Farewell, old enemy

Until about 10am this morning, we had two dogs. The little beagle (above, right) was moved on to what I hope will be his new adoptive home.

I know, you dog lovers out there will label me a hater and a monster and all around bad guy. Thing is, I liked him too. And hated him. Which, means, I guess, that I loved the little jerk.

A bit of background? Why not?

We bought Roscoe (his name) from a crusty old farmer in Western Maryland, up around Cumberland. He was born in something that resembled a chicken coop, with about 6 other pups. By the time we showed up there were only two left, him and his sister (who was sweet but looked very sick, no thanks). All beagle pups are cute, little tri-colored things, he pretty much sold himself.

No, I never wanted a beagle. I know the breed from childhood, some neighbors had one who howled and howled - you could hear Billy the beagle about 1/4 mile away, all day and night sometimes (mostly because his owners stuck the poor thing in the back corner of their yard and ignored it).

We got him anyway. And he was cute. But the breed is tough to potty train, and Roscoe was no exception. I think he peed on every square inch of our home. I'll never forget the day he jumped on my bed and let loose. The bastard. Or his snoring. We tried letting him sleep with us at night and he'd sound like a blast furnace roaring all night. I believe I one threw him across the room like a shot-put since I couldn't sleep what with his noise.

Oh, and he was messy. I found him eating diapers one more. Dirty ones. I swear. And his own poop. Yup. He ripped open a sofa. Piddled on two others (thank you, Bissell).

And untrainable. We started him on a run, he was tangled 7 times a day. The neighbors called him "Houndini" for his ability to break from the run and then inevitably tangle himself upon a tree or shrub. The Invisible Fence solved his escapist ways.

And loud. His howling probably annoyed everyone as he'd bay at every dog that passed our house. Didn't matter what time.

And needy. Always jumping when you didn't want him to. Always overly affectionate to the point of wanting to punch him.

I can't ever re-acquire the time spent cleaning up after him or cleaning him or dealing with the disasters he'd leave in his wake. The bastard.

Despite all of those wonderful things, that's not why I had to take him away this morning. A couple years back I sought out an allergist to determine why I was getting so many sinus infections, and learned I was extremely sensitive to dogs. I started the therapy and also had surgery, and I've been getting better since then. But two dogs would still set me off, so we're attempting to downsize the canine presence 'round here to see if it'll help.

Last night we went around the table telling silly Roscoe stories, the legendary day I found him in a briar patch was one. Or the diapers. ewwww.

I guess, at long last, he'd been accepted into the family's story. And even though he's not here anymore he's still always going to be a part of our little story - wherever else it may lead. It was a sad day, I was pretty bummed. I held his little body in my hands in December 2003, and today, I let him go.

He, of course, being what he is, went merrily away with the nice lady who accepted him. Wagging his tail and following his nose to wherever it led him. No doubt, he found something worth eating.

Bye, pal.