Lara Zielin

So, you know how when you’re deep in the woods with no electricity and you’re sort of worried that a serial killer might be lurking around that next tree when suddenly your dog shows up carrying what you think is a skeleton of a murder victim?

Oh, you don’t?

WELL I DO.

And trust me, it will scare the pants off you.

Turns out our new dog Oliver, who is generally not the sharpest tool in the shed, is actually sort of decent at finding bones. Which, when you’re in the middle of nowhere and worried for your safety, is not what you want to see. Especially when he trots up to the campfire with an entire carcass in his mouth. Of a deer. That died. Probably during the winter sometime. Maybe.

Rob and I eventually realized it was a deer and not, say, a murder victim. Rob had fits of hysterical laughter. I was ready to cry. In fact, I may have actually cried. I don’t know. I think I blocked it out.

Of course our other dog, Amos, had to get involved in the whole chewing-on-dead-things debacle. Did I mention how happy they were? I felt bad for being so decidedly unhappy at the whole thing. Please note how they gnaw from opposite ends. File that under “how dogs share.”

Eventually, Rob had to toss the whole pile of dead bones onto a low portion of the roof. It was either that or burn it, and I didn’t want to inhale dead deer smoke all night. Just saying.

I don’t know what the whole lesson here is. Maybe something like “Don’t go into the woods with dogs.” Or maybe “Dogs are gross.” Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and go with that last one.

Dogs are gross.

If you have a dog and it’s not terribly inbred, then you know pooches learn the word “walk” pretty quickly.

That’s what happened with us, anyway. We’d be all like, “It’s a nice day. Maybe we should take Amos for a walk,” and his little head would tilt with interest, sometimes coupled with the single-ear flop. Like this:

Then he’d run for the door and start whining. With a beagle such as ours, this is tolerable for about five seconds before you give in and go on the stupid jaunt.

So then, like most canine owners, we started spelling the word.

He’d be lazing around like so, a sausage of quiet content …

… and Rob would casually remark, “I think it’s a lovely day for a W-A-L-K.”

And then whammo.

He’d learned the spelling, too.

After this, we got slightly more creative. W-A-L-K became “hoohoo the heehee,” spoken out of the corner of one’s mouth. Like it was film noir and you were also smoking a cigar.

“The natives look a little restless. I suppose we should [imagine Cary Grant here] hoohoo the heehee.”

But then that, too, eventually resulted in this.

Which wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t accompanied by the aforementioned whining, anxiety yawns, and scratching at the door. I mean, just because we say hoohoo the hee hee doesn’t mean we actually WANT to hoohoo the heehee.

So, this morning, we came up with a new expression. We’re at an all-time low here, people.

“Amos, the doctor will administer the colonoscopy now.”

Yes, you read it right. We’ve devolved to medical terms. Here, it results in one eye open. But no head tilt. Yet.

“Amos, I said, the doctor will administer the colonoscopy now.”

Nothing! We’re safe.

For now, anyway.

Amos is our beagle. If you need background on Amos, please read this or this.

Some beagles sit with Linus in the pumpkin patch and wait for the Great Pumpkin. Others crawl onto the kitchen table and lick the pumpkin seeds, which Rob roasted with Worcestershire and salt and pepper.

I love pumpkin seeds. I get them once a year. I wish I could say that Amos’s assault on the seeds made me grimace and throw them away in disgust, never to touch them again. One of those things happened. The others did not.

For those of you who wish to judge me, go for it. I bet you’ve never eaten food out of the trash can or employed the five second rule.

I bet you don’t have a beagle.

For the record, Amos also howled at the trick-or-treaters (scaring more than a few of them), ate candy from the candy bowl, and didn’t look as cute as the neighbor’s collie, which had been dressed up like a bee. All Amos got was an on-sale t-shirt at Target that had “Boo” written on it.

Still. He got the pumpkin seeds. So, technically, he wins.

I never claimed Amos was the smartest beagle. The naughtiest? Maybe. But his little canine brain is still trying to work some things out. Like whether the hose is friend or foe.

All I can say is, if Amos and the hose had a fistfight, I’m pretty sure the hose would win.