Let Sleeping Beagles Lie

I watched a very violent movie last week. Approximately eleventy-zillion people were killed. Most of them were shot by the “hero”—a man who had clearly spent more time at the gun range than in anger management classes.

What did I learn from this movie? I want a beagle puppy. I really, really want a beagle puppy.

The movie’s hero had one (at least briefly, until someone killed the thing and kick-started the movie’s 90 minute plot-free killing spree).

To be clear, I want a beagle puppy, but I know I cannot have one. The reason? When perfectly normal dogs stay near me too long, they quickly become ill-mannered or mentally ill. Every. Single. Time.

Our first Great Dane had a boob obsession. Whenever a friend of ours (who had a rather generous set of boobs) showed up, he’d nestle his head in her cleavage and gaze lovingly into her eyes while soaking her bra with drool. She did not find this as amusing as you might think.

Our second Great Dane chewed his own leg off (in my defense, the people who gave him to us had spray-painted the bare spot on his leg so we wouldn’t see what he was doing). Despite multiple vet visits, drugs, cones of shame and laser treatments, we ended up with a three-legged dog.

We had a Border Collie. Border Collie’s are smart, active, easily-trained dogs. Not mine, of course. Mine stole food, slept constantly and pretended she was deaf. She was a furry (and obese) Rip Van Winkle.

We adopted a small, beagle-like dog. A dog who ran away—almost daily—to a neighboring farm. That home was crowded, poorly-insulated and full of young kids who pulled her ears. Apparently, being cold and tortured was preferable to living with me.

We adopted a dog that was so hyperactive he’d spend hours running from window to window (to window to window to window…) carving grooves in the floor while barking frantically at our ducks. If anyone opened a door, he’d race outside, chase a duck into the pond and paddle behind it until he was too tired to keep his head above water.

So I want a beagle puppy but—to prevent further blows to my self-esteem, and further suffering to the canine community—I cannot have a beagle puppy. Instead, I will stick with my (relatively) normal cats—Mr. Aloof and Sir PukesAlot.