 |
| Anibus the Egyptian God of the Dead |
A Bag of Dire Consequences
Chapter 3
Let me describe Mr. Beaureguqrd. He is about Four inches tall, about 6 inches
long, and weighs about 3 pounds. He has four white feet, a little blaze down
the front of his face with shoe button eyes that actually gleam! His coat is
mostly brown with his back mostly black. His little tail has a white tip at the
very end. I later discovered that this marking is very convenient. Let me tell
you about how he moves. YOU CAN’T SEE HIM! He is invisible. Not just quick, not
just fast, not just an Olympian of gold medal contention, but like Superman, he
is faster than a speeding bullet.
Like Pandora that was shut in a Box, I had
unceremoniously stuffed Beau into a small carry on bag that was to be his home
on our airplane ride back to Eureka. Like Pandora, when I put my hand into the
bag, all hell broke lose.
Teeth, little piranha teeth let me know the
unhappiness level of this little being. During this physical assault his head
popped out, and twenty two legs scramble out with furious intent.
One thousand HOWL level. One thousand screech level.
How could this very small little hound dog have such talents? Piranha teeth, 22
legs, and a set of tonsils that Pavarotti would be jealous of.
“Polly, Polly, He is getting out!”
Poor Paula, driving a car on the freeway, with the bag
of a puppy masculine Pandora on loose. Inhaling a large breath, and thinking
that I must be smarter than he, I sneak my hand behind him, and try to put him
back into the bag.
Swivel Head!!! Did you know that Beagles can swivel
head? His little head started to gyrate clockwise and now he is making an
airplane engine sound. He is going to lift off just like a helicopter!
“Polly, Polly, he is turning into a fighting
machine.” He is a miniature marine in
disguise! This is my dancing boy, my
little companion that will go on long
peaceful walks to Old Town
Once more I delude myself thinking that I have the
more intelligent grey matter. I throw my
leather coat over him believing that he will not be able to navigate in
the dark. He becomes a submarine. Crawling on his little belly, he finds the
light of day, and once more becomes Pavarotti.
Thinking was not the answer. Behave like a mother dog.
Smack the little beast. Instinct provides the answer, and it does work. Mother
beagles do it all the time, a little tough love is sometimes required. After
all we are on the freeway, and the thinking process is not solving the problem.
It works! Back in the bag he goes, but not with out his famous rendition of the
Marine battle hymn sung in Beagleize with Italian baritone overtones.
Polly is very
quite. I have broken my daughter’s ears, and she will never be the same. The
bag of dire consequences has had a strange effect on both of us. She being the
ultimate professional administrator pushed to the limit but enduring and me
feeling like the road taken this morning was a horrible mistake.
We did arrive at Polly’s work place and the ladies
came out to see this puppy of wonder. They lined up like aunties and grannies,
and each one wanted to hold him and make it all better.
Now comes the unbelievable part. When I opened the
travel bag, little Beaureguard looks at me with his small black button eyes
with an expression older than Anubis. Big difference though, Anubis is the Egyptian
God of the Dead, and Mr. Beauregurad was obviously the God of the newly born
Hound Puppies. He also smiled. Puppies can smile…it makes for good forgiveness
policy. He verily leaped into each woman’s arms and gave out with feverish
delicate puppy kisses. Not those nosily wet gross licking kisses which most
dogs give out, no his kisses were soft, loving, and beguiling.
 |
| The Beagle Smile |
“What did you do to him to make
him cry so desperately he seems like the perfect little gift of the Puppy Gods”?
Both Polly and I tried to
present our side of the cries that the ladies had heard on the phone, but there
was disbelief all around. After Beaureguard had made his conquests of his
female harem, we were told that we just didn’t know how to treat a new puppy,
and that they had books to give us for dog problems when traveling. “Just
give him a few drops of Night Song, and he will be good as gold”. This was the
advice of the woman who was considered a great source of natural products for
dogs and we were told we could find this at a Natural Food Store.
Climbing back into the car
we were quiet disillusioned about the whole idea of this new little being ever
becoming a domesticated puppy and the idea of a small dancing beagle was fast
becoming a dream filled with despair. What was going to happen on the way back
to Eureka