Coffee Saw Dog

The Beagle Posse marched in using their stiff-legged “on a mission” walk.  Tuppence spoke first, “You have obviously lost count.”

“I see two beagles.  I see one me.  I see one wife.  I don’t have enough money to bother counting, I’m lost.”

Tommy said, “Our bowls. You’re a couple short.”

I said, ”You each have a dinner bowl. You share a giant, bottle-fed water bowl.  One. Two. Three.  Nope, I don’t see any dogware missing.”  And I tried to go back to composing brilliance for Facebook.

Tuppence kind of growled.  Tommy ‘acked in an attempt at throat clearing.  I was given to know that I had not ended the planned discussion.

Tommy demanded, “What do you have every morning that we don’t have?”

Tuppence added, “Afternoons too.”

“Reasoned thought,” I essayed.

“In a mug…..”  Tupp prompted.

“Well, coffee, of course.  But that has nothing to do with beagles.”

“So you say,” responds Tommy.  “You never share it with us like you do other snacks, and we’ve decided that’s because you haven’t given us coffee bowls to put it in.”

“I’m not about to……………”

Tuppence jumped in.  “You two huminz swear you can’t function without it.  We deserve a share.”

I decided to try the explanatory route, though when in beagle discussion, that seldom works.  “There are things we don’t share with you because they will hurt you.  Wine, chocolate. Coffee.”

“We never told you those weren’t good for us.”

“Well, veterinarians told us.”

Tommy yelped.  “Veterinarians?  Aren’t those the guys who shove thermometers up our…….”

“Stop!” I said.  “I’ll need to report this talk on a basically family blog.”

“We need coffee.” Demanded Tuppy.

“May I remind you,” I said, “of that time Tommy stole the bag of dark chocolate-covered espresso beans?”

“Didn’t steal,” said Tommy.  “I negotiated it.”

“Yeah, sure, you negotiated it off the counter when I wasn’t looking.”

“Successful negotiation,” he said.  “The art of the deal.”

“And you zoomed up and down the hall, and in and out the dog door for three hours, then had diarrhea for two days.  No thanks.  I don’t think I’m up for an encore.”

“We NEED it,” Tuppy repeated.

“Why?” I asked.

“OK,” she said, “Tell me, what have you said was your very favorite kind of coffee?”

Thinking….”Café’ Sua Da,” I said.  “Vietnamese coffee.”

“Bingo,” shouted Tommy.  “Coffee Saw Dog.”

“There’s no ‘dog’ in it,” I said. “Café’ Sau Da, means Sweet Strong Coffee in Vietnamese.  It’s made with espresso-strength coffee and Sweetened Condensed Milk.”

“Da, Dog,” he dismissed, “We hear what you call it.  You call it VRF.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“And what does VRF mean”

“I made up VRF as short for, ‘Vietnamese Rocket Fuel.”

“And that’s what we need,” jumped in Tommy.  “Rocket Fuel to help catch the Texas squirrels.  They’re fast, and here we only have the length of the patio to catch them before they’re out of reach.”

“So,” I said, “you want coffee to help catch squirrels?”

“VRF,” said Tommy.

“Zoom! Wham!” said Tuppence.  “I can just hear their little chirrupy voices screaming, INCOMING!”

“First, the last thing I need is souped-up beagles.  Second, why catch the squirrels?  What would you do with one if you caught him?”

“We’d catch him,” said Tommy.  “Then he’d be caught.”

“But what’s your plan beyond caught?” I probed.

Tuppence gave me the look.  “Beagles catch squirrels.  It’s our thing.”

“Well,” I countered, “you don’t really catch many, and it’s not like you need any extra food around here.”

“Food!!??” shrieked Tommy.  “Yuk.  I’m not chewing on one of those furry things. Pfft. Pffft.  Fur in my mouth.  Nope.”  (Tommy is among the persnickety line of canines.)

Tuppence tried to return me to the thread.  “We’d CATCH them.  That’s all.  Now, when do we get the VRF?”

“About never,” I said.  “I don’t think you’ve thought this plan through.”

“We don’t plan,” said Tommy.  “We zoom and catch.”

“You also seem to have failed to consider,” I said, “that if you are all ramped up on coffee, particularly Vietnamese coffee, in preparation for the squirrels, you will be too jazzed to nap.”

“And when that squirrel flicks his tail at me, I’ll kick in the rockets, and……….wait.  What?”

“The caffeine, I said, it will not only speed you up, it will keep you awake.  You won’t be able to nap between squirrels.”

“That’s not fair,” said Tommy. “Napping is our art form.”

“And the squirrels?” I asked.

“The age old question,” explained Tuppence. “Naps between squirrels, or squirrels between naps?  Buddhist Beagles even wonder if there is any meaning to the order.”

“Sheesh,” I said. “Beagle Zen?  Really?”

The dogs looked at each other for a long time.  Doing that telepathy thing they do.  Then, as Tommy led off toward the couch, Tuppy said, “We’re gonna sleep on this a bit.  We’ll get back to you.”

They went to nap.  I went to the kitchen for coffee.