Sniffergate

My humans celebrated my turning 10 with my annual birthday feast of noodles (for long life), fried calamari (in honour of my 1st favorite toy), fruit from the fridge (this year, it was blueberries), and a birthday cake. Every year, the script remains unchanged: "Happy Birthday" is sung as I bellow out "Aroooos" and run round-and-round the room. I cannot believe that after 10 years, they still remain blind to the fact that my energetic scurrying is borne out of the need to protest the injustice and scandal of having to "sniff" my own feast year in and year out!

Sniffergate shenanigans aside, turning reflective is also another birthday tradition. As I turn 10, I look back and marvel at how I've moved up in this world. This was me when I was 13 weeks old. Back then, my only worldly possession was this plastic laundry crate, converted into my sleeping basket.

This is me today. I share a bed with my humans, have 6 pillows, am the proud owner of a tennis ball and bone collection, possess 3 outfits (Winter, Spring/Summer and Fall) and snow boots! I don't travel without my harness, backpack and water bowl. I have mastered the fine art of lounging, with a petbed in every room at my disposal.

Last but not least, I am also highly educated, having graduated from the The School of Sit, No and Bedstep Training!

At 10, I'm old enough to know that not all beagles are as lucky as me. Not all of my kind  have toys and forever homes, or humans who move halfway around the world and resolutely refuse to leave them behind. Sure, they have their momentary lapses of  "bad parenting", resulting in Sniffergate-type injustices. But at the end of the day, getting to eat the cupcake is just the frosting to an already wonderful life. Now, who would ever have thought a food-deprived beagle like me would ever admit that? Arooooooo!

Insanity or Eternal Optimism?

As I read this quote from Albert Einstein, one of the world's greatest minds, my humans come to mind:

"Insanity is doing the same things over and over again, yet expecting different results each time."

They certainly do some things over and over again, and yes, expect me and my nose to react differently each time.

For example. Bathroom doors are perennially left open in the mornings. Yet again and again, they expect me to turn up my nose and not succumb to the temptation of such enticing smells, expressing shocked surprise at the shredded pile of cotton and tissue that never fails to greet them once they return from work. 

Or. The unrealistic expectation of carpets left pristine when brightly coloured, strong-scented neon magic markers and lipsticks are continually left within reach of my nose and paw!    Oh, the memory of my humans moaning as I greeted them at the door with my face stained a bright electric blue on one side and red on the other; then shrieking as they saw the fate of their once pristine carpet. Really... what did they expect? If anything, I certainly got the raw end of the deal. My face (and the carpet) was vigorously Mr.Clean Magic-Erasered until all telltale stains disappeared. Yet, the only valuable life lesson they seem to have learned? That Mr. Clean Magic Eraser works not only on walls and counter tops, but on carpets AND dogs too. Sigh.

On paper, insanity might be the most logical diagnosis. However, as I am almost sure both of them are of sound mind, there's only one other alternative explanation. That when it comes to their 4-legged hounds, humans are eternally optimistic. Believing that it simply takes time and repetition until, just like little children, we have that eureka moment and "learn our lesson". After all, haven't our working dog cousins, the Shepherds, Border Collies and Retrievers, proven this to be true?

So, are they guilty by reason of insanity or eternal optimism? You be the judge. In the mean-time, excuse me as my hound nose is detecting an open bathroom door that needs my immediate attention.