Harley’s Beagle Blog March 2017
Hello fans and apologies for the long wait in receiving this latest instalment of my life in the ‘fast lane’. The last four months have been difficult for me as my usual long country walks have been curtailed somewhat, to a quick saunter down a public road.
I, of course, have been getting the blame for this change in walking policy but I regard this as totally unfair and a breach of my own conditions of use.
The facts are that the guy I own has bad knees and arthritis and has without fail walked me for five years three miles a day over some pretty rough ground and I have been blamed for wearing down the cartilage on his knees. Now I have to admit that I am no doctor and my medical expertise only comes from a quick visit to the Vet’s but I always thought exercise would be good for his knees.
Anyway, in November 2016 the female of the house decided to travel 300 miles and go shopping with a crowd of her golfing friends… a big mistake. I was left to take the ‘guy I own’ out for a walk leaving poor Dusty behind as she had only had sixteen hours sleep and was not really up for the challenge.
So off we set in the car to visit my favourite mountain retreat in the Glens and all went well for the first 200 yards. I then decided, as usual to take my morning dump and quietly stopped and produced a half kilo of prime steaming and good quality poo.
My jailer, being a very conscientious individual stopped to fill up a poo bag and I wandered on tied to five metres of lead. As he bent down to pick up the steaming pile my attention was drawn to a small rodent passing in front of me, so as any good hound would do I bounded forward at full pelt to check out this new found furry friend.
As I bolted forward my companion was squatting down and had just picked up a steaming handful of good quality manure which had only recently been resting in my rectum. It was like a ski jumper going off the end of the jump. I raced forward, the lead tighten with a twang and 100 kilos of human being and a full bag of poo were projected forward by 48 kilos of Harley Beagle in full flight.
He did try to stop but at that point his Achilles tendons decided to pop and he gave out an almighty howl and shouted a load of expletives. So picture the scene, one large hound bounding forward and one weakened human with burning legs, tears running down his cheeks and still attached to yours truly. ‘STOP, STOP, FOR GOD’S SAKE STOP’ echoed around the forest but fell on deaf ears..
I had only walked 200 metres and we still had four miles to walk and this was my traditional route and nothing was going to stop me going in only one direction…. Forward and upwards. Well we spent the next two hours with the wind blowing in my fur and the odd words like ‘BAST…’ and ‘BUGG…’ getting lost in the swirling air.
It was a bit like the film ‘The Revenant’ except he did not have a big bear skin coat on and no stick. only me to help up the mountain and down again. I guess that makes me some kind of rescue dog and hero but I don’t like any public out pouring of appreciation.
So two hours later and after a very slow walk, I managed to pull him to safety and get back to the car… did I hear any thanks from him… No. He cursed me, he cursed his wife and then he cursed me again… Some appreciation, Ehh?
Anyway, after four months of short walks I now have a very nice dog walker called Mitch from Tyrone Pet Services who takes me out on long walks twice a week and is a lot better looking than the guy I own. He is getting out of shape and I am still the boss.
I have lulled Mitch into a sense of security and she now thinks that I am putty in her hands… Just wait, I am biding my time for the revolution when Dusty and I will strike back and make the big bolt for freedom.
Signing off now as Dusty has to turn over and I am thinking of raiding the cat’s food again.