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A typical search and destroy mission

The pattern was established back in the winter of 2003, Ricky’s first Christmas.  Matt, then 22, and Robby, 10, were locked in one of their weird competitions:  Whose gift would Ricky like better?  Matt had stashed away three french fries from a recent visit to the Diner, which he covered with a paper napkin and placed in a small box.  He then

Exhibit "A"

put that box inside another box, wrapped the whole deal, stuck a bow on it, and placed it under our “tree” — the indoor basketball hoop covered with a green fleece blanket, topped by a gold star, and decorated with a single strand of lights.  (The tree was also Matt’s handiwork.)  He buried his special present under the pile

Exhibit "B"

of boxes — maybe three layers deep.  Later on, while carting his last few gifts to the tree, he discovered the box of french fries was missing.  All that was left was a pile of

Exhibit "C"

shredded paper and cardboard.  Remarkably, nothing else had been disturbed.

It happens every year.  Carol and I are wrapping present upstairs in my study.  Matt, Greg, and Robby are wrapping presents downstairs in the playroom.  From time to time the “finished” gifts are hauled into the den and deposited under the “tree.”  All five of us lose track of Ricky.  And then, all of a sudden, we realize it’s become too quiet . . .

The "guilty" verdict

In 2007, the victim of Ricky’s search-and-destroy mission was a box of Godiva dark chocolate that had been ticketed for Nana.  In 2010, he actually gnawed the end off a mahogany wine holder Matt had brought back for us from a shoot his ad agency had done in Argentina.  (Ricky’s always been partial to wood.  There’s no accounting for taste . . . )

The sentence

Which brings us to Christmas Eve 2012 — two nights ago.  Same deal.  Carol and I upstairs.  The three boys downstairs.  Ricky . . . who knows?

I get that familiar foreboding.  “Has anyone seen Ricky?”  No answer.  I rush down to the den . . . and I see small brown piles all over the carpet.  But no, it’s not . . . what I think it is.  Ricky has “unwrapped” and then helped himself to a box of Starbucks K-cups that had been destined for yours truly, leaving the remains all over the floor.  I suppose I shouldn’t have found this surprising, since he goes crazy over the smell of joe when it sits between us in the cup-holder of my Jeep.

We figured he’d be up all night after the caffeine hit, but no, no ill effects:  As usual, he slept like a baby.

Though I guess going forward I’ll have to prepare two cups of coffee on my Keurig every morning.

LOOK FOR A NEW BEAGLE MAN POST EVERY THURSDAY.  OR PRETTY CLOSE TO THURSDAY.  COULD BE WEDNESDAY.  OR FRIDAY.  LET’S NOT GET TOO OBSESSIVE HERE . . .  OH, AND BTW, YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER

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Bet you didn’t know that Ricky’s Bar & Grill in Seattle has “nice healthy options” and “the staff is always very friendly and courteous”?  (Insider Pages)  Or that Hank’s Fine Furniture, with a whole bunch of locations in the South, has been repeatedly voted “the Best of the Best place to buy furniture in Arkansas, Missouri, and Texas”?  Those two are just a couple of the places I want to visit next September.  Remember at the

You probably can't tell, but I actually fudged this photo

beginning of LA/XC-2, when Beagle Man said our plan was to stop at random spots named “Hank’s” or “Ricky’s” all along our route, and take pictures of us in front of them?  Know how many times we did that?  Exactly zero! So if B-Man won’t take the time to do the research, then I’ll do it for him.  I’ll even load the addresses into his beloved Garmin!  Besides the two amazing establishments I’ve mentioned, I’ve also located Ricky’s Nails in Morrisville, Pennsylvania; Ricky’s Sports Theatre and Grill in San Leandro, California; Hank’s Oyster Bar in Alexandria, Virginia (hey, my good friend Toby the Bichon lives there!); and Hank’s Ice Cream in Houston.  And it’s not even Christmas yet; I still have nine months to keep looking!  Oh, and don’t worry, Matt:  If you decide to come along, I’ll find a bunch of “Matt’s” places, too.

The Roof Rack Report (#roofrackreport on Twitter, for those who follow me already on @BeagleManHank) appears on Mondays, usually.  It’s about politics, travel, food . . . important stuff like that.

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Expectant

Those of you who keep up with Beagle Man might recall a recent comment from Sarah, a loyal follower:  “Have you ever taken pictures of Ricky’s face,”

Surprised

she asked, “when he’s expressing different emotions — like happy, excited, hungry, frightened?”

Hungry

Unfortunately, I told her, a beagle’s expression always seems to be the same.  Unlike, say, Labs or Goldens, who have a variety of facial expressions and often look like they’re “smiling,” the default

Angry

set of the beagle’s jaw has a downward tilt.  It’s always been a minor regret of mine that no matter how happy or excited I believe Ricky to be, he always looks . . . serious.

Sarah was convinced, though, that I’d capture something with my camera, so in the interest of

Excited

science, I waited patiently for separate instances when Ricky was clearly expectant, surprised, hungry, angry, excited — and snapped photos.  Accompanying this post are the results of my study.

I rest my case.

LOOK FOR A NEW BEAGLE MAN POST EVERY THURSDAY.  OR PRETTY CLOSE TO THURSDAY.  COULD BE WEDNESDAY.  OR FRIDAY.  LET’S NOT GET TOO OBSESSIVE HERE . . .  OH, AND BTW, YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER

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I’ve been writing the Roof Rack Report for over three months now, and I’ve gotta say, the feedback has been a-mazing. Listen to this comment:  You should take part in a contest for one of the best blogs on the web.  I will recommend this site. Sweet!  That one comes from a follower called “Where to get a homecoming dress” — clearly a big fan.  And this:  I truly appreciate your piece of work.  Great post. That note was posted by “Making Use of Silk Flowers For Your Wedding Ceremony.”  All these comments are coming in via Spam (nah, I don’t know what that is, either), and they’re incredible.

So here I am, hiking around Emerald Lake (N. Dorset, VT) before the Jets game yesterday. Yup, if it's Sunday, I must be hiking.

Here’s my problem:  I think Beagle Man is actually jealous of the attention I’m getting, because he never posts these notes in the “Comments” section.  He only publishes stuff about his posts!  Here, just one more: Oh my goodness!  An incredible article dude.  Actually rarely do I encounter a weblog that’s both educative and entertaining, and let me tell you, you’ve hit the nail on the head. Why thank you, “PlelmleattNom-nfljerseys,” I really do appreciate it!  You know, every once in a while, I get a comment from one of my followers that really makes me think.  Like this one: When the river makes no noise, it is either dried up or much swollen. Wow.  Far out.

The Roof Rack Report (#roofrackreport on Twitter, for those who follow me already on @BeagleManHank) appears on Mondays, usually.  It’s about politics, travel, food . . . important stuff like that.

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This is not my first rodeo.  I know what goes on in this house in December.  Everyone’s sending e-mails to everyone else, complete with links, telling “Santa” what they want for Christmas.  Yesterday I overheard Beagle Man telling Greg he’d like a Muhammad Wilkerson jersey.  How pathetic is that?!  He couldn’t come up with a single Jets offensive player decent enough to ask for!  Man, I’ll bet those #96 jerseys are just flyin’ off the shelves.  I watched the Jets game yesterday and, quite honestly, it baffles me how B-Man can still root for that sorry bunch.  And he calls me stubborn.  Anyway . . . though I don’t recall anyone asking, here are a few things I’d like from Santa:  A whole houseful of waste baskets, filled to the brim with

A dog can dream, can't he?

dirty, used tissues; an empty pizza carton, preferably with some burned crusts and some stuck-on cheese; lots and lots of fresh snow; and maybe a beautifully gift-wrapped french fry, like the one Matt gave me a few Christmases ago.  Oh — and about B-Man’s question in his last post, asking why I “shakety-shake” my ears?  How the hell should I know?  I mean, why do I walk in circles before I lie down?  Why do I fetch stuffed animals repeatedly, even though I have no use for them?  Maybe, uh . . . because I’m a freakin’ dog?

The Roof Rack Report (#roofrackreport on Twitter, for those who follow me already on @BeagleManHank) will continue to appear on Mondays and will deal with travel, topical subjects, and whenever possible, food.

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All dogs do it.  Ricky does it.  But what I want to know is why does a dog shake his ears like that?

Let’s be clear.  When Ricky comes galloping at me from a distance, ears streaming behind him Dumbo-style — that’s not what I’m talking about.  When he tries to “kill” one of his stuffed animals by locking on it with his jaws and violently thrashing his head from side to side — that’s not what I’m talking about.  When he reaches up desperately with his front paws in an attempt to nab a bagel off the counter, and his ears flow back due to gravity — that’s not what I’m talking about.

No, I’m talking about that very distinctive action — I’ve referred to it before in this blog as “shakety-shake” — of whipping his head rapidly and repeatedly from side to side that he does when he gets up from a resting position.  I’m sure you’ve seen your dog do this.  And if you don’t see it, you hear it, because it comes with a very distinctive sound.

At 5 AM, the shakety-shake is the worst sound in the world. What it means is that Ricky has just woken up, and somebody needs to deal with him:  Take him outside, count out his pills, give him his breakfast.  (Remember when you had babies, and you heard those first little whimpers, before they turned into full-fledged wails? Yeah, that kind of sound.)  At other times of the day, though, when I’m up and about, the shakety-shake is actually kind of cute and endearing:  Hey, Ricky’s back!  What up, Dog?

But what does it mean? And why does he do it? I’ve been asking dog people this question forever — and have never gotten a satisfactory answer.  Internet sites talk about a dog shaking to dry himself (duh), or because he has an ear infection — but that’s clearly not the case here.

Here’s what I think.  I think it means:  I’m gonna shake off the cobwebs and get myself going.  I’m gonna get my ass in gear and start knocking stuff off my to-do list.  Sniff . . . forage . . . eat . . . nap . . .

What do you think?  Lmk.  Actually, we’ll probably be hearing from Ricky himself on this, now that he’s a journalist . . .

LOOK FOR A NEW BEAGLE MAN POST EVERY THURSDAY.  OR PRETTY CLOSE TO THURSDAY.  COULD BE WEDNESDAY.  OR FRIDAY.  LET’S NOT GET TOO OBSESSIVE HERE . . .  OH, AND BTW, YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER

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Did it ever occur to anyone around here that the “What Ricky Likes” contest should have been judged by, uh — Ricky? Seriously.  One of the reasons I’m so glad to finally have my own Roof Rack Report is that after hearing for over a year about what I supposedly think and what I supposedly like and why I supposedly do the things I do — now I can tell you the truth about what’s going on between these velvety ears of mine.  And for starters . . . Greg was right! Riding in the car is my favorite thing!  Sure, as Beagle Man so cleverly points out, I’ll make a beeline to the way-back for my food supply every chance I get.  And I’ll jump out of the car the moment I hear my dinner hit the tin bowl.  But you try going from 5:30 AM to 5:30 PM on two

Beagle Man's idea of a great Sunday. Another hike. How imaginative.

measly spoonfuls of kibble, and then tell me about your priorities.  It’s not that I love eating better than driving; it’s that I’m freakin’ starving! Oh, and btw?  Those Sunday hikes B-Man thinks I love so much?  I tolerate them — but only because I can extort all those treats out of him as bribes for forward progress.  Jeez, hasn’t he noticed yet that I move a helluva lot faster on the way back to the car than I do on the way out?

The Roof Rack Report (#roofrackreport on Twitter, for those who follow me already on @BeagleManHank) will continue to appear on Mondays and will deal with travel, topical subjects, and whenever possible, food.

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A highly competitive Final Four: Crate . . .

It’s time to announce the winner of the “Ricky’s Favorite Things” playoffs, and I have to admit, I’m feeling pret-ty guilty — for two reasons.  One:  Nepotism.  Yes, the winner was Matt, my oldest son — with a perfect score of 30.  I obviously should have realized that in a contest of this nature, family members would have a huge advantage, and I should have barred them from entering.  My apologies to the droves* of non-family Beagle Man followers who submitted brackets; it won’t happen again.  Then again, you might ask, if the answers were so obvious to family members, why was Matt able to post a perfect score, but not Greg, his brother?  (Robby, of course, did not enter.  I’ve learned that if the post isn’t about him, he stops reading after the first paragraph.)  And herein lies the second reason I feel so guilty:  Greg got the championship game wrong

. . . eating . . .

because I — inadvertently, of course — totally misled him.

Below, the round-by-round pairings, and how they played out:

First Round

Clods of grass (lawnmower) vs. Country music:  I like to think Ricky loves country music the way I do, but there’s actually no evidence to support this.  On the other hand, he would kill for those tasty clumps the lawn guys leave behind.  WINNER:  CLODS OF GRASS

Eating (anything) vs. Getting toweled off: Blowout city.  WINNER:  EATING

Going for a walk vs. His crate: By and large, Ricky’s not a huge fan of exercise.  WINNER:  CRATE

. . . snow . . .

Jumping in water vs. Politics: Ricky will chase another dog to the water’s edge — and then jam on the brakes.  The only time he actually goes in the water is when he falls in from the edge of the pool — and then he becomes frantic and can’t get out fast enough.  Politics, on the other hand, well — you’ve read his Roof Rack Reports.  WINNER:  POLITICS

Playing with other dogs vs. Riding in car: He likes playing with other dogs. He loves riding in the car.  WINNER:  RIDING IN CAR

Seeing family after vacation vs. Sleeping: Here’s where both Carol and Greg slipped up.  Oh, they’ll argue with me.  They like to think that spotting us when we get back from a trip is Ricky’s favorite thing — and he does get awfully excited, slobbering kisses all over our faces with his tail a-waggin’.  But — I’ve also seen the times, when he’s got a real good sleep going, that he’ll open one eye, watch us come in from the garage . . . and go right on snoring.  This one went to overtime.  WINNER:  SLEEPING

. . . and car

Snow vs. Staying in motels: I was constantly amazed and impressed, during both LA/XC-1 and LA/XC-2, how eagerly Ricky explored new motel rooms and how quickly he got himself acclimated in each new Best Western or La Quinta.  But if you’ve ever seen him bound, dolphin-style, through new-fallen snow higher than he is tall, you’d know it’s no contest.  WINNER:  SNOW

Taking a bath vs. Visits to the vet: This looked like one of those contests in which neither team wanted to win.  While Ricky will stall at the bottom of the stairs to the vet, he’ll actually run and hide when it’s bath time.  WINNER:  VET

Second Round

Clods of grass vs. Eating: A confusing matchup, since what he likes to do, of course, with clods of grass is to eat them.  Nonetheless, the whole trumps the part in this one.  WINNER:  EATING

Crate vs. Politics: Crate pulls away in the fourth quarter.  WINNER:  CRATE

Car vs. Sleeping: Another tough matchup in the Elite Eight.  Again:  What Ricky does 99% of the time in the car is sleep.  Here’s the litmus test, though:  If he’s dead asleep on the couch in the playroom, and I open the door to the garage, and then open the door to the Jeep — he’ll run for the Jeep.  WINNER:  CAR

Snow vs. Vet: Vet only escaped the first round because it had such a soft opponent.  No match for snow.  WINNER:  SNOW

Semi-Finals

Eating vs. Crate: Sure, he loves his crate.  But here we are in the semi-finals, and eating has yet to be truly tested.  WINNER:  EATING

Car vs. Snow: Not as much of a blowout as the other semi, but Car is still able to rest its starters over the last five minutes.  WINNER:  CAR

Finals

Eating vs. Car: Here’s where I feel bad for misleading Greg.  Sometime after returning from LA/XC-2, amazed by how well a beagle dog reacted to over 8,000 miles in the shotgun seat, I impetuously stated, in Greg’s presence, that Ricky would choose riding in the car over anything — including eating.  Sometime later, I recanted — but I suppose Greg wasn’t around for that.  I got to thinking that during LA/XC-1, before I put the gate up closing off the cargo space and his food supply, Ricky spent every waking moment trying to wangle his way back there.  And that on the cross-country trip recently completed, the moment I’d go behind the car to prepare his meal, he was out the front passenger door like a shot.  Sorry, Greg.  WINNER:  EATING.

And thank you all* for entering.

*  “Droves,” in this instance, will be defined as two or more

*  “All” will be defined as greater than four but less than six

LOOK FOR A NEW BEAGLE MAN POST EVERY THURSDAY — OR THEREABOUTS. YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER