MY FAVOURITE FOOD

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When I was a puppy I had a soft spot for mustard and bear. To real food I felt more reluctant. Sometimes I was eating my portion with good appetite and sometimes I pushed my mistress almost to the edge of insanity by looking into my bowl with disgust, telling her "Eat it yourself, if you must!"
Löken was fond of tuna-fish. When we where on holiday, living together in the summer house, she was always buying tins with various fishy contents. However the tin-opener didn´t work very well, so when she was trying to open them she was usually spilling some tuna oil on the floor below...and there were Sniff and I standing, just waiting to lick it up. It was nice! That was how I learned to love mackerel in tomato sauce, but I also like sardines (even without tomato sauce) because the important thing is the FISH. It puts its delicate taste to the rest.
The worst thing about mackerel is that Löken herself is so fond of it, she can´t keep her hands from it. That´s the reason why she is often buying sardines for us. Then she is tasting ONE piece, not the whole tin, as with mackerel.
The older and smarter(?) I´m growing, the more tolerant is my taste for food. In my youth I just sniffed at cucumber - that lovely crunch between my teeth! - and orange is healthy for people, so why shouldn´t it be for beagles? But Löken has got to peel it first, the sharp oil from the shell doesn´t feel nice on my sensitive muzzle.
When I was telling granny I was planning to write about my favourite food, she sighed a bit ostentatious: "And what is NOT your favourite food?"
Yes, I suppose she´s got a point there. Generally speaking I like whatever I eat.
I have become a coffee addict - but there has to be cream in it!
Mashed potatoes are also tasty. Sometimes there are leftovers from the dinner which we are fed, in little lumps directly out of the dish.
When granny is cutting sausage we beagles are used to share the ends. Which is reminding me once again of my youth, when my mistress and I were going away to obedience trials, acquiring a habit of celebrating by buying a hot dog...or two.
Löken and I were doing exactly the same, on our way home from work last summer, when we were feeling a bit hungry and in the mood for something extra good. If the weather was hot we were buying ice-cream instead. I used to have my own, which I was wolfing down in two ticks - then I continued begging for more. She didn´t think this was very nice of me, but who has told her a beagle is nice?

MY JOB AS AN ENVIRONMENTAL HOUND

When Löken had been unemployed for about six months she got involved in a so-called project. She became one of the members in an environmental working team, which was going to build up a system for recycling various types of packages.
(I know a brilliant way to do it. Just chewing them into pieces and spreading them all over the house. The mistresses will get good exercise by picking them up again and the dogs will get activated and feel fine for the rest of the day.)
The first month or so the team had nowhere to hang out, so they had to meet in the library - and there are no dogs allowed, so I had to stay home with granny. Ooh, how sad I felt when Löken left me in the morning! I had grown kind of used to us being together all the time.
Later they got an office of their own and then I became an "EH" (as in Environmental Hound), going to "work" with Löken each day for the whole spring and summer. The old dairy, where they were staying, was on the opposite side of Katrineholm, so we had closer to 10kms to walk - 5 of them in the morning and the rest of them back after lunch. It was then we sometimes were making a detour by that hot-dog stand called Rondellen.
But this was not the only advantage from being at work with her. There were many nice humans in the team, especially Kari and Pia, who turned out to be my favourites. Kari was (almost every day) bringing sandwiches in his brief-case...and he was generous with them, too. Lots of times it happened he was bringing an extra one with meat, which was reserved for me. Maybe he didn´t believe they were giving me any food at home, but I didn´t make objections. At last a human being who understood the needs of a beagle!
Pia was also a open-handed person. She used to bring sweets in her pockets - and once half a packet of bisquits, which my susceptible nose soon discovered. Besides she was scratching my back in the most irresistible way.
She was pregnant and rather clumsy, so most of the day she was sitting on her chair - and as I am a clever dog, I was sitting beside her, putting on all my puppy-like charm. A little fawning never hurts you. I am (if allowed to say so myself) a specialist in the art of sucking up.
Löken would have been leaving her job in the beginning of June, but the time for the project was prolonged until the 6th of September. During that summer she was working as an environmental informant at the camping ground outside Katrineholm, so we were alternately going there and to the office in the old dairy, where she could use the computer. The walks were long, but I did not mind it at all - except for when the weather was TOO sunny and warm, so I became like a boiled egg inside my coat.
I liked the dairy pretty well. There I was offered fresh water to drink, a ragged pink ball to play with and my very own chair to rest on. But I never felt comfortable in the shed at the camping ground. The men with whom we were sharing it were actually not too bad, but most of the time they were out working and then there was dirty, dark and spooky and full of strange, frightening sounds.
When Löken was trying to leave me I was feeling insecure, barking hysterically. Maybe I would have been better in my crate, but it was occupied. My former mistress had borrowed it, because she had just been to Norway to fetch Hella, her third weimaraner pup.
Some people don´t know how to control themselves. She hadn´t got time enough for US, so HOW on earth will she be able to bring up another pup? I think I´ve got to quote Rama: "Oh, oh, this will never end well!"
However I was discontent and kept nagging at Löken about going home to granny. The result was that she left me again. She could not get any work done with my voice in her ears all day, she said. It felt like a kind of punishment - I was a stupid and mean little hound.
When granny was walking with Toke and Sniff, I had to stay home and "guard the house". This was not funny, either, so in my mind I preferred the camping ground.
Oh, what a happy dog I was, when Löken at last got out of work and once again was free to spend all of her time with me.

MY LANGUAGE

I may as well admit it - I´ve always been a talkative dog. Of course I don´t speak the human way. Not that I have not tried making noices with my lips, but there seems to be something missing in my mouth, because I can´t get any words out of it.
Löken keeps telling me I´m very close, though. I have such a distinct way of expressing myself, that she is yet understanding exactly what I want to say.
If somebody is threatening to hurt me, I am raising a horrified scream. The same if I´m hurting myself somehow - squeezing a toe between the boards in our terrace or pricking my muzzle with the thorns of a bush, which I´m poking my head into. When my leash is getting stuck somewhere I´m confining myself to just barking intensely. I´m also barking when locked out in the garden and waiting to be let in again. (But I´m ALWAYS eager to be let in as soon as possible, so I suppose my mistress considers I´m barking all the time.)
When our owners are entering the front door, we are all yelling like a pack of wild wolves. It is fun and good for the spirit. The only bad thing about it is, that it is annoying our owners. Occasionally it´s making them so angry that they are turning around on the doorstep, leaving us alone again - and this is not the intention, so then the message is not clear enough.
But speaking is not just barking and crying out loud for joy. I´m having a weakness for whining. I know it is very unpopular, but often I cannot control myself. Luckily for granny she has become a bit deaf, so she can´t hear the whistles in the highest pitch of my voice. We use to call them "the supernatural". Primarly Sniff "invented" them, but as we dogs tend to learn from each other, now I´m squeaking exactly the same.
I have already told you about my body language - ears withdrawn, one front paw lifted and lying down on my back - but all of that are really just my humble signs of submission. I have not yet explained about my different ways to show happiness. Except for lots of barking I am very keen on jumping, waving my paws in front of me and dancing on the rug like a maniac. Toke is doing something similiar, although more like a kind of rubber ball, straight up and down on the same spot - he is looking like a flying dog with ears instead of wings.
When Löken and I are together we are speaking our own secret language, consisting of little gruntings and mutterings, alternating with sighs and almost inaudible whining sounds. This is especially common when she is sitting in the TV-room and I am lying in the armchair beside her. We are speaking very silently, not to disturb granny...but as soon as the News are finished I´m leaping up, starting to dance around, screaming "HURRAY, now it´s time for an evening snack!"
(Even SHE is understanding that...but why is she always getting so cross?)
When something is interesting me or I´m just wanting a piece of food, I´m tipping my ears forward, pointing at the thing with my nose while staring at it, intensely. If Löken doesn´t comprehend I´m briefly seeking eye contact and then at once return to my staring. The troubled wrinkles in my forehead make me adorable, she says, but often she is cold as ice, refusing to get persuaded. Sometimes I have to use forcible means and catch her arm between my forelegs or scratch it with my nails. Although this is not a good method, because if she finds me too difficult it may happen she gives me a slap instead. Human skin is so fragile and tense. That´s hard for me to remember, having a thick splendid coat of my own.

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