Millie the dog

Our dog is not adorable. She looks sweet enough, but she is simply not one of those wonderful, trustworthy, loyal family hounds. Not in the least. She is snarky, she is greedy, and she snores like a truck. Yet somehow this annoying beagle has insinuated herself into our hearts. I can't explain why I love her, but I indisputably do.

It's not as if Millie tries to be endearing. Far from it. I can think of countless ways she unhinges me.

When no-one is paying attention, Millie sidles into the house and fossicks through the bedroom and bathroom bins. She sneaks away with tissues, and drags them out to the lawn for chewing. When our children were small, Millie would steal nappies and do unspeakable things to them. She once ate a whole packet of my birth control pills, the morning I was leaving on an overseas trip. One Easter, Millie found Laura's Easter eggs and ate the lot. This dog is a stomach on legs.

When we have guests over, and we escort them to the door as they leave, Millie quietly gets up on the table to eat the leftovers. She doesn't give a hoot if she gets caught. We can yell, smack her, lock her out, ignore her for hours or all of the above, but Millie doesn't mind. She is undeterred. She does the very same thing at her next opportunity.

Then Millie has some other quirky (read idiotic) habits. If we have visitors over and decide to lock Millie outside, she gets very upset. She whines and whimpers. She stations herself on the back deck, right outside the dining room, and periodically leaps up in the air so she can glimpse everyone inside. Our guests are treated to the sight of a beagle head, ears flying, appearing at the window at intervals.

I haven't ever owned another dog (or cat, or bird), but from talking to experienced pet-owners, it seems animals each have quite distinct personalities. Millie is no exception. She is gluttonous, obstinate, sneaky and grumpy. And yet, she also waits for me on the front deck when I go out - even when Fatty and the kids are home, and she could be lying inside in the warmth. She leans against me as I pat her soft caramel head. She waits, without sound, at the back door each morning, until we finally notice her sitting there. Sometimes it is an hour before we register her presence, yet Millie sits motionless, silent, as if she is The World's Best Dog.

The sweetest habit of Millie's is one I cannot explain. I have no idea what leads her to do this, but she does it every night.

Last thing at night I open the back door, and tell Millie to go outside. She obeys, albeit with a mournful sideways glance. Then she heads for her kennel on the back deck, and settles in as if she were sleeping there all night. But as soon as I walk down the hall to bed, Millie makes her way under the front of our house and sleeps on some old shelving directly under me. The lying down in the kennel is all a charade! Millie has never slept a single night there (I know this, in case you're wondering, because I have to endure Millie's nocturnal snoring, echoing up through the floorboards!). And yet each evening, as if trying to appease us, she pretends she is snuggling up in her doghouse for the night. And then instead of sleeping in her kennel, or on her dog bed under the house, Millie lies much less comfortably, for the sake of being nearer.

No matter how irritating, a dog always loves. And that, I suspect, is why we forgive them almost anything; why they worm their doggy way into our deepest affections.

Millie the weird, naughty beagle ...... we love you, nose to tail.