I don't want a beagle. I need a dog, but not a beagle. Beagles hunt. They howl. They chase and kill chickens. This might be the dog that killed my chickens last month (I didn't blog about it because I was too upset. We have more chickens now, but it's not the same as my own hand-raised babies). I don't need a hunting dog.
Last night we went to the shelter to see what their hours were so we could drop her off. We've called all the neighbors and no one claims her. I don't want a beagle (did I say that already?). We found a nice black lab puppy and I filled out adoption papers. We are to pick him up tomorrow evening, I think.
Haley named the beagle Sweetpea. I told Haley the dog is not staying here--she was far too interested in the chickens and turkeys. We found a collar and a chain.
Larry named her Roosevelt; I have no idea why. He calls her Rosie for short. When he comes home, he unties her and she follows him everywhere, even out to the beehive. I told him we don't want a beagle. He agrees as he scratched her ears.
She's hungry, always. She's curious, ever. She howls when we leave and when we return. She is always on the hunt for food. She can fit through the gate and onto the porch. We don't need a beagle.
But I wonder how long I can resist that face.