Uncomfortable Place for a Beagle, Isn’t It?

July 4, 2005 at 9:23 pm (Daily Dookie)

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I have an anally inserted Beagle.

Well, not literally, butt figuratively speaking, she's become almost a part of me. By "almost a part of me" I mean that every damned time someone lights off a shell around here, I suddenly feel like I've grown a tail.

My Beagle's from a long, long, distinguished line of hunting stock. I know she is because I saw what her mom does when she hears gunshots. She perks up, strains at the lead, anxious for the hunt. Her beloved daughter, Danielle T. Beagle, on the other hand, howls and dashes for the underside of whatever I'm sitting on, in or, if what I am on or in has no underside, she piles on top of me, curling up so tightly that I would swear I now am tricolored and have the cutest little tippy-tail.

If I were in any way able to take her hunting, I'd worry about this. But since she's just Mommy's little monster, I'll just scritch her less-fat-now tummy and kiss her soft, velvety ears until the fireworks are over.

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