think.
It took me awhile to train them all, but Sharon was a fast learner.
However, we have two teenagers, Vincent who thinks he's a real hunk---he lifts weights but you'd never know it---and Apollonia. What a name that is. I heard them say she was named from some movie years ago with a prince in it, but don't quote me. Vincent calls her apple-head most of the time especially after a fight, which happens at least once a week. Apollonia hates her name. She says it's old fashion!
The other morning was a real treat; you see Apollonia likes to live in the bathroom each morning. I don't know why? There's nothing in there much, but that mirror hanging over the sink must have some magic in it. Apollonia stares into it so much that she must see something important. I never figured out what it was.
Vincent wanted in the bathroom. Apollonia wasn't finished yet and as far as she's concerned, the bathroom belongs to her.
Vincent roared with, "Mom, I have to get ready for school. She's been in there over a half-hour!"
I heard Sharon call upstairs requesting Apollonia to hurry. A few minutes later Apollonia appeared in the kitchen as Vincent stormed upstairs, but Vincent's a wise guy, and he had to get one in with "That poor mirror must be blind by now!"
Of course Apollonia can't leave this alone; she screamed, "Well at least I don't go to some smelly gym and pump iron thinking I'm Arnold Schwarzenegger! Duhhhh........"
And every morning Sharon repeats her well practiced phrase: "Ok you two-- knock it off right this minute."
These teenagers never learn, do they? Take Apollonia. One day I had to go out real bad! Know what I mean? I pawed at the door, ran into the living room---Apollonia had the phone glued to her ear--- and yelped. Do you know what she did? She just ignored me!
Well, I ran back to the kitchen door again, then back to her, thinking she would get the hint. But no! She didn't even notice me this time.
As Nature became more violent within me, I knew I had to think fast. I strolled over to Apollonia, lifted my leg skyward, aimed at her leg, and stared with a look that said, "Well, your move!"
That worked! And boy did it work; Apollonia shot to the kitchen so fast I couldn't keep up with her, and by the time I got there she was holding the door wide open for me like a doorman at the Hilton.
As I ran out into the back yard and sniffed; I knew that the world would be Ok again.
Chris follows the same routine. Two or three sips from his coffee, a quick glance at the paper---a couple of good mornings to the teenagers, and sometimes he gets a response but not too often--then his coat goes on, a kiss to Sharon, and "I'll be home at five."
Not long afterwards the teenagers bounce out, then Sharon comes over, puts her hand under my chin and says, "I'll be back. Don't worry. I'll be home before you know it. You just go to sleep on the chair and don't worry about anything." As if I really worry. Just make sure you have the dog biscuits you promised.
I always give her the old sad eyes, and that's usually good for another pat on the head.
With Sharon the last one out, I have the whole house to myself. Peace and quiet! Yes sir, the whole house to myself!
After checking out the teenagers' rooms-- I usually find something interesting there-- I check out my master's bedroom.
One day Vincent had a bag of something under his bed, and he hid it up on the bed-boards, and the more I sniffed at it the dizzier I became. It was weird stuff, but his friends and him liked it. They would roll it into a long thing, then smoke it when nobody was home, except me. Boy that smell was awful.
But, nothing much today. A new picture of some boy on Apollonia's desk, but then again almost every week a new picture pops up there. She sure likes her pictures, every wall has big pictures of guys holding those guitars and making noise, but you can't hear the noise from the pictures. No, you have to put one of those flat round things in that machine over there. But when she does that, I usually run outa her room. Sharon and Chris don't seem to like her noise either, but Vincent never says much about it. In fact, he has his own noise, but he usually listens to it with those things over his ears.
Chris left his socks in the corner again, and Vincent spilled some soda on his rug--Dr. Pepper I think-- and a bag of Doritos half gone is under his bed. Well, at least I hit pay- dirt on that one: I love Doritos.
I check again---sometimes one can miss on the first look and sniff---but I can't find nothing else.
Apollonia never has food in her room. She's always on one of those diet, which for the sake of me I can't understand. Hell, I'd eat all day! Just pile it on and watch it disappear! But not Apollonia. No, she didn't eat for two days once, and Sharon threatened to take her to see a shrink. I don't know what a shrink is, but it sounds to me like a shrink ought to be able to make you skinny. And that stupid stuffed lion on her bed. Oh boy, just one of these days! One of these days! And she has a large mirror on one of her walls. She stands in front of it and dances! Yes, I've seen her. Like she is trying to shake fleas off herself, and one time when she didn't know I was in her room, she was shaken fleas off herself with nothing on!
Down stairs, I inspect each room but always start with the kitchen first. Vincent is a sloppy eater and toast is often under his chair. Chris, Sharon and of course Apollonia never seem to eat much, but not old Vincent. Every morning, one, two and sometimes three bowls of cereal chased down with toast---wheat bread with no butter---and a juice that comes from a bottle with a guy lifting up something over his head on the label. So you can see that under his chair a snack or two is always left!
Nothing changes much in the living room or dinning room, so with my house inspection completed, I jump up on the couch, hop up onto its back, and start looking out the front picture window.
Mrs. Craven across the street gets her newspaper, Mr. Martin shovels his driveway, and Buddy---a terrier four houses down across the street--- also stares out the front window. He sees me sometimes and barks, but today he's looking at the guy from the gas company who is holding a meter in his hand and walking in front of buddy's house. Buddy barks at him, and each time he barks his head rises and flicks the curtain up a bit. Buddy stays at the window all day sometimes. Really, some dogs don't have a life.
Melvin, the neighborhood cat, is casually walking along some hedges in front of Mrs. Cavern's house, and when Mrs. Cavern opens the front door to get her paper, Melvin assumes an aggressive posture, which is always ignored by Mrs. Cavern.
You know, I hate cats. Why are they allowed to roam free? I'm not allowed out unless my master has a leash on me, but not these cats! Nope, they can wonder around all day and night. It ain't fair. Nope, not fair at all. Melvin wonders across the street and has the nerve to walk right into our lawn. And to make matters worst, Melvin stares up at me, his tail waving in the air, his back arched up a little, and his eyes with a merry, "Tough luck pal" in them. It ain't fair.
Now Mrs. Alwine two doors down has a cat, but that cat has never been out of the house unleashed. She ties old Tubby up---I don't know his real name-- outside in the summer on a leash! Boy, you should see old Tubby fight with that leash! Around and around he goes but the leash always wins.
After a few more checks-- a couple of sniffs here and there-- the old eyes lids start to get heavy and my corner calls me.
Sharon finally gets home and out I go. As Nature finishes with me, Sharon lets me back in, but she is different now. She runs around the kitchen making supper, and just throws me a few dog biscuits.
By the time supper is ready, Apollonia is home, on the phone, and Vincent is down stairs pumping away at his weights.
After supper, everybody scrambles: Apollonia usually goes out, Vincent to he gym, and Chris and Sharon shopping or visiting friends. Sometimes they take me along, but not too often.
I usually get my walk around eight, then in front of the TV until eleven.
I kind of feel sorry for them, they seem to be running nowhere fast. All day long they run and go here, and go there, and do this, and that, but when the day is over they just come home. Then they either complain about bills, or the president or some senator who gave himself a pay raise---I'm not sure what a president or senator is but he must really run fast---and these things called the gas company and electric company? Why every time a piece of paper comes from those places, both Chris and Sharon fly around the house, turn off all the lights, yell at the kids to keep their lights off---once Vincent screamed out that it was battery powered, whatever that is--- and make sure the doors and windows are closed tight, then Chris adjusts something on the wall and the house gets colder!
Me, I'd find out where this gas and electric company lives, sneak over there, find their lawn, then assume the old arched back position with my tail pointed skyward and say, "Ok, Nature do you thing!"
**THE END**
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