Heavenly Beverley : Go To Jail. Go Directly To Jail...

There is an absolutely hysterical clip floating around cyberspace featuring English comedian Michael McIntyre describing the lot of those with children and those without children. This expose, without doubt, should be required viewing by anyone considering parenthood. What just appears to be a lovely idea in one's mind to bring a baby into the world is tempered by the realities of living with children - car travel, bedtime, leaving the house. If you have had a romanticised image of happy families, you will have your rose-coloured glasses run over - forwards and backwards repeatedly.

The same principle applies for Beagle owners. How could anybody not fall instantly in love with a Beagle? When introduced to a young Ruby, with her beautiful kohl-rimmed eyes and sweet expression, I was smitten. For about five minutes.

Michael had been left to care for Ruby after his previous wife, Joan, had died. Ruby had been chosen by Joan and their daughter Holly whilst Michael was away. Even as a puppy, she quickly wrote her own agenda of anarchy. Her antics became legendary, as Michael struggled to comprehend her next mischievous move. Stealing food off the dining table, rifling through handbags, chewing the electric cord to the fish tank, eating Panadol and the Pill, demolishing any wooden or hard plastic items, including wall plugs, wooden drawer knobs and door wedges. She attempted climbing into a cubby house and nearly mastered the steps. Michael began referring to the growing carnage as being "Beaglely altered".

The good news was that Ruby's very presence ensured Michael's emotional survival through a very difficult time. Mourning Joan and being left to care for Ruby single-handedly, he needed the routine of feeding her and walking her. Completely blind to her own shortcomings, Ruby also gave Michael unconditional love.

Since Ruby catapulted into my life as well, we have spent many moments shaking our heads in disbelief. Despite appearing to be as thick as two short planks, her cunning and perseverance have served her well, often leaving us dumbfounded.

How did she work out that if she sat just close enough to the electric dog fence, the battery in the associated collar would be flattened? How did she master undoing zips with her nose and teeth? How did she learn to move stacked plates with just her nose without breaking them? And how did a somewhat rotund little dog, who has all the aerodynamics of a short-legged brick, manage to spring athletically onto a chair as a shortcut to any delectable delights left out? And how did she manouvre herself across the top of a lounge onto the kitchen bench, in stealth mode and remove a leftover roast? We knew immediately that she was the culprit on inspecting the gravy trail down the kitchen drawers and paw prints in the lemon tart.

Later achievements include devouring her own pooh with gusto (and any other dog's or cat's for that matter), getting sunstroke from lying out in the yard for too long, being poisoned by overripe Cocos Palm nuts and disappearing at the drop of a hat for a Bin Crawl if we were silly enough to let her out the door without watching her every move.

In spite of her ongoing exploits, Ruby is loved by all of us. She continues to look confused when we bellow at her regarding the latest misdemeanour. Her love affair with all that she views as edible will grow. Yet she is also docile and agreeable most of the time, which makes sustained despair or anger very problematic.

And her behaviour as a guard dog is just a marvellous comedy routine. Irate at the possibility of an intruder, she will headbutt the dog door in her haste to charge into the courtyard to express her displeasure. A rolling growl, a furious stance and an erect tail complete her indignation.

Personally, I'd be more worried about Pip. Jack Russells are notoriously shirty and I suspect he would have an unwanted guest's jugular vein out via the ankle whilst Ruby was checking the body for food.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, describes Ruby to a tee.

This post was generated due to her latest adventures. I rose the other morning to discover a sea of soft plastics scattered all over the floor and the paper bag holding them had been shredded. An early morning snack had consisted of rolled oat crumbs from the pantry floor with a chaser of potting mix that she had dug up from an outside potplant.

We were led to discuss the possible existence of Reform Schools for Beagles. We quickly realised that Reform Schools would never work for Ruby. She has no desire at being reformed...and would refuse any attempts at rehabilitation. There may only be one further course of action to explore - a Secure Facility for Naughty Beagles.

Comments and helpful suggestions from fellow Beagle owners would be welcomed!