Quote:
|
Originally Posted by StN
Bailey the Beagle
Well, he's all grown up now. Getting a bit lippy in the middle of the night, so the breeder suggested we take him out on the special walk the do every fortnight over winter.
Now before anyone gets all anti-blood sport on me, they've been doing this for about ten years, and have never actually caught anything. These are Latté Beagles - even the farm dogs!
I think that's him in the middle of the pic - he looked overly skinny compared to the others, but the breeder said he was just right, and all the others were fat old buggers. Most of the show dogs were not there because a show was on, so we felt better after that.
Only about 12 dogs this time - hopefully at he next hunt there will be 40 odd, and they'll just all go nuts together. Naturally my one was the only one silly enough to fall into some logging pit that had filled with rain water and was about 2m deep - so we had the pleasure of wet dog smell all the way home! |
We stopped taking Bailey to hunts around about the time of the earthquakes once getting around town got tricky.
Instead, we'd take him for walks in the Bottle Lake plantation. One time, I took the daughter Geocaching, with an idea to do a grand tour and locate 5 or 6 of them. As soon as we got far enough away from the road, we unleashed the hound and let him run with the rabbits. We lost sight of him, but were sure with his keen sense of smell we would cross paths again, so trundled on looking for hidden treasures. Just as we were about to come home, I got a call from the wife - just checking up to see how we were tracking. "All good" I indicated, and she asked about Bailey - to which I replied that he is trotting around and we'll get him back on the leash shortly. She didn't sound convinced, then I heard him barking. On the phone. Seems he had left the park, wandered down the road and into someones house, who then checked with the dog ranger who got hold of Mrs Stn etc.
He survived with us through the quakes, and then when it was time to move on, we bought him a new kennel for the new house. He seemed to like his new location - the back fence opened on to a reserve, and he could meet other dogs at the gate as they had playtime, and sit on the outside furniture to watch people passing by.
The previous owners had installed a cat door for their lapdog - the plus side was that the property was Beagle proof - but Beagles are clever and on more than one occasion he Houdinied through the tiny space and then roamed the house, finding smelly treasures and burying them under pillows and in bedding. To this day the wife still can't find several shoes.
My son would take him for runs in the forest, which was even handier being only two blocks away. And after he moved to Otago, my daughter would walk him around the block - a sly 3kms, which he enjoyed.
Just after lock-down, he started slowing up a bit. It was getting colder, so we splurged on an insulated bed for him, and let him in all day while we were home. He seemed to have trouble eating, but if his food was raised he was good. Once up and about the seemed to perk up a bit, so we did a walk to the dairy and back to get an ice cream. He seemed to be trotting in a jaunty way once he realised. We did the dreaded trip to the vet as soon as level 2 allowed, and he was placed on some arthritis meds, which seemed to help heaps. But even then, after a couple of weeks, he stopped eating altogether. His stools were gelatinous, like slugs rather than normal dog turd. His hearing was going, and I think he may have scratched his eye pushing past chicken wire to check out why I had put frost cloth on the chillies. He was not well.
The family had a fair bit on at this point, and with Dad taking a spill and then succumbing to post op pneumonia a few days later, we were dealing with a lot late last week. I got up to him on Thursday night - he'd taken to wandering around the house if he needed to go out, triggering motion sensitive nightlights - but not this time - he just snuffled in his bed and looked up at me. I let him out, and he was limping on three legs, not able to flick his hind paw forward. Once he came back in after an unsuccessful attempt at doing what he thought he needed to do, I lay with him on the carpet. It was clearly time.
Friday dawned and the family got suited up for the doings at Dad's church. Mrs StN called it - the kids agreed when they saw him limping, and the appointment that was for the next Tuesday was brought forward to Friday afternoon.
We left him inside with the heater on to keep him comfortable, but when we returned at lunch time, he let out a yelp - I had no idea he was huddled against he door waiting for us. He was shivering, so daughter put her jacket around him.
Many cuddles and tears were had, then we took him for his last ride in the car. Past the forest, past the beach, and down to the vet.
His ashes will be scattered to the wind from the lookout at the top of the hill, where the grass grows long and the rabbits run free.
Bailey. Forever a puppy, even at 14.