I seem to have an identity crisis. No matter where I go people look at me and say “Wow she’s a big beagle”. For the record, in case anyone is confused, I am not a beagle. Frankly, I don’t think I look anything like a beagle. I’m tall and thin – beagles are short and fat. I have charming, sophisticated good looks – not unlike my even taller ancestor the English Foxhound. Did you know that George Washington was one of the first to own Foxhounds in America? Foxhounds were the gentleman’s breed. The hunter’s breed. I an an ancestor of those dogs. Can you imagine a runt beagle posing next to Washington? Or running along with George in a great fox hunt?? No, of course not.
I’m an all American dog – bred from regal bloodlines here in the USA! (Beagles are originally from Great Britain) Most people in New England, unlike folks from Virginia, have never seen a foxhound, so that possibly explains why they wouldn’t notice my striking resemblance to my ancestor. But beagle? It’s insulting!
Yes, I have a nose for finding things – but I’m not Snoopy. I’m not some cartoon dog. I’m a real dog. I have real needs! What would I do without my sofa? Or without the snacks left on my pillow at night? Cartoon dogs don’t need those things. They don’t need to cuddle with their person. When was the last time you saw Snoopy cuddle with Charlie Brown?? If I remember correctly Snoopy was always in that doghouse. But that’s a beagle for you – always in trouble – always howling about something!
I’m a proud Treeing Walker Coonhound bred to hunt – bred to be brave, fearless and tireless! (In full disclosure squeaker toys scare me and I am partial to soft bedding – but everyone has their Achilles heel and I’m no different). I just wish people could see me for the wonderful breed that I am. I am the un-beagle. I am a Walker!