Thursday, July 17, 2008

Accidents happen

I've been having "accidents" in house. I just get so excited that I forget to go outside. Actually I don't think it's fair I get in trouble for going in the house, my dads do ( they have this little room all their own) and those stinky cats do ( they have this wonderfully smelly box). So why can't I?
My dads have been real good though, they do scold me and I get my feelings hurt, but I know they still love me. I think Bandit and I need our own place to go in the house. We should stage a protest. It's just not Fair.

Lots of Licks


Wednesday, July 16, 2008

A note from a Beagledom Dad: I saw this on another site and it just broke my heart when reading it. I had to post it. We just adopted 2 beagle sisters from Seattle Beagle Rescue about a month ago. It hurts me to think our girls could have suffered this fate. I encourage anyone seeking a new companion or know of anyone seeking one to contact your local rescue organization or animal shelter.

HOW COULD YOU? By Jim Willis, 2001

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend.

Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together.

I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.

Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."

You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.

When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room.

A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place.

And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

A Note from the Author: If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American & Canadian animal shelters.

Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a non-commercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice.

Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay & neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.

Jim Willis

Saturday, July 12, 2008

A little down time.

As you can see we are settling into our new home just fine. Dad took this picture of us napping on the window seat. He's always snapping that camera thingy at us. He said he wanted to post this as one of the times we were actually being good. I guess he didn't see the mess we left in the bathroom. Aroooo!

Lot's of licks,

Bug & Bandit

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Bandit here....I'm in the dog house as they say. Today one of my dads played hookey from work and he took me and Bug out to a doggie park and for a walk. The dog park was great, even if no other doggies showed up. There were lots of new things to sniff. We then went for a long walk and went back home. Just when dad was taking Bug and I out of the car I "accidentally" slipped out of my harness and went on a freedom run. Now I really like to play chase and dad was great to indulge me, ALTHOUGH I don't think he had as much fun as I did. We ran all over the neighborhood all the while dragging Bug along with us. When dad finally caught me....well it wasn't pretty. So I'm TRYING to lay low for a while while dad cools off. When my other dad came home from work I got a long lecture and no amount of kissies would shut him up. Geeze I don't know what the big deal was, I love running around and checking things out. But I don't think I'm going to be able to do that again for a while. Dad said something about obedience training and lockdown. I don't know what that is but it doesn't sound good. I even tried the "look" with both dads and it didn't work. Dad says I'm trouble with a capital T. But I know they still love me. How can they not?


Friday, July 04, 2008

Hello I'm Bug (aka Luv Bug). My sister Bandit and I have been here at our new dads for a couple of weeks now and boy are we having fun. They take us everywhere with them and there are alot of new things to see and snif. They even took us shopping to the doggie toy store and got us new harnesses and leashes and let us pick out a toy and some treats. Boy our dads are cool, even when they scold us for getting into things. And we get into Everything. I'm beginning to think that my sissy's name is really "Bandit NO!".They love us anyway and let us snuggle up with them and give them lots of kissies. We are "almost" getting along with those stinky cats. Baneda just stops and looks at us and try's to hypnotize us. I think it works sometimes because I just freeze into place and my mind wanders. Poppy on the other paw likes to chase us and we LOOOOOOVE to chase and be chased. For some reason I don't think she thinks it's as fun as we do. Oh well. We are having a great time and feeling right at home. I hope everyone in the USA has a great July 4th.