George and Lola

George and Lola enjoy a chewy bone together after mauling each other (and Dom) over whether or not Lola should be allowed to sniff around and explore new territory or be forced to play against her will. George thought the latter. He thought wrong. Lola won. Note George's bewildered expression. 

George realises that Lola might love him if she notices him with chewy bone. He decides to bury it anyway. He will return with it in a week or so, soggy and muddy and plonk it on the previously cream carpet.

Lola goes to town on her chewy bone. If George at any point existed, he no longer does.

They have spied the chicken. They cannot have the chicken however, as they are in jail.

"Come on Lola, pleading eyes! And whimper. We must whimper for one whole hour and then we will have the chicken. All the chicken."

George wants Lola to love him back. Lola wants the sofa to herself.

George brings home a slimy friend

The friend was thankfully unharmed (as was George). In fact the only one who seemed to suffer through the ordeal was me as I chased a toad around my dining room with a glass bowl! George (locked in the hallway with shoes aplenty) was his usual dazed and confused self. The vet assured me that the wailing that ensued was simply George upset about losing yet another friend and not a result of toxic toad slime. He searched the garden for about an hour before trotting back in to tell me off and chew a cardigan. Throughout the evening he would stop and grumble in my general direction every 20 minutes or so. I gave him a broad bean and he forgave me. He's easily pleased.

Aw Muuuum!

"Just let me nap! Enough with the squeezing."

George eats a sock

He was quite sleepy when this opportunity was seized and so we managed to snatch it back with ease and hide it on the bookshelf. This was almost an event. Almost.

The bottom lip

If you look at George from the right angle (in the right light, at the right time of day, under the full moon) you can see his bottom lip. I love looking at him with a bottom lip. He looks like a little old man.

A trip to Victoria Park

This weekend we took George on an 8 mile round trip to Victoria Park in the centre of Leamington. On the way back his paws gave up for a moment and he had himself a wee lie down. Dom carried him for about 6 minutes. This is George's first October and first time in the autumn leaves. Much fun :)

Another one bites the dust

After two months of the bear, it has finally gone. This is the longest lasting toy George has ever had. It was a furry rag for about 6 weeks but George became bored and simultaneously run out of things to bury. The inevitable happened. So long bear...

Part of me is a little disappointed in myself for never taking a picture of George wearing bear's jumper. He was just so traumatised by the experience (it was a size too small so he couldn't really walk properly) and when I took him up to show Dom he seemed both disappointed and baffled by me in equal measure. I felt a bit like the 6 year old who washes the walls with ketchup. So I decided against asking George to pose. Curses!

George and his napping

George is almost one year old now and as far as he's concerned, the time has come to give up the romping and foraging and bee chasing and focus on what all dogs of a certain age eventually end up with...the all day nap

Just woken up from an upside down sleep. He has lost all his ears.

George gets the snip...because of the nip

George may look all floppy-ears and big brown eyes but under that Norman Rockwell facade was a nippy little monster. He had moved on from chewing socks and skirting boards, to fingers and ankles (and arms and feet and toes and knees and noses and chins) and so the vet suggested we bring him in for a...special treatment. George took it like a trooper but not before a full 10 hours of looking at me like this -

"Mum, I have a cone on my head and my boy parts are gone. I can't help but think you had something to do with this."

George is back!

George has been awfully busy lately but now that he's settled into his new home (and we have an internet connection) it's time to start blogging again!!

Since we last spoke...

George has moved house to Leamington Spa in Warwickshire. He has a new buddy at his local park, her name is Lola and she's a 6 month old Jug (Jack Russel / Pug - pics to come). He likes to chew her ear. She likes to respond with a gutteral sound that resembles drowning. She also has a curly piglet tail that George likes to 'boing!'*

George had a visit to the vets for the snip (see later post). He was awfully good but we fear he may have needed a few more hormones developed first (he popped in at 6 months) as he has since turned into a prissy girl dog. This is not helped by his new favourite find on the streets...baby dummies. It is not a rough and tough look. Will have to buy a leather collar with spikes if he keeps this up (or perhaps a shiny pink bow...)

We have started buying George huge great big Flintstone-style bones from the butchers (I would include a pic as he is currently trailing one around the living-room, even after my repeatedly reminding him it is an outside toy, but it is totally pink and gross and...boney). George has taken to burying them in the garden and then dragging them back inside over our cream carpet. He has also tried to bury them in the sofa and then covering up the evidence with our Mexican blanket. I have explained to him that it would be much easier to get our hands on another Beagle than a blanket from Mexico but he doesn't appear to listen. He just sits there looking smug knowing that no-one will ever again find his bone - he doesn't notice of course that half of it is still poking out from between the sofa cushions. We don't say anything.

George is now pretty much as big as he plans on getting. At his last weigh in (at the new vets - he had a funny tummy) he was 14 kgs!!! See pic of him with his dad taken by our cousin Jemma a couple of weeks ago:

Notice how even at 11 months old, he still enjoys showing off his 'seal pup' impression.

*Boing! definition: the art of pulling a curly piglet tail with teeth until straight like Beagle tail, then releasing.

Blogger MIA

Hi George fans!

I'm so sorry there haven't been any blog posts of late. We've had a virus on our laptop but will hopefully be up and running again soon.

I didn't realise how many followers George actually has! Apparently the two official followers make up a mere fraction as it's 'hard work' to join unless you're a Twitter fan.

After a few gentle nudges (that quickly turned into shoves) I decided to post a wee note to let you all know that blogging will return as normal soon.

George is doing absolutely fine. He's now about 12 kilos, which means I can officially give up the dumbbells (which is just as well, as George has buried them) and is at last starting to look like a real Beagle!

Here's a photo of George and his Pop-Pop on a Sunday afternoon to keep you going.

An update

George has started puppy training with one of the greatest trainers in Britain (sic) Tony Orchard. He missed the first week because he had a funny tummy but in spite of that, is already top of the class. In fact, Tony used him as an example 3 times! There is another Beagle in the class called Harley. People always ask what breed George is and many mistake him for a Jack Russell. It's clear just how unbeagley George looks next to Harley (a real Beagle, unlike Beagle-in-training, George). Will try and nab a photo in the next few weeks.

George is now officially a red-head. A lot of Beagles are born more black than tan, but their fur will lighten quite early on. Up until a few weeks ago, George's head was completely black. Now it's positively copper-toned (see second pic of 'Pooped' below).

George has now outgrown his collar and had to get a new one. He was last weighed (last week) at 7.4 kilos. He's only supposed to grow to be 9 kilos and he's only just turned 5 months. The vet thinks he'll be bigger than we intially thought. I can still pick him up with relative ease, but I'll be able to throw the dumbbells away if he gets much bigger.

It has now been 5 whole days since George pooped or pee'd inside. Yippeee!

I'd like to say that George has also not escaped from the garden for a whole week. This would have been true up until around 20 minutes ago when a neighbour in a dressing gown (at 2:30 in the afternoon. Heavy night?) pointed out that he was picking bluebells from next door's garden. Or was it digging them up? I wasn't paying much attention to what she said. She was in her dressing gown.

Pooped!

It's a tough life...

George can sleep standing up!

Or is perhaps in need of his first pair of sunnies...

In case you're interested: http://www.doggles.com/

It's almost as ludacris as this... http://www.petsathome.com/shop/pet-stroller-by-happy-trails-23921

I guess it's gotta come in useful for someone!

Wait...cross!

A few posts back I mentioned that George knows to wait at the kerb before being told he can cross. I started this on his first walk and he now knows how to stop and wait without needing to be told (pat self on back).

Observe...

This is also the position George will hold at the end of the cross while walking along, waiting for his treat.

Our neighbour called him spoiled the other day because he gets a treat for crossing the road. Why I oughta!

George mid-howl

George is very vocal. The Beagle is thought to have been named after the french word 'begueule' which means 'open throat'. This seems fitting. George has a wide range of noises. He barks, bays, howls, cries, growls, squeaks when he yawns, chatters when he's sleepy and grumbles when he's not getting his own way (often, as own way is usually to stand on the coffee table or chew insole).

Our favourite is the howl and bark-howl (reserved for when he sees Dom only) as his mouth becomes a little 'O' shape. This somewhat captures it...

How to play fetch with George

Step 1: Prepare George for the throw (i.e. hold him by the collar and ask him to sit. He most likely will not sit)

Step 2: Throw the ball

Step 3: Retrieve the ball yourself after George runs after it but decides to leave it where it lands. Dom has learned not to show off, throwing javelin style to the other end of the park. And he mocked my girly throws landing the ball a few feet away. Now who's laughing?

Sunny Sunday at the park

I have a new camera, the sun is out, this can only mean one thing...even more pictures of George. This morning we went for our usual walk in the park.

George now spends most of his time at the park off the lead, so while Dom is throwing a tennis ball and I'm snapping pictures of trees and pet tombstones, no-one has hands for the lead. The lead is on the ground.

MUST     DESTROY      LEAD!!

As I said, my focus was elsewhere. Rest in peace Snip.

George's hiding place

Our old house gets chilly at night so sometimes we need an extra duvet. We keep it under the bed. George found it. It's his new favourite place to camp out, often with a chew toy.

George vs Strawberry

Confused by the taste of something completely foreign, George decides to battle the strawberry.

2nd Spotting...The Blur!

Spotted: in the park with a stick. This stick did not belong to him. It belonged to an Alsation named Ooony (that may not have been his name, his owner was very far away). The Blur does not care if a stick belongs to someone else. Nothing is faster than The Blur.

Teeny, weeny George

I found this photo of George on my laptop today. It was the one from the advertisement for Beagle puppies. This may have been George's very first photo. He was probably only about 6 or 7 weeks old here.

Look at those big fluffy ears! Sell it Georgie!

Anything to keep George occupied

We are always looking for new ways to keep George entertaining himself while we get on with other things, such as ironing (George chews the lead), cooking (George tries to bake himself), mopping the floor (George must defeat mop head with use of baby teeth) or eating lunch (all the food in the whole wide world is George's).

So far we have discovered that anything that takes him longer than a minute to chew down to crumbs will work. Crackers, ice-cubes, a frozen chip, apple cores or a slice of french bread are favourites thus far.

George with the end of a loaf of bread. George takes his treat outside, buries it, then digs it back up immediately and eats in on the living-room carpet. Thank you puppy.

Fetch!

When George was really little he loved fetch, but he then decided there were more important things to play with in the garden than a tennis ball (snails, pebbles, the recycling box) and refused to acknowledge our efforts. Fetch is apparently in again (or if you've ever seen Mean Girls, fetch is...fetch!)

George can now be trusted (kinda) off the lead, as long as none of his pals are around.

    

                    

A new pastime

If ever we want to calm the Beagley one, we simply pick him up and stand by the window. George gets mesmorised by the cars and people and birds and leaves and will remain quiet and dosile for a least a minute and a half.

George has now discovered that he no longer has a need to be picked up to look outside. Now, when he decides he needs some 'zen' time, he simply hops onto the sofa and moves the curtains to one side with his paw. He feels it centres him. It's less hassle than sending him off to the ashram.

Grandma Came to Stay!!

George is one of those puppies who people on the street find very tricky to resist. Although he's an awfully sociable being, he's also terribly busy and doesn't usually have time to chat or cuddle. Therefore everyone who meets George could hope for, at the most, a quick check to see if you have any treats and then he's off, leaving reams of disappointed children and eldery in his wake.

There are certain people, however, who will receive the royal treatment. The creme de la creme of this welcome so far has to have been when my mum came to stay. George decided that Grandma was to be his best buddy, play-thing and snuggler; the one who would enjoy the very best cuddles and licks.

George is now looking everywhere he can think of to find her. We keep telling him she's gone away but he refuses to believe it and has a increasingly forlorn demeaner. Come back soon Grandma!

Um, George??

No, it's Maisy! The Beagle cross from our puppy parties! Slightly droopy version of the classic, or George pulling 'squishy face' (yet to be documented - stay tuned)