Day Twelve Friday, AM

The alarm goes off, and I am instantly awake. It's pitch black outside, the Belles are in the kitchen, sound asleep and snoring. I tiptoed down the hall to check on them. I come back and tell Pam that if we sneak out, we won't wake anybody up. We leave the resident four sleeping where they are. I turn on the TV and close the door. We're out of the house without any major barking. So far, so good. The traffic is amazing at this early hour, but I get Pam to the airport by 4AM - the lines are incredible at that hour. I drop Pam off and head for home. I walk in the house, and I see that the Belles have been busy. The newspaper is shredded, the water dishes are overturned - for the next Beagle Camp (oh, but of COURSE there will be a next one!) I must remember to get heavier water dishes. One is in the crate being gnawed on, and the other is Dixie's wading pool. She walks through it, oblivious to the fact that it's full of water. Now, the resident four are barking - I let them out of the room, and they go flying down the hall to the back door. Even Daisy moved quickly. So, I let them outside, I scoop up the puppies - who fit nicely into my puppy containment system, and wheel them to the back door - now everybody is outside, and I can clean up the mess. New dropcloth, new newspaper, more masking tape. I should have invested in 3M, with all their products I buy for Beagle Camp! I look outside - the dogs are chasing each other around the yard, rather quietly. Either that or I've gone completely deaf.

Anyway. The mess is cleaned up, and it's time for ME to get cleaned up. It goes a lot quicker when there are no dogs in the house! I go to the back door to let everyone in, and they come running. And then I look down at the futon mattress, and I see the most interesting collection of things the Belles have found to chew on: the aluminum piece that gets nailed to the house and holds the downspouts in place, a clump of petrified something, I don't care to know what, that I put a glove on and dispose of quickly, a piece of metal that looks like it was once part of a machine, and part of a rotted tree stump - which had to come from the hole the Belles and their Uncle Potsy dug earlier - [I know he's their foster brother, but somehow, Uncle just fits better!] I turn my attention to gathering the girls up so I can feed them and the resident four before I leave for work. I put them in the kitchen, and get their food ready. I have to referee, because Tara really wants everyone else's food. It's over in seconds, and they're ready to go back outside. So, I take them back out, and then get breakfast for the resident four. No pumpkin this morning. I put their bowls down, and they don't eat. They look at me with wounded expressions, as though I am deliberately mistreating them. I have to fish Daisy's medicine out of her bowl and make sure she takes it. I am in no mood for any kind of antics this morning. Daisy doesn't mess around. She swallows, and then she goes to a bowl and starts eating. The others follow suit, and soon everyone is done. So, out they go, barking all the way. And I'm off to work.

Day Twelve, Friday PM

Hunter, my former foster dog, has come to stay with me for two weeks or so, while his mom & dad are out of town. I now have the resident four, three puppies and a former foster dog. I really MUST be crazy. Hunter is a dream beagle, though. He knows basic commands, he doesn't mess in the house, and he loves to run and bark in the back yard. When I let him inside, the barking stops, as if he knows he's not supposed to bark inside. If only Buster could learn that lesson! We go through the ritual of feeding everybody and settling in - the Belles have a big day tomorrow. Tara and Georgia are going to meet Jan, and she will adopt one of the girls. Dixie is coming along for the ride, because I don't want one puppy to travel alone.

It's a relatively quiet night until Dixie decides that she HAS to get out of the kitchen, and climbs up the barricade - she somehow balances across it (Could she be related to Sherman, the Circus Beagle?), takes a few steps, and jumps down to the floor. She walks over to me, sits down and looks up, with a smile on her face. She's pretty pleased with herself. I pick her up, and put her back in the kitchen. Then the howling begins. If she could talk, she'd be telling me that I have NO appreciation for how hard she's just worked, and that I have no sense of adventure, and that I'm just plain mean! I put the top half of the barricade in place, and the Belles complain, but not too much. They're soon settled down to sleep.

After an hour or so of being outside with the puppies, Hunter is not sure he likes them. He tiptoes up to the barricade (a beagle that can tiptoe - what a sight!) and sniffs along it - which generates a sharp bark from inside the kitchen, and causes Hunter to jump upwards and backward about a foot, and then turn to me as if to say "WHAT are THOSE?" Daisy, on the other hand, has made up her mind. If looks could kill, I'm not sure I'd be writing this right now. Buster tolerates them, and that's about it. Buddy, and especially Potsy, seem not to mind having the puppies here - for Buddy, it means he's not the smallest one any more, and Potsy gets to teach bad habits to baby beagles.

I read something somewhere about the fact that beagles play very rambunctiously and can accidentally inflict injury by becoming overly excited and mistake a hand (or other appendage) for a chew toy. I'd say after what I've seen that this is a bit of an understatement!!