ndrosen | Entries tagged with beagles

When on a walk earlier today, I met a man walking a beagle named Max. Max, a large, solid beagle, bigger than my childhood friend Rex, sat down and happily accepted my pats and scritches; he might have been willing to stay that way for a long time, but then his attention shifted to someone more interesting than a new human. Two people were walking a small dog, so Max turned to look at the other dog. The new humans warned that their dog could be skittish, so Max’s master restrained him, and the other people and their pooch walked around us.

I commented on Max giving higher priority to another dog than to me, and his human agreed that Max liked to socialize with other dogs. Well, at least I’ve met another beagle.

At the farmers’ market this morning, I met old acquaintances: a younger woman, her father, and their hounds, Sarge and Bailey. Sarge is a beagle, getting old, and the veteran of two surgeries for oral cancer, but I am assured that he still runs around. Bailey is a longer legged hound of some sort, and reasonably calm and happy these days, although she was very skittish when I first met her. I petted both of them this morning; Bailey seemed to be more into sniffing my hand than into getting petted, but when I petted Sarge, that made her jealous, and she got closer to me.

Regarding the graying Sarge, I commented that we all get older, and asked the woman to guess my age. She demurred, but then guessed forty-five. I told her that I’m fifty-nine, and the father said that he was also fifty-nine. He certainly looks older than I do, and despite some gray in my hair, I look younger than my years; nonetheless, time passes, I notice changes in my body, and have no reason to believe that death will make an exception for me. For now, however, I can eat, walk miles, listen to music, and pet beagles; and I hope that I am doing some good in the world.

On Wednesday, passing a small park near the Patent Office, I saw a young man with two beagles, and stopped to say hello. One of the beagles, a tricolor named Murphy, let me pet him. The other was a darker furred beagle named Winston.

Before midnight, I’ll mark fifty years or so since a lady beagle gave birth to a litter of puppies, including one who would be named Rex Canine Beagle (I wasn’t very creative, although I did also have nicknames for him). We adopted him, supposedly about ten weeks old, from the Pennsylvania SPCA, where I was the one who picked him out. He was a tricolor beagle, not very brave, generally rather quiet, although fully capable of baying when circumstances called for it, a rabbit chaser in his younger days, a sad failure as a guard dog, usually eager to make friends with new guests, a hound who loved his dinner, an affectionate pet to the whole family, and specially bonded to me. He was my fur-friend, and I was his favorite human.

It’s hard to find loyal, affectionate, forgiving friends like Rex in the world, unless you adopt a puppy. Besides, Rex had such silken fur. If Rex was exactly ten weeks old when we got him, March twenty-sixth would have been his birthday, so that was the day we celebrated. Some day of the year ought to be the occasion to remember such a nice dog, so I will remember, and hope that a few readers will be moved to imagine my old companion, and perhaps to think of long gone dogs or humans or other creatures whom they have loved.

At the farmers’ market this morning, I renewed my acquaintance with two people, father and daughter, and their dogs, Sarge and Bailey. Sarge is an aging beagle, whom I petted a little, although he isn’t that into me; Bailey is a hound of some other sort, who greeted me and nuzzled my hand.

Sarge’s master had told me that his daughter was off in some other state with Bailey, but the two of them were in Arlington this morning. Bailey used to be very skittish, but today she was outgoing and affectionate. The woman told me that Bailey has become much less nervous, and apparently happier, so that’s one good thing in this imperfect world, and a tribute to her human or humans treating her with patience and kindness.

Emerging from the supermarket a few hours ago, I saw an older woman with a tricolor beagle, and asked if I might become acquainted. Although some of the local beagles do not reciprocate my interest in being friends, this hound, whose name is Biscotti, seemed to enjoy being petted, and climbed my left leg, scratching my knee a little before finding a better place for her paws on my shorts.

I told the lady about my childhood buddy Rex, also a tricolor beagle, and she said that Biscotti was a lab rescue, who had been used for breeding. I mentioned that we had adopted Rex from the Pennsylvania SPCA.

Tuesday morning, when I stepped out for a brief walk, I met a man walking his beagle; I hadn’t met the man or the dog before. The beagle permitted me to pat him, but he didn’t seem all that into me. I commented that it might be different if I had a sausage, and the man agreed that that would get the hound’s attention.

On the way to the farmers’ market this morning, I met a man with his beagle Baron (as in Snoopy’s antagonist, the Red Baron). I had encountered them before. Baron jumped up my leg, wrapped his forelimbs around my lower thigh, and eagerly accepted petting.

At the farmers’ market, I saw a man I know with his beagle Sarge, who didn’t seem that enthusiastic about me. The man explained that he hadn’t yet bought any meat, so Sarge didn’t have anything to be enthusiastic about.

I was walking to the supermarket Saturday, when I met a man walking a beagle, or something very like one. The hound sniffed at my legs, and touched his nose to me (I was wearing shorts), but when I tried bringing my hand anywhere close to him, with petting in mind, he backed off. The two of them continued their walk, and I commented to the man that the dog seemed friendly, but shy.

Friday afternoon and this afternoon, the weather was mild enough for shirtsleeves; snow is predicted for Sunday morning.

I have seen several posters seeking a lost beagle: a tricolor who weighs thirty-five pounds, described as lost and timid. People are asked not to chase him, but to call a telephone number if they see him. I hope that the human and the beagle are reunited.

At the farmers’ market today, I saw a couple of humans I know, with their dogs: Sarge the beagle, and the more recently adopted Bailey, who is some kind of hound mix. The previous times we met, Bailey was quite shy, and willing to give my hand a quick sniff, but not really to be petted. This time, however, once I started petting Sarge, Bailey inserted herself, and wanted to be petted too.

Sarge didn’t seem all that into me, and seemed more interested in the merchants’ booths. Surely, someone would give free samples to a poor, malnourished beagle?

Tuesday’s Washington Post included an article by someone who adopted a beagle whose first four years were spent as an experimental animal in a laboratory, which understandably left him psychologically damaged. I wonder whether his suffering accomplished anything that is now saving human lives, or whether he was only used for routine and unnecessary tests, or to enable someone to publish an obscure scientific paper.

You may remember Sarge the beagle, whom I have repeatedly run into at or near the farmers’ market; his family has adopted another hound named Bailey, and she’s more or less a beagle, although her long legs suggest that she could be part foxhound.

On Sunday, I met the pair of them, together with their humans. Bailey nuzzled my hand, but wouldn’t let me pet her. I was told that she is skittish, and doesn’t like being patted on the head, although she can be petted under the chin. I did pet Sarge, and as usual, he accepted it without paying me much attention. Together, they might make a friendly, amiable, appreciative, and pettable beagle.

On my walk this evening, I met a man walking a very amiable tricolor beagle, who jumped up on my leg twice to collect some pats. The hound’s name was Baron, and when I asked whether that was as in Snoopy and the Red Baron, the man confirmed it, so I said “Manfred von Richthofen” as I petted my new pal. Ich kann Deutsch ziemlich gut aussprechen.

After buying various items at the farmers’ market, I spotted my old acquaintance Sarge with one of his humans. Pretty much as usual, he let me pet him, but didn’t seem all that enthusiastic, and his human explained that he was hot. Perhaps some day I’ll meet him when he isn’t hot or tired.

Later, I met a large man with another beagle on a leash. I held out my hand, but the beagle didn’t seem interested in sniffing it, and the man explained that he was anxious about his mommy. Then a woman emerged from Starbucks with some coffee, and the beagle jumped up on her to greet her with delight. I reminisced a little about my long-ago beagle Rex.

On Saturday, I saw a couple I had met before sitting at an outdoor table, and the woman had their beagle, Wubby, in her lap. I greeted them, and got to pet Wubby, which he tolerated, but without appearing to be that much into me.

On Sunday, I saw a woman sitting on a bench outside Giant Food, and she had a beagle with her. I introduced myself as an admirer of beagles, and mentioned having had a beagle of my own growing up. The beagle, an eleven your old lady hound named Jasmine, let me pet her, and showed more interest in me than Wubby had, but then wandered away (just a couple of feet away, since she was on a leash). Then a man came by with a bag of purchases, presumably the husband or boyfriend of the woman, and Jasmine greeted him enthusiastically. I commented that she hadn’t seen him for several minutes, so no wonder she was excited.