This episode marks one year of writing, recording and editing my Back Window podcasts and this is the thirty-seventh episode. I began writing these stories for my children and grandchildren in hopes that they could better understand me and the times I lived through. I decided to put them into the format of podcasts so I could say things the way I wanted them to hear them. I have been flattered and astounded that so many of you have expressed your enjoyment in listening to or reading the stories. Thank you for all the kind remarks. You have lightened the feeling of captivity during what we will call the Covid Year. For the one year anniversary, here’s a slightly different story I call:
April Foolishness about Bailey the Beagle
I have been pretty good about not sharing my personal problems in this podcast but sometimes I just have to let things out. Lean in, I am not sure how to say this and don’t want to be misunderheard…Bailey the Beagle ain’t right. God know we’ve tried. After spending waaaay too much money on a trainer, Bailey still gives not one damn what we want to happen.
Here’s what we have to live with. He is all nose and curiosity. If he catches an interesting scent, he forgets everything else. I can stand beside him calling his name and whistling and he will not even look my way.
And another thing, anytime the hall door is not completely closed, the dastardly beagle is off at a dead run to get to find a treasure in one of the trash cans. He slows down only enough to grab a tissue and off he goes. He laps the entire house at a dead run then does a spin move and laps the other way.
We’re not talking a playful puppy here. The dog is 35 years old in human years and should know better. We can’t blame hormones because we had his testosterone clipped and besides, testosterone gets the blame for way too much around here anyway. The procedure was supposed to calm him down but I think it just made him resentful.
Once tearing through the house gets old, he goes to a downward facing human yoga pose and despite the tissue in his mouth, bares a full set of teeth in a vicious snarl. I will grant you, it is all bluff. However troublesome Bailey is, he has never tried to bite anyone. He is like a canine Puff Adder.
I am no psychologist although I once played one in community theater, but the dog shows marked bi-polar tendencies. Most of the day he chooses to sleep on the couch close to his staunchest defender, Cheryl. However, the moment anyone walks the street behind the house, he is up and clawing at the door and baying in full Hound of the Baskervilles mode.
Our credibility with the neighbors is completely shot. We have no choice but to let him out before he takes down the door. I try to sneak open the door just enough to let him out without being seen but it never works. Bailey is out and loud and I have to shrug a sheepish “Can’t control my dog” wave.. The street is thirty yards beyond the limits of his fence but Bailey is not dissuaded by the distance. Neighbors must believe we have set the dogs on them. (He sounds like several. It is a gift he has.).
Bailey is like a mockingdog. He can imitate the sound of a rabid rottweiler to perfection. Delivery guys and gals (Bailey is not gender specific in his territorialism) throw packages on the porch and try to scurry back to the truck without looking over their shoulders. I know that because we have a Ring doorbell. Sometimes it beats Netflix hands down for entertainment. No one, and I mean no one gets to our door without feeling threatened. Sometimes I walk out to get the mail and when I open the door to come back in, Cheryl has to hold his collar until he has verified my identity.
And dinner. Well, that’s just not the same anymore. Try enjoying a delicious well-prepared meal with a beagle standing on the end table in the den staring with the same expression Oliver Twist used to ask for more porridge. I cannot swear but I think he can produce the occasional tear to roll down his jowls.
I was desperate for help when I saw the ad for Dr. Greenleaf, Canine Psychic. I know it was legitimate because the ad was on the Facebook. This is what the ad said.
“Is your pet having difficulty adjusting to life with you? Does your puppy seem to have a sadness in his eyes? Contact the Canine Psychic Healing Line. We can truly help your precious furry pal have the carefree life all creatures deserve.” And in 6 point lettering at the bottom, “You will be billed at a rate of $10 for the first three minutes.” There was some lettering after that but it was too small to read.
Worth a try, I thought. I took Bailey into the used-to-be a nice sunroom which now does double duty as Bailey’s sleeping quarters and my doghouse. I wanted him to be relaxed for the consultation.
After a couple of rings, the call was answered by Dr. Heather Greenleaf, with a PhD in Canine Psychology from Writtendown University. (I asked because I didn’t want to be taken in by some quack.).
Dr. Greenleaf listened to my list of difficulties with less enthusiasm than I had hoped for. She interrupted my litany of grievances about halfway through and asked to listen to Bailey.
Bailey was snoozing in his plastic swimming pool sized deluxe bed so I poked him to wake him up and held the phone near him so the Doctor could hear any sounds. He was giving me the silent treatment and shuffled his way to the couch where he went right back to sleep.
I was embarrassed for him and I told the doctor so. She assured me that it happened to everyone occasionally and not to worry.
“Could you imitate some of the sounds he makes? For example,” she said, “What sounds does he make when he wants to go out?”
I tried to make the howl-bark-growl that he makes when neighbors are walking down the street and he wants to get out and harass them.
The Doctor told me to wait a second, that she would put me on speakerphone so that she could consult with some of the other Doctors. I repeated the sounds and could hear some muffled noises from the other doctors.
“What sounds does he make when he is hungry?” She asked. I tried to imitate the velociraptor snort he makes and the sound of the food dish scraping on the brick patio.
There was more muffled consulting. This time a little louder.
It cost $90 dollars plus tax, to find out that Bailey’s Chakras were misaligned badly. My failure to listen to his obvious cries for help had caused untold damage to his fragile canine ego. In short, I had screwed him up.
“It wasn’t all me,” I blurted, “Cheryl helped!”
All is not lost. By a fortunate coincidence, Dr. Greenleaf had produced a series of online training videos that Bailey and I could watch together in the privacy our own little refuge. The videos were available for download for $59.99. I know that sounds high, but there are three of them and I was lucky enough to call during a special offer. Usually the videos were $75.00.
I promised the Doctor that Bailey and I would watch them but Cheryl had to watch too because, like I said, she helped mess him up.
It was, like the cost for the trainer, money wasted. Bailey paid no attention whatsoever to the video and Cheryl was on-line shopping the whole time or least for the time I was able to stay awake.
There is no changing Beagle Bailey. I cannot allow him to charge out the door after every delivery person or chase down a strolling neighbor on Nauvassee Trail but I have given up on dinner. He is a particular fan of Captain Steve’s Seafood restaurant. Just point of fact here. Hush puppies don’t hush this puppy. They just whet his appetite for oysters or shrimp. If we have chicken, Bailey prefers extra crispy. He is also fond of tuna casserole with sour cream, mayonnaise, and parsley topping. Without the topping he is not interested.
We are trying. Honest we are. I believe his chakras might be lining up and he seems more self-actualized. He is also happy that spring weather is here and he can have more yard time. If you are a neighbor, you have my sincerest apology. Enjoy the warmer weather.
It is April 1st.
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