Beagle Bailey's First Halloween

Beagle Bailey's First Halloween
(Heaven help me, it's all true)

After Bailey had eaten our lovely new chair, he was given severely curtailed house privileges and allowed inside only if humans were around who would be awake and therefore able to curtail his slight proclivity toward furniture eating. That didn't bother him a bit, since outside there were rabbits and squirrels for chasing and woods to run through.

He did like sitting outside with me while I was working on my papier-mâché aliens, ghosts, UFO's, demons, monsters and whatevers. Bailey was good company. He tried a bit of the papier-mâché paste but decided it wasn't to his liking, so that was good, but Bailey did think that it was fun to take the large bag of torn paper to the front yard to empty and play in. I disagreed and after picking up the paper bits (which multiplied exponentially once out of the bag) a couple dozen times (in one day), I put them in a small, clean garbage can with a tightly fitting lid.

He didn't sulk. Really, other than his little problem with furniture, he was a great dog. I miss him so much, but this isn't about loosing him, it's about what he did while with us.

The Day finally arrived and I could safely put Halloween decorations outside without the neighbors whispering about how nuts I am. See, if you put Halloween decorations outside in your yard in May, you're totally nutso. If you wait until the first day of October, you just like Halloween. Of course if you invite them inside and they see life size (death size?) toe pincher coffins (yep, I make them too), ghouls, ghosties and other frankly weird things, well, you're back in the category of "complete nutcase," but I digress.

That year's UFO was a smaller one, about three feet across. Rather than hanging it from the tree, I had made little landing gear legs for it to stand on. I was still working on the mini tableau to go with the UFO - two aliens carrying a human on board the UFO - it was just the UFO sitting under the tree.

The next morning I got up, ready and rearing to go on making the aliens and terrified human as well as hanging more ghosts and getting the rest of the several dozen tombstones into position. As I stood on the porch drinking coffee and looking over the displays, I saw Bailey under the tree chewing on something I couldn't quite identify. Then I realized with horror that he was eating the UFO.

Since this was prior to the Blessed and All Knowing Internet, I called our vet. He answered the phone "Bailey just ate my UFO!" I screamed into the phone. Doc would understand, he knew the dog and he knew me.

The voice on the other end of the phone said "What?"

I figured I hadn't enunciated it properly. I'm hearing impaired so sometimes words don't come out quite as I want. "Bailey, you remember my beagle, Bailey? He ate my UFO! Should I bring him in? Will it hurt him?"

The voice repeated what I had said back at me - a ploy I would have used with a mental patient. Starting to think rather than react, it occurred to me that the voice, though male, wasn't Doc's. "Ah, is this "Handy Dandy Sick Pets We Cure Them All" vet practice. (Name changed for Doc's protection.)

The man agreed it was. I was relieved. "Is Dr. Blank there?"

The man told me that no, Dr Deleted was out of town and he was Dr. Someone else, taking the practice for a week.

Sweet relief. I still had a vet. "Well my beagle ate my UFO sometime during the night and I'm afraid he will get sick."

He repeated it back to me again. Hmmm, did he think he had a nut case on the phone? Oh, right, he may not know about the Halloween decorations, so I explained (slowly and carefully) about how I do a large haunt, blah blah and the dog ate the blanking (deleted for the vet's sake) UFO and what was I supposed to do?

He had me go over the paste ingredients (all non toxic, thankfully) and whether or not the dog had eaten any of the metal. I had gone over the detritus in the yard and reconstructed the metal armature so I could assure the vet that the dog had not eaten any metal, just the rest of the UFO.

I was assured that the dog would be OK and probably would get rid of whatever he couldn't eat.

Vastly relieved, I thanked the vet (who was probably delighted I wouldn't be bringing the dog into the office) and let Bailey into the living room where I collapsed into my chair with another cup of fuel. (Coffee)

About then he threw up about a gallon of UFO right on the new(ish) carpet.