Me: Beaumont. We need to talk.
Beau: I’m busy.
Beau: Yah. Yah. Yah. Whatever.
Me: Beaumont. This is serious.
Beau: Taking me to the groomers and inflicting all that brushing and fluffing on me is serious Louise. If what you wanna talk about is what I think you wanna talk about, well that’s not serious. It’s just dawgie nature.
Me: Catching a squirrel isn’t serious?
Beau: I didn’t really catch it Louise. I picked it up in my mouth. It’s fur got all over my tongue and was yicky so I dropped it.
Me: Beau! You caught a squirrel. That’s just not right!
Beau: Explain to me what’s not right about following my dawgie instincts?
Me: I called you to stop.
Beau: You mean screamed…
Me: Well. I might have been a bit excited.
Beau: Well aren’t you the master of the understated.
Me: Fine. I screamed. But seriously. You had a squirrel in your mouth! What was I supposed to do?
Beau: Ask the squirrel to be still? Do you know how hard it is to figure out what’s in your mouth when whatever is in your mouth is thrashing around like a stuffie on crack?
Me: You were traumatizing it.
Beau: Was the squirrel okay?
Me: He might need therapy.
Beau: Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself Louise?
Me: You know you’re getting a reputation at the park as “The Bad Boy”?
Beau: Chick-dawgs dig bad boys.
Beau: Whad’ya want me to say?
Me: You’re sorry?
Beau: What? Is the squirrel here? I can apologize to him in person.? Oh wait! You just want me to do that Canadian thing of saying, “I’m sorry” to anyone and everything around. Sorry floor for sitting on you. There. Feel better.
Me: Beaumont. You know what I mean. What you did upset me.
Beau: Not as much as you upset me when you stuck the leash on me and dragged me away. You would have made a good cop Louise.
Me: (sigh) You’re not going to take my feelings seriously are you?
Beau: Are you going to take my feelings about getting brushed and fluffed at the groomer’s seriously?
Me: That’s different! Going to the groomer’s doesn’t endanger your life.
Beau: Coulda fooled me!
Me: (sighing again) That poor squirrel Beaumont. He was so scared.
Beau: And he’s probably up in some tree telling all his buddies how he got away from the giant squirrel on steroids.
Me: You’re not a giant squirrel Beau.
Beau: Finally we agree on something. I’m a dawg Louise. I follow my instincts and in this case, my instinct was to chase the squirrel.
Me: Did you have to catch him?
Beau: Hey! Not my fault he was so slow!
Me: (sighing loudly) Do you promise not to do it again?
Beau: Do you promise not to take me to the groomer’s again?
Beau: Then you have your answer. Your instinct is to get me all gussied up. My instinct is to chase squirrels. Case closed. See. You woulda made a great cop!
Sigh. And so it goes.
But Beau really did catch a squirrel yesterday! It ran across his path as he was chasing after the ball, and as he always does when a squirrel runs past him, he dropped the ball and chased after the squirrel. Except this time, unlike the thousand times before, he actually got the squirrel.
I’m not sure who was most surprised. Beau. The squirrel. Or me.
Fortunately, Beau immediately dropped him and the squirrel ran off up the tree. Traumatized, I’m sure, but not visibly worse for the experience.
Beau on the other hand… I think he thinks he’s now the Great Squirrel Hunter.
Sigh. Dawgs will be dawgs and Beau is definitely a real dawg!