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Beagle Blog – Dog as Therapist

Beags on table in garden

There are no two ways about it:  my new parent is definitely a little barking (barking mad?  See, I’m cracking jokes now… Am I losing it too?!).  For a start, she thinks that if she hides the lead behind her back when she walks towards me that I won’t see it!  What?!  Any half-smart puppy knows that old trick!  She also has a habit of smiling and laughing.  A lot.  It’s not normal.  Who is that smiley?!

Ahhhhh….it’s just occurred to me:  I’m her therapy!  She is mad and needs a normal creature around her to bring her back to reality!  Crikey…I have my work cut out!!!  I think this could be my life’s work…

Right, so desperate times call for desperate measures.  I try to shake her back into the here and now.  I start with removing the curtains from the curtain pole.  Then the curtain pole from the wall.  Twice.  The second time, I even added to the trashing by consuming the lamp-shade.  Both times, I greet her amidst the carnage of the sitting room with my tail waving like a metronome.  “Look!”  I’m trying to shout, “Life is horrendous!  Miserable.  Awful.  Get back to reality!”

Well, I could see that I had her slightly ruffled as she stopped just inside the room with her mouth open.  Especially the second time.  But all she did was to ignore my attempts to capture her attention and she just quietly cleared everything up.  She totally ignored me whilst this was going on which was puzzling, but when she had finished, she turned to me with a big smile on her face and said, “I do love you, Beagle! Even if you don’t approve of my interior design efforts and wish to make your own!”

What could I say?!  She had finally lost it!

I didn’t want to entirely give up my role as chief therapist, so over the course of the next few weeks, I endeavoured to consume a bag of candles, the television remote control, a yoga mat, a couple of books and a box of matches.  When I pointed out the box of matches had been eaten to her, all she did was to laugh, look to the ceiling and say, “Just make sure that you don’t rub up against anything rough!”

The woman is clearly in la la land.

Finally, I gave up on that course of action.  I just couldn’t seem to make her realise that life was mean.  Hurtful.  She just kept forgiving me and trying to give me cuddles.  And boy, did she try.  For weeks, I gave her the runaround.  First, she had to leave a lead on me just to catch me to take me for walks.  On a walk, though, I didn’t need that lead.  I had it all worked out.  I may have landed the loony lady, but she was a darn sight better than that cage, so I figured that I might as well stick around.

She was persistent in trying to give me hugs, though.  She may have thought that I didn’t realise what she was doing when we were sitting quietly together and her hand would slowly reach out to touch me.  I would start by leaping out of the way, certain that she would hit me.  After all, that’s what hands do, right?  However, she was so persistent in doing so that, after a couple of weeks of feigning resistance, I gave up leaping away altogether.  So, she would sit there stroking my back and rubbing my shoulders.  I could cope.  Actually, ooh…just move a little more to the right…now scratch…ahhhhhhhh!

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 27th, 2015 at 2:58 pm and is filed under Beagle Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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