Hank, the Demon Beagle (Part 1)

Hank, the Demon Beagle (Part 1)

August 6, 2013, 10:05 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: crime, dogs, pets

This even looks like a mug shot, doesn’t it?

Let me start by saying I love dogs. My dogs are part of my family, my furry children. I have two. We have Charlie who is equal parts chocolate lab and unconditional love and then there is Hank, who is part beagle part devil sent to test my patience. We are a dog family, so much so that dodo (which means dog) was both of my kid’s first words. It is with a mixture of love and annoyance that I now tell the tale of Hank, demon dog extraordinaire. 

Hank is a smart dog. No, it is more than that. Hank is an evil genius. He is a little super-villain trapped in a 35 pound, furry body. Like every super-villain he has one key object of desire. Lex Luther had a lust for power, Dr. Evil craved millions in cash, Hank the Demon Beagle has an insatiable appetite for people food. You would think that we never feed him the way he pines for pizza or dreams about desserts. Trust me, this dog eats. He eats his food, he eats Charlie’s food and still he turned to a life a crime to get his fix. 

That’s right, my dog is a criminal. At first his misdeed’s were limited to our house. He would get on the counter and help himself to anything he could find. Then he discovered the trash can and all of its disgusting food scrap glory. Out of concern for his health we tried to keep his people food addiction in check, after all he wasn’t making good food choices. His favorite, it seemed, was double dark chocolate brownies. (Which he ingested the evening Greg and I had tickets to the World Series. His timing proves that he is a super-villain.) Hank has eaten chicken bones, mouse poison, Legos and finally a glass Christmas ornament that he thought was food.  We became very well known at our vet’s office. 

We Hank proofed the house, keeping all of the food well out of Hank’s reach. The cookie jar was moved to a tall shelf, because Hank had learned to push the nearby kitchen chair to the counter. The trashcan was locked in the pantry and the only food Hank was permitted to have was in his food bowl. That is when my beagle turned to a life a crime. Hank started breaking into my neighbor’s houses. 

I told you Hank was a smart dog. If he had opposable thumbs we might all be living in the kingdom of Hank. Even without dexterous digits Hank has mastered opening doors. He has figured out that if he puts his body weight against the door while pawing at the handle he can make his escape… or his illegal entry. While living in Castlewood, out in the middle of the woods, Hank would bust his way out of our house from time to time. He always came back in an hour or so, we didn’t think much of it. We thought he was taking little beagle romps through the woods. That is until my husband, while tinkering in the lawn, waved to my neighbor who was taking the trash out. 

Jerry, the neighbor, is an interesting guy. He is pure Castlewood,which means equal parts ingenuity and kindness with a liberal splash of redneck and a pinch of crazy. He is an awesome neighbor. He is also a confirmed bachelor who lives on pizza, BBQ and Busch Light beer. He also forgets to lock his door on a regular basis, apparently. On this day, while taking out the trash, Greg overheard Jerry’s grumbling rant. 

“You can always tell when Hank has been over,” he mumbled. “The trash can is knocked over, the pizza boxes are licked clean and the cat food is gone.” 

“Jerry, what are you talking about?” Greg asked. 

“Oh, Hank lets himself in about once a week and helps himself to the cat food and anything else that might be sitting around,” was Jerry’s reply. 

Greg apologized profusely the asked,  “Jerry, how long has Hank been doing this? ” 

“Oh, just for the past 6 months or so,” came the reply. 

“Jerry! Why didn’t you tell us sooner?!” 

“Well, it is survival of the fittest at my house. If the cat wants the food the cat should defend itself,” Jerry said. 

Like I said, part kindness and part crazy equals VERY understanding neighbor. Little did we know that this was just the tip of the iceberg of Hank’s criminal activity. He had broken into 4 of my 6 neighbor’s houses. Taking advantage of an open door while unloading groceries or a screen not quite latched properly he would make his move. Every time he went in on a search for food. At one neighbor’s he ate the rottweiler’s food, proving that he was fearless in his pursuit of culinary crime. At the other neighbor’s he cleaned up some leftover oatmeal from breakfast.

He was well known in the neighborhood, despite our efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow. Whenever our backs were turned he would escape and head out on his criminal escapades. Our neighbors would kick him out and send him home. Hank would crawl into bed at night content in the knowledge that he had the world (or at least Castlewood) on a string.

That is until we moved, and Hank went missing. 

(Stay tuned for part II) 

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