She spent her life on a ten foot lead, and loved it. Go figure!
She arrived to us with the name Daisy but as her solid canine understanding of North American dining terms grew (treat, lunch, toast) so did her girth. Quite quickly her stature became more rotund, and she endearingly became known to those closest to her as “Chubbs”. “Chubbs McGubb” to be exact.
Chubbs was the perfect pet. I did a lot of reading once she arrived home. The most important thing I discovered was that beagles are extremely sensitive. If you never strike your beagle, they in turn become fiercely loyal. Never once did I raise a hand to her and our bond with each other was indescribable.
I am the first one to put up my hand and admit that this last year for me has been difficult to say the least. When the snow left, I knew that I had found my way and I would A-OK, now this. As silly as it sounds, I feel like I am mourning the loss of a child.
Last night, in an effort to contain this “hell on wheels” infant, I dug out Daisy’s baby gate from the garage. Gate in hand, I exited the garage just in time to find her tugging on my golf towel, and knocking over my brand new golf clubs.
It appears I have another baby on my hands. Wish me luck… I’m gonna need it!