Over Bones

I have two beagles. Both are vocal with obnoxiousness and loving with obsessive kisses.  One of them is a rescue. The other we bought from a farmer. They’re my children (for the time being until my husband and I actually decide to have some “real” ones).

After watching 3:10 to Yuma with my husband and both dogs snuggled with us on the couch, I thought it suiting for some special attention on part of our pooches. What did I do for them at 10:00 in the evening? Well, I decided it was time for their favorite rawhide treat, a small little knotted bone that fits perfectly in their mouths.

I repeated the word “treat” several times as I walked in the kitchen.  With their ears perked, they gladly followed curious to what I was going to give them this time. They already received hunks of my left over baked chicken thigh. What more could I possibly give my adorable daughters? More treats of course! They know where I keep their yummies. With eyes wide and posture ready for action, they waited the few seconds it took for me to grab two little bones. To them it seemed like forever, I’m sure.

One of my girls is very picky and suspicious. And believe or don’t, it’s not the rescue. With a bone in one hand, and the other in the other, I handed both girls their bones.  The farm beagle slowly took it not really sure what to make of it. The rescue gladly took it and scampered off to sit on her daddy’s lap.

But when I walked in the living room only moments later, the farm beagle had both bones.  She’s the older of the two. I’m not quite sure how she got both of them. Normally the rescue will fight for her treats or toys. But I didn’t hear a sound in the few little moments I was in the kitchen. My husband engrossed in Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield didn’t notice a thing.

 I, of course, couldn’t help myself but to take pictures of the farm beagle with both bones. She was lying down next to the right side arm of the couch with the bones in X. It was odd seeing her with both of them.  Much less in the shape of X marks the spot (which one could say that is ironic, but knowing my beagle the way I do, she’s smarter than most humans would like to think). 

So after taking pictures of her and the bones, I grabbed one bone and gave it back to the rescue who was still sitting on my husband’s lap. I sat down next to him to read Time. The farm beagle, who is now a little annoyed, comes to the front of the couch.

And thus begins the conversation over bones.  The farm beagle is more vocal than the rescue. Her grunts are her words. And her body language is far superior to my husband’s.  The rescue, still on my husband’s lap, responds back to her older sister with barely audible low grunts in return with her ears back and sad eyes eyeing me and her older sister. This continues for a while. They stare and grunt, stare and grunt. It was really quite interesting seeing these two communicate in such a fashion.

Dogs are smart creatures, this I know. I just need God to remind me of how smart sometimes. They understand volumes. They understand us when we speak to them; they know right from wrong, good from bad. Science is still discovering how complex these seemingly simple creatures really are.  They understand more than some closed minded humans care to acknowledge.  After all, they’re only animals right?

As this seemingly normal conversation takes place, my husband got hot from having the rescue on his lap. He dumped her off and the bone fell somewhere unknown. We looked for it for a few seconds trying to find it to prevent a doggy scuffle. The rescue has placed her self by my husbands left leg with, yes, her bone to the side. The farm beagle to front right of my husbands leg and in front of my line of vision if it wasn’t for the laptop I’m typing on at the current moment. The farm beagle is still grunting and sighing, begging her little sister to give up the bone.

She’s a bully, the farm one is. She won’t quit till she has it. As for the rescue, she’s  a tough little pooch. She’ll take on the Doberman that visits, or even the pit-bull and Rottweiler next door if they bug her. She’s not afraid. When we first got her, she appeared to be the dominant one. Now, it’s too difficult to tell. Could it be that these two are on equal footing?

I don’t know. We’ll have to discuss it over finished bones.