Every grandparent should have a Grand-puppy. They are fun, like Grandchildren, but without the daily responsibilities. My Grand-puppy is Charlie.
I remember when David first got Charlie for Staci. He was no bigger than a minute. Mike and I puppy-sat on several occasions when he was small. We firmly believed that he had invisible springs attached to the bottoms of his paws, as he seemed to bounce wherever he went. He thought the cats were his own personal play-toys. Chuck the cat finally got smart and would sit on a surface just high enough so Charlie couldn't reach him. Then, whenever Charlie would bounce by, Chuck would swat him in the head from his elevated perch. Charlie, rather than getting angry at being swatted, thought that this game was marvelous fun, and would bounce by time after time so Chuck could swat him.
The last time Charlie stayed with Mike and me, Mike had a bit of an adventure with Charlie and our two dogs, Buster and Rose. Mike decided he would try to walk all three dogs at the same time to save having to go up and down the stairs so many times. He hooked all three up to their leashes, and off they went. About fifteen minutes later, I heard a commotion outside our apartment door. There were dogs barking and Mike swearing. When I opened the door, there stood Mike with a couple of leashes wrapped around his legs and three overly excited dogs. "Help me untangle this mess," he said as he stumbled into the kitchen. I got the door closed behind them, and then dissolved into gales of laughter. Couldn't do anything but laugh. Mike had his angry face on, but at the sight of me helpless with laughter, he soon started grinning, too. As soon as I could stop laughing long enough, I unhooked the dogs from their leashes, and Mike extricated himself from the tangled mess. "I think I'll walk them one at a time from now on," he said. That worked out a bit better.
Charlie came to stay with me for a few days this summer while David and Staci were out of town. By that time, Buster and Rose had gone to their new home, so it was just Charlie, Noodle the cat and me. Charlie has mellowed out considerably since his puppy days. I really enjoyed his company. He would come up to me and look at me with those sad Beagle eyes until I would stop whatever I was doing, and pet him a while.
David brought Charlie's bed with him, and I put it next to my bed. It remained unused until he went home. Charlie preferred to lay by my feet at night, and he always faced the door. I was well protected and guarded.
Charlie's cage was here as well. I set it up in my bedroom for him to use while I went to work. Charlie is used to this when he is home. But he would have none of it while he stayed with me. The first morning I tried to leave him in it, he started barking as soon as I locked my door. I discovered that you can hear a Beagle's bark all the way from my apartment to outside my workplace next door. Knowing that my neighbors would be less than thrilled to listen to a Beagle bark all day, I went back upstairs, let Charlie out, hooked up his leash, and we both went to work. He was perfectly happy to be in a kennel at work where he could see me.
The second morning, I tried again to leave Charlie when I went to work. I found that the sound a Beagle makes when he howls carries nearly as far as does a Beagle's bark. So Charlie spent another day watching me work.
I took a few pictures of Charlie while he was here. As you can see, he seems to have worn himself out guarding me and watching me work. I really enjoyed having him with me for a few days, even if David didn't trust me to feed him properly. David claims that the last time he left Charlie with me, the dog gained five pounds, so David arrived with Charlie's food all measured out in zip bags - one for each day that he was here. Charlie likes chicken, meat loaf and hot dogs, as well as his dog food. But he is really partial to French Fries. Nice try, David.
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