Of Beagles and Babies

I love our dog. . . I love how she snores in her sleep, has a need to be in the same room with one of us at all times, plays tug of war with Elisabeth, and sighs when she is displeased with something. She is the most loving and adoring dog I have ever met.

But, there are times when I dislike our dog. I dislike how she digs after the mole in our backyard, creating her own little irrigation ditch. I dislike how she constantly is jumping up to the counter or Elisbeth's highchair to steal food. I dislike how she has a need to bury things in the back yard, dig them up a month or so later, and then hide them in any blanket she can find.

Tonight I have decided I definitely dislike her as much as I love her. I was sitting in the comfy rocking chair in my bedroom, reading Elisabeth her bedtime stories, when in runs our dog, desperate to get on our bed. After four struggling attempts to make the jump from our floor to the bed, Sofi finally makes it. She then heads straight our pillows, which I notice are stacked on top of each other as to form a tent like structure. Sofi begins to pull each layer of this tent off with her teeth until she uncovers what is obviously her treasure.

Great. She brought in some filthy, mud-laden bone from the backyard and buried it under my pillows. I was pretty sure I was going to kill her. Not wanting interrupt the bedtime routine, I make an attempt to ignore my dog nosing around for her goody. However, I noticed that the dog is not grabbing a bone and scampering away, like usual. Instead, she is going in, taking a bite of something very chewy and coming up for air. Images of the grossest thing imaginable (like some feces from the backyard that we forgot to pick up) race through my mind and I decide I have to intervene. As soon as I stand up to go see what is happening, Sofi lunges for the rest of whatever it is and bolts. There, in her mouth, is something at least a foot long. From where I stood, it looked like a huge piece of fungus or a piece of rotting wood from a fence. Of course I am not fast enough to catch the little scoundrel but after some investigation, discover my bed smells like wet yeast.

Then it dawns on me - The loaf of lingonberry bread my friends delivered yesterday was suspiciously missing from the MIDDLE of my dining room table. Yes, folks. Sometime between 4- 7:00 p.m. tonight, my dog jumped on the table, found the bread, ripped the ziplock bag off the bread and buried it under my pillows and sheets for safekeeping. Gotta love this dog.

So, after putting an exhausted baby to bed, changing my sheets, finding the dog and scolding her loud enough so my neighbors could hear, and putting off my homework to write this blog post, I decided I could give this dog away for a week. Maybe even a month.

Only her baby sister loves her too much. I can't imagine how Elisabeth would get through her days without having her pup to pet and love. And, if I dig down into my heart, I realize I feel the same.

Sofi - you are one spoiled and lucky dog.

Elisabeth giving Sofi "loves."