Day Three - in which I discover that these beagle puppies are part MOUNTAIN GOAT. I was awakened by a loud crash at O'dark thirty - bleary eyed and sleep deprived from Day Two, I sat bolt upright in bed, disturbing Buster, who barked his complaints. I heard puppies and jumped out of bed, landing right on Potsy - big mistake - but I still have all my toes intact - I ran down the hallway, tripped over the area rug, and lurched around the corner to the kitchen to discover not one, not two, but THREE of the puppies ON TOP of their crate, happily chewing on a roll of paper towels that they had managed to knock over from the counter, which is only inches away from their position on the crate. Dumbfounded and not quite comprehending what I'm seeing I was snapped out of "pause" when one of the puppies (Sullivan) jumped onto the counter. I grabbed him, put him on the floor and grabbed his cohorts (Warren and Garrison) and then stepped gingerly over the gate, being careful where I step in the minefield created by many piles of goo and puddles of pee - my boom box is laying face down on the floor behind the smaller crate - the source of the crash - meanwhile I'm making a mental note to remove the crate doors as I see that's what the puppies used as a ladder. With puppies chewing on my toes, I look inside the crate to find Lori just sitting, looking as innocent as possible, while Heathbar is feigning sleep. I herd them all into the crate and pick up my boom box, which mercifully did NOT land in any goo, and the pieces of mail that came down off the counter with the boom box. I then begin the monumental task of cleaning up the piles of goo, pieces of newspaper, and shredded paper towels. I wash the floor. I put clean newspaper down, covering the floor. Realizing I should have thought of this sooner, I make a mental note to get drop cloths from Walmart and tape one to the floor before I put newspaper down again. I release the hounds from their crate prison. They IMMEDIATELY set to the task of shredding the newspaper.

I can only imagine the mess I will have to clean up when I get home tonight. I get their food ready, and set it down, and the locusts descend once again. Same with the water. I remember that I have other dogs to feed, so I get their food ready, and then start to get ready for work. I get in the shower, which for some unknown reason, will not turn off completely when I'm done. Five beagle puppies, four adult beagles, bad plumbing, and it's a Monday morning. I don't DARE ask what else could possibly go wrong. I'll find out.

Day Three, Evening - In which I come home to a broken shower, many piles of goo, shredded newspaper, and I learn that Lori can climb. This comes at a most inopportune moment, as I was in the middle of rushing outside to turn off the whole house water supply - mental note to plumber, please put a shutoff valve on the master bathroom shower! As I squished past the gate keeping the puppies confined, Lori suddenly appeared under the dining room table. I start to chase her, she thinks it's a game. Pam is home now, and states matter of factly that Lori has been doing this all day. So much for that innnocent look from this morning! I find a clear spot on the floor, and I put down some food and water - not an easy task with five little bodies hurling themselves upward, bent on attacking the object coming toward them - the food spills, and five little Hoovers spring into high gear. Thirty seconds later, I'm herding the puppies into their crates, so I clean up the newspaper remnants, along with the goo, (that $2 box of disposable gloves is looking like the buy of the year for me) and I turn the water back on long enough to scrub the kitchen floor, again. I dry it off, and start to put down one of the drop cloths I remembered to pick up. Without thinking, I cover the drop cloths with newspaper. I let the pups out of 'jail' and sit down on the floor to play with them. I learn that Sullivan thinks the oven is a gigantic chew toy, and HeathBar and Garrison think of Lori that way. She, of course, objects -she's a stealth biter - she sneaks up on one of her unsuspecting brothers and gets him on the ankle, or by the tail, and then when he turns around, she sits down and looks away. Garrison and Warren use me as their springboard to the top of the crate - (Rita, thank you for the camera! I am trying to catch as much of this in pictures as I can!) It's pretty clear by this time that I am the biggest chew toy of all, as the puppies nibble on my hands, chew on my arms, my toes, and pull and chew on my jeans. And then it begins - the land mines and puddles - at least I can roll the whole mess up at the end of the day. That's the theory, anyway. So, out I climb. And now I have to find a suitable barricade to prevent any nighttime escaping. I settle on a sideways baby gate, reinforced with a chair. Hopefully, this barricade will not be breached.

The plumber is coming tomorrow. Under normal circumstances (say, like when I only have FIVE dogs in the house) I would try to tackle a problem like this myself. I wonder what he will think when he sees five puppies camped out in the kitchen. This time, Pam gets to stay home and wait.

Right now, it's quiet here at Camp Beagle. The pups are all piled together in one of the crates, and Pam and the resident beagles have gone to bed, too. I am rather enjoying the silence. I realize (too late) that I am the last one to get to bed, which means that I will have no covers again tonight.....