With the help of two of the kennel staff, I got the girls settled into their crates - Dixie and Tara in one, Julep and Georgia in the other ( I think). They apparently chewed their identification off one another. I really wasn't sure at that point which puppy was which. That could be sorted out at home. We were barely underway when one or more of the girls promptly puked and pooped. This did NOT make Pam happy. I fixed what I could, and we rode with the windows down - the girls finally settled down nicely for the ride, without any further incidents.

We arrive at the house, and I bring the crates inside. I frantically try to figure out where I will keep the pups while I get their quarters ready. I settle on the master bathroom, because it already has newspaper down on the floor for Daisy. (My beagles don't run my life, DO they?) The resident four sniff the crates, looking long and hard at the puppies, then turn to look at me with expressions that tell me they think I've lost what few marbles they gave me credit for having.

I block off part of the bathroom and put the puppies in there. The resident four are intrigued. They stand at the baby gate, looking intently at these creatures, who bark and roll and play and snarl and swat with reckless abandon. Buster gets too close to the baby gate, and pays the price with the swipe of a puppy paw. Buster, who learned why some turtles are called snapping turtles the hard way, now has learned a similar lesson about puppies and their toenails. Daisy stands and looks at them, and then turns to look at me. She sighs heavily, and I try to reassure her that they are only here for a little bit. They begin to fight. Daisy begins to bark. Buster, Buddy and Potsy join in for good measure. In the midst of the din, I'm wondering what in the world I was thinking when I said I'd do this again! But there's something about a baby beagle howl that is just too cute for words.

Quickly, I bend over the baby gate and grab the two fighting puppies, catching them off guard - so much so that they attack my hands. I stand up, a puppy under each arm, and head for the back door. Outside! Go Outside! I go back and get the other two, and out they go as well. The resident four follow close behind. So, with all the dogs outside, I turn my attention to getting the puppies quarters ready. I spread out the plastic drop cloth. I tape it in place. This took about 15 minutes. Then, it took another 10 minutes to spread the newspaper over the floor. Another 10 minutes to clean the crates - meanwhile, from outside, I hear the occasional growl and a sharp bark or two, but nothing life threatening or earth shattering. The floor is covered, and I put down a water dish, I put down several food bowls, and now I'm ready for the pups to come back inside. So, I open the door, and promptly get knocked on my backside by the pack. I round up the puppies from various corners of the dining room and put them in the kitchen.

Immediately, they go for the food and water. Seconds, and many growls later, all the bowls are empty. Now, I expected that the girls would use both crates to sleep in. But no, they all pile in the big crate together - tails, legs, noses and ears off in all directions. They settle down to sleep. Some half-hearted yapping, a few snarls, and then contented sighs, and sleep. Finally, silence. And I was a fool to think it would last. Buddy is standing guard at the front window, from his perch on the back of the couch. He starts barking at nothing, which wakes the puppies up, and probably the dead as well, so, I get the resident four outside, and the puppies settle back down to sleep.