Take this morning, for example. Michael and I have been congratulating ourselves that the stupendous amount of money we'd spent on the electric fence and Ruby's electrifying collar was the answer to our prayers. Sure, we'd adjusted the collar's "correction" level from the first setting - mildly naughty - to the second setting - more zap for your buck.
For over a week now, the Beagle has shown no signs of escape artistry. In the meantime, her ears - a bit dodgy at the best of times - had deteriorated into inflamed, itchy and gross. Even regular cleaning and syringing wasn't doing the trick. It was time to book an appointment with the vet.
Taking Ruby to the vet - or anywhere in the car - is a major enterprise. Because she gets hideously carsick, she has to be medicated half an hour before we leave. I'd already decided to take Kermit, the four wheel drive, as she's higher, she can see more and there is better airflow. Even so, she turns green within the first ten minutes and drools copiously for the entire trip.
Just for fun, I thought I'd take Sascha and Pip along for the ride. Sascha, being elderly and lumpy, needs a general check of her bumps. Pip, our insane Jack Russell, has a bottom that "goes the wrong way". I kid you not, that's what a vet told me. So his anal glands are a constant problem. His other constant problem is that he bites the vet and needs to be muzzled.
I'd decided to try a new vet in Northam this morning. I made the appointment, spent twenty minutes on the phone describing their breeds, temperaments, various idiosyncrasies and found Ruby's medication. Last night I plonked the bottle on the bench, set the alarm and bid the dogs farewell before I retired to bed.
Up bright and early (ish), two out of the three dogs greeted me in the bedroom. This in itself was not unusual, as Ruby's collar warns her of an impending correction if she steps over the threshold. I assumed she was doing her rounds in the garden.
Pig's ear for Sascha and chicken tender for Pip. I was sure the Beagle would gallop into the house once she saw the others eating. I waited. No Beagle. Uh oh.
There was no sign of Ruby in the back yard. The little cow had done a runner. Broken through the electrical barricade. She'd lulled us into a false sense of security whilst she'd been planning her escape route.
At a quarter to nine, I had to ring the vet and cancel. Ruby had still not returned and it was too late to give her the medication before a car trip. I have re-scheduled for next Friday...
I heard Madam on the front porch a short time later. Her right ear is disgusting and she now is sporting an impressive limp as well. Once inside though, she still performed her little head dance which always precedes her getting her morning treat. I told her to get stuffed.
In disgust, she has retired to the top bunk in the laundry to dream happy Beagle dreams. Guilt? Not a skerrick. And we now have to raise the correction level on her collar from more zap for your buck to take that, you sneaky little bitch!
We have been taught a lesson. Again. Never underestimate the cunning and stealth of the Beagle.
Mind like a steel trap with the persistence of a battering ram!
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