6) Cow pies

[MontyBeagle]

I’ve always thought the Pavlovian experiment was really interesting. But no matter what man can come up with, bells or not, I’m convinced there’s no better way to encourage specific behaviour than to get another dog to do it first. Monty is a copycat. He’ll hate the word cat being mentioned in relation to him but there’s no other term for it. As I’ve mentioned before, Monty has a spaniel friend that goes by the name of Bella. Bella is mad. There’s no other way of describing her. She will happily watch a fly on the ceiling for hours, taking occasional breaks for a few seconds to see what’s happening in the room before turning her attention back to the progression of the fascinating insect. She will also jump to get it despite in being ten feet above her. Despite her slightly obsessive personality, she is the light of Monty’s life. He adores her. She is very much the dominant of the two and Monty walks that important half a step behind her and he watches her. He watches her every move. And then he has a go at whatever she is doing.


There’s a field near where we live that is open and wide enough to give the beagle a good run around without worrying about him getting near any traffic. It’s known locally as Cow Common; a name I hadn’t really understood or questioned during the winter months. It was only during a walk with both of the dogs recently that I realised why the name was apt. Across the other end of the field were a placid herd of grazing cows; contently going about filling their four stomachs. As a result of this constant munching, the field had transformed from a delightful, muck-free field to a minefield of cow pies (a new American term I’ve learnt!).

However, this had never been a problem before. A sniff here and there and no drama. But Bella had other ideas. According to the sprightly spaniel, there’s nothing more divine than to roll around over a fresh dollop, coating yourself in the scent of cow waste. Given her longer hair (and worrying about the interior of my car which is already pretty covered in Monty hair. If anyone wants a lift, they pretty much have to shave a seat first) I hurried over and put her on lead. She wasn’t too badly covered and I thought I’d just about saved the day.

Then in my peripheral vision, I detected the thrashing upturned limbs of a twitching beagle who looked to be fitting on the grass. Turning my full attention to him, I realised that he had seen Bella and decided to try it out for himself. Unlike Bella, who had opted for a modest pile, Monty had managed to find the bull’s share and he was having a hoot of a time. When he finally righted himself, he wasn’t so much a tri-coloured beagle anymore. Any white sections had disappeared and he was practically glossy with a coat of faecal fur. He was slick with it. And the look of absolute glee on his face? I’ve never seen a more euphoric looking beagle. He was DElighted with his new look.


I however, was a little less pleased. Luckily I had a bag of clothes that were going to a charity shop in the back of the car so I did have a jumper to sponge off the excess and after that Monty had a date with the garden hose. He’d managed to get it under his collar and in his ears!


What was funniest, was the look of desolation as I washed him. It was like he couldn’t understand why anyone would undo all that effort.

Beagles!

[deardaisy]

When I was a kid, my friend and I brought her dog for a walk down by the river near her house. A fisherman left his dead catch in the grass instead of throwing it back into the river to his cannibalistic friends, and Tiny, short for Tiwanda (from Fried Green Tomatoes) as she was not a small dog, promptly found said fish, and rolled. All over it.
Yum.

However, I think I would prefer dead fish over fresh cow poo. You must have lined your car with little tree air fresheners.

"If anyone wants a lift, they pretty much have to shave a seat first"
Love it!!
'Cow patties' are also another affectionate name for cow poo

[ljas]

Our shepherd, Zoey, took off one day. As we frantically searched for her, I got a call from our town supervisor, letting me know that a neighboring farmer had found Zoey, and that we needed to go get her. My husband jumped into the old truck (fortunately) and went. Apparently, the farmer was geared up in coveralls, gloves, and a bandana covering his nose and mouth, holding gingerly to the end of the rope attached to Zoey's collar. Zoey was caked with what had to be most of the manure pile. I scraped her off, but it still took 5 shampoos and rinses before she was tolerable.

[Popeye_x27]

LMAO- hilarious story!