The Posse and the ESP Trials.

For a while now, Tuppence has been staring at me in ways that make me check my Carotid Artery. You can never be sure what a born carnivore is thinking.

She's been coming in to where I am, sitting down in front of me, and staring in a most intense manner. When I look at her and ask, “Hey, Girl, what do you need?” She cocks her head and pushes her nose a bit closer to me. When I still say, “What is it, Girl?” She gives her head an ear-slapping shake and walks disgustedly away.

It's more than a bit disconcerting.

Finally, I found her relaxed in a Sun Spot, and got her to tell me what's up.

It seems the Beagle Posse has been diligently practicing its Mental Telepathy on me. Beaglepathy.

I told her that was silly. Beagles can't Mind Control humans. Her snort kicked up a small dust devil on the carpet. (Remind me to vacuum.) She gave me her best canine “what do you know “ look, so I went on to explain that people have experimented with telepathic messages for many years, and it has never been scientifically shown that humans can do that.

She just rolled over as she said, “Of course not. You can't play a Concerto without a piano, Chump.”

I said, “Huh?”

She got her, “you proved my point” look. Generally beagles pass gas when they get that look. Of course, generally, beagles pass gas.

Finally, she turns around, stretches, shakes her butt, and begins to explain.

“What happens at 6 am and 5 pm every day?”

“We feed you two.”

“Uh, huh. And what happens at 11 every day?”

“You get dog biscuits for Elevenses.”

“Right. And what happens when our water bowl is empty?”

“I fill it.”

“There. You don't think those are YOUR ideas do you?” And more gas passes. There is nothing more irritating than a smug beagle breaking wind.

I reply, “You think you cause me to do stuff to take care of you?”

“Yep, otherwise you'd forget.”

She scratches behind her left ear and says, “And we keep all the solicitors, pollsters, and riff raff from ringing the door bell. We do it with Beaglepathy.”

I jump on it. “Aha! I got you there. I put up the “No Soliciting” sign on the front door.”

Beagle snort. “Sure, that stops the easy ones. The ones who can read. We keep away the illiterate solicitors. That's the hard job.”

I notice that during all of this, Tommy has not entered the conversation. He's been sitting over in the corner with that Hard Beagle Stare look.

I said to Tuppy. “Look. I'm the human. I'm the one with the power of reasoning and the opposable thumbs around here. And I tell you there is no such thing as telepathy. Your examples are nonsense. Pure coincidence. They prove nothing.”

It is, I guess, a bit dumb to be claiming superior intellect while arguing with beagles.

Tuppence apparently has the same thought. She wanders through the dog door and begins chipmunk patrol around the patio.

I need to post this and go. My head is throbbing, and it feels like something inside is screaming “TREAT!! TREAT!! TREAT!!”