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Greyhound Anabel’s First Drama 2010/05/26

Posted by anabelgreyhound in Anabel's Boudoir.
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 An investigation is under way. Mom came home and found two large bags of bird seed strewn all over the living room. She was not happy. In fact she was hopping mad. She yelled, “Beamer, you litle devil.” Beamer instantly protested, “Hey, you think I did all this work by myself?”  Me, Ice and Paco remained quiet, watching the smoke billowing from Mom’s nostrils. “Fine, so I will interview each of you  and I expect you to bark me the truth.”
 Ice was taken into the second bedroom first. The door closed and us three greys stood close to the door trying to hear what Ice would say. Would he give us up? After a few minutes, Ice came out, tail between his legs, and jumped up onto the chaise. “Well, what did you tell her,” asked Beamer. “Did you squeal on us?” “I told her I was outside when the bird seed was flung around, so I didn’t see anything. But she knows I don’t pull these types of tricks.” I heard Beamer mutter, “Smug bastard.” Not sure what that means, but it sure didn’t sound good.
 “Paco, get in here.” Head lowered, Paco goes into the second bedroom. Again, the door closed and we couldn’t hear anything. Moments later, Paco emerged. “O.K., so what did you tell her,” asked Beamer. “I just told her that I kicked some of the stuff around that was on the floor. I nibbled on it but as it didn’t taste good, I went to my doggie bed in the bedroom.”
 “Anabel, your turn.” Oh Oh, I’m up. “Anabel, how did the bird seed get on the living room floor?” I gulped and wandered to the window, playing for time. “I’m waiting.” I turn and see Mom with her hands on her hips looking very stern. “Well, it’s like this. We all saw the bag on the counter by the coffee pot. I asked Beams, what do you think that is? Could it be doggie biscuits?”  “And what happened next? “When Beams heard the words doggie biscuits, he started sniffing and poking with his nose at the bag. And, can you believe this, the bag fell on the floor.”  “And?” Well I sort of sniffed the bag a little, but it didn’t smell like doggie biscuits to me, but it was an interesting smell, so I pawed at the bag to see what woudl fall out.” “And how did the bag find its way into the living room?” Now I’m in trouble. If I tell her Beams carried it into the living room, I’m squealing on my new roommate and there may be repurcussions. This I can’t afford. So I had to ‘wing’ it.
 “It’s like this, fifty quail flew down the chimney, opened the fireplace doors and flew into the kitchen. They were so pleased that you had bought them bird food, and they were so hungry, that they carried the bag into the living room, opened it up, and started to eat.” “Fine, but this doesn’t explain how the bird food was scattered throughout the living room – so what do you have to say about that?” “Well, as the bird seed started spilling out of the bag, I pawed at it and it rolled across the floor, so I chased it. It was such a good game. I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong.” “What’s the rule around here about what’s yours and what’s mine?” “Anything on the floor is mine. And it was on the floor.”
 “And where are the fifty quail?” “Oh they flew up the chimney after they were finished eating.”  After much huffing and puffing, the bedroom door was opened and I was free to leave. Phew. I don’t know if she bought my story, but at least I didn’t squeal on Beamer.
 “Beamer, get your butt in here.” Beamer looks at me. “No, I didn’t mention your name, but be prepared, ‘cos she’s really mad.” Beamer disappears behind the closed door.
 “So, what do you have to say about this disgraceful behavior?” Beamer went on the offensive: barks, whines, growls, but it did him no good. Mom was exasperated and we could now hear her through the door. “How many times do I have to tell you to keep your snout away from things that are not yours.” “But Mom, it was on the floor.” “Yes, but how did it get there?” The moment of truth had arrived – would Beamer spill the beans or would he protest because he’s the oldest dog in the pack and would cry age discrimination. “Who took the bag of bird seed off the counter and carried it into the living room? It’s a simple question and I want the truth, and I want it now.”
 Silence. We could hear Beamer pacing in the second bedroom. “I’m waiting.” Finally, Beamer gave it up. “Yes, I took the bag off the counter. I thought it might be dog biscuits and I was hungry. You usually feed us between 1:00 and 1:30 p.m., but you were not here, so I just checked it out.” “And when did you discover that it was not dog biscuits.” “When I dragged it into the living room, opened up the bag and nibbled on it. It didn’t taste good but it was rolling all over the floor so it turned into a game.”
 “And when did the 50 quail get into the act?” “Quail, I don’t know nothing about no stinking Quail.”

Greyhound Anabel Turns 3 in June 2010/05/26

Posted by anabelgreyhound in Anabel's Boudoir.
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Welcome to my boudoir

June 4 is my birthday and I will be 3. My name is Anabel. Just think, this time last year I was chasing that stupid thing around the track with my buddies. I guess the track people thought I was one dumb hound, but I knew that thing I was chasing was not real. Frankly, I prefer chicken to rabbit, so why exert myself and possibly break a leg or hock  I think not.
I raced 12 times and never won a race. I was one of the lucky rejects. Not only did I probably receive less steroids, but AGR rescued me from the racing industry and placed me at their leased kennel. Competition at the kennel is fierce to snag someone’s attention that we hope will be that special person to take us home. But I’m cute, young and very appealing, so I knew it wouldn’t take long before I spotted a likely candidate.
Sure enough, one Sunday, a volunteer arrived at the kennel to do turnout: take us out for exercise, clean our condos, and feed us. As she walked past each condo and greeted us individually, I did a little whining, scratched at the cage door, and flashed a winning greyhound smile. The volunteer paused at my condo and I made sure to rub my body against the bars showing that I needed physical contact, and whined a little more. She was hooked. Three days later, she returned and I was escorted out of the kennel and introduced to home living and Beamer, my new greyhound roommate.
Beamer is used to being the only greyhound in the home, so I had to schmooze this boy and kiss his ring occasionally so that I would be accepted. Beamer did his Prima Donno stuff for a few days: ignored me, barked at me when I sat on the doggie bed he wanted, pouted and ran whining to Mom when I wouldn’t give it up, but I wasn’t backing away from this gig. It’s so cosy around here.
So Beamer and I are getting to know each other and I think he realizes that I’m a great pooch, but not a pushover, that is always open to negotiation when problems crop up.
Mom is working on my birthday gifts: a stainless steel tag that will contain my personal information in case I should ever get lost, and a new collar with my name on it. So I’m a happy girl.  I wonder if Beamer will get me Frosty Paws as a birthday gift?

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