Firstly Happy New Year to one and all. I have been fairly quiet over the festive period as there is quite a bit of activity going on in the house and I have needed to be good. As some may know, this can be challenging for a beagle who lives with a vampiric younger sibling. I may have been good at times.
Walks have been taken with sights and smells duly appreciated. It’s been drab and dreary here since New Year arrived. We have mainly walked the lanes as the rain has turned our field walks into a muddy quagmire in places and our assistants complain of slipping and sliding all over the place when trying to control us. They need four paw drive. The number of people out walking, running and walking their dogs has increased significantly so our walks haven’t been as solitary as we would have liked but you can’t have everything, can you?
This morning started like the previous two or three. The parents were lazing about until Lenny planted an excellently placed pounce on dads kidneys. After our first half breakfast we were away through the lanes sniffing rabbits and squirrels in the hedgerows and walking through the filthiest puddles we could find. Having returned home, we had our second half breakfast and then we thought it was time for our usual session of bitey face followed by some snoozing, all interspersed with regular trips to the garden to check on the Sciurus position. As I returned from my fourth foray into the garden I found myself harnessed up again and attached to my dad who told me to be good, whilst putting a bag of gravy bones in his pocket. I had suspicious ears. We marched quickly out of the house and soon found I was in the car park at the vets. This definitely wasn’t in the script for a lazy Sunday. In we go and I am trapped in the consulting room whilst dad then explains to the vet that, on a few occasions, I have been a little less than solid in certain areas over the past six weeks or so and my diet has been changed to make it blander and more accommodating to my bodily functions. I looked at dad to inform him that I had not authorised this conversation to take place, but he just ignored me. Typical. All the embarrassing details are laid bare and I haven’t seen these gravy bones in his pocket yet. The vet thinks I may have some colitis which is normal for a “beagle of my age” and that the bland diet is a good idea so it should be continued for a week or two. Again I didn’t authorise this change to my food.
Then to add insult to injury the vet noticed that my annual boosters were due about this time. Cue the stethoscope and being investigated in my ears, mouth and round the back. I am apparently in good shape for a “beagle of my age” and it was then that the gravy bones miraculously appeared from dads pocket. My suspicions were exceeded by my craving for said gravy flavoured snack and I missed the vet wander around behind me with a needle to ensure I had my boosters for another year. The liberty of it all. The shame wasn’t finished though as I was marched over to the scales and dad told the receptionist that I was fourteen kilos. How could he? In public? In a loud voice? Whilst rolling his eyes? The only redeeming factor was that dad had to pay for my travails so this put a slight spring back into my step for the return home.
Quick session of bitey face with Lenny, followed by my dinner and I now find myself snoozing on the sofa whilst allegedly kicking mum in my sleep. I have no idea what she means.
And apparently Lenny missed me whilst I wasn’t here. Nice to know someone loves me.