Beau, Dawg of Mystery

We could soon solve the mystery of Beau.

Beau is a rescue hound. He came into our lives six years ago, when we picked him up from a rescue group. Maybe we should’ve named him Vlad, since he came from Transylvania County. But “Beau” does suit him well. We tend to call him Beau-Beau, and as I say it now his freakishly long tail just starts thwapping against the floor.

We have no idea what kind of dog Beau is. He is … well simply put an American dog. Not too long ago, we took Beau and our Yorkie Ivy to Savannah. I totally expected people to stop and ooh and ahh over the cuteness of Ivy. But instead people stopped and asked me about Beau.

“What kind of dog is he?” is the usual question. And frankly, I don’t have a good answer. I usually say: “he’s a mutt,” “a mixed breed” or “just unique.”

Beau’s vet told me once that he’s some sort of terrier probably Jack Russell mixed with something “very hairy.” Heather, the vet, also calls Beau a “terrorist,” cause frankly, he can be a bit cranky. She once called him “a land shark” as he barked and snapped at her aides. More than once, the vet's aides have confidently told me, “Oh we can handle him, he’s not that big.” Only to have them, five minutes later appear and sheepishly ask, “Mr. Leonard, could you help us back here?”

Beau really is a good dog. He can be a sweet puppy and loves certain people. He totally loses bladder control when people, whom he likes, visit, and he has peed on them just from pure glee. Some have been lucky to have only their feet irrigated, while others haven’t been so fortunate.

Beau is an inside dog who loves his creature comforts, and prolonged stays in the outdoors appall him. We have taken him camping, and Beau’s reaction is: “Seriously, you really expect me to stay out here with no couch or arm chairs, what are we barbarians?”

So he usually ends up hanging in the car, lounging in the back seat and barking frantically at every bicycle and golf cart that happens by.

 

He’s a barker for sure, and the UPS truck can send him into hysterics. He's become pretty sedentary as he ages but still will run to the window and bark whenever I say: “Hey Beau, a rabbit" or "the president is outside.” He certainly knows what a rabbit is and goes ballistic when he sees one out the window.

I’m not so sure that he would recognize the president, but as often as Obama visits Asheville, Beau’s always ready for him. All this means is that Beau is one unique hound, and I finally broke down and ordered a doggie DNA test to find out just how unique.