The Case of the Burglarizing Beagle

The Case of the Burglarizing Beagle


The Case of the Burglarizing Beagle

     I must include this tale of intrigue that took place up in Bear Cove some years ago during a typical New Hampshire Summer's day helped by a typical Ziesing attitude. It was one of those utterly splendid afternoons when Squam lake was soft and inviting while storm clouds gathered above frolicking Bone swimmers bobbing up and down between the float and the dock. Kit Kat and Ed were the seal pups who had already distinguished themselves by recovering my sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom of the lake after an ill-advised dive off the dock. One of the greatest feelings in all of vacation time was the rare event when rain came down on the lake while temperatures remained balmy and literally demanded bathers to jump in and swim. I was paddling about when I noticed my boon companion heading up the path to the kitchen where he had a bead on a dagwood sandwich for lunch. Meanwhile, Kit, Ed and I tossed a tennis ball back and forth just trying to get exercise that meant good sleep for those campers who fell into their beds after dinner. Add to this story the rather wan disciplinary standards the Ziesing had for beloved pugs who basically did what they pleased and got away with the mostly minor crimes they committed. Yet, on this occasion Bea the Beagle was a visiting scofflaw and her training had some gaps in the lesson-giving. Beagles around the globe are well-known as human food stealers who cannot be trusted around any plate with vittles showing. In the kitchen Greg had decided to create a msterpiece of the sandwich art form. He had piled slices of turkey, slabs of ham, cheese and maybe a leaf of lettuce or segment of tomato on his slices of mayonaitted white bread. There were just enough meats and cheeses to complete the task and make another such creation impossible.  He completed his delicious looking construction, walked briskly to find a beverage in the service porch fridge when disaster struck. Bea, had approached silently and before she could be stopped had wolfed down a chunk of the dagwood and was found by our hero with the second half balanced in her mouth. As the kidlets and I swam in the rain there was a thunderous profane shout from the kitchen "GOD  DAMN YOU!" as Greg found the larcenous dog having gobbled up his wonderful sandwich. While that man really only loved one doggie, Bea was on the other end of that scale when it  came to canine esteem. She would forever be known as the thief of Bear Cove but certainly worth the howling laughter of myself and the red-headed heirs to the Sheehy fortune.




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