Report to the Agency: That Time of Year.

Riding out the holidays

December 17/2009
Report to The Agency:
The weather has changed dramatically over the past few weeks from pleasant and warm to beastly cold. The frost is making it increasingly difficult for agents everywhere to follow tracks and collect clues and messages. Poor beagle agent C1, who is still fairly new to all this, is still trying to pick up every message she comes across, not realizing that the cold destroys much of the content before we can get to it. C1 is working very hard to do her work, indeed there are times when I wonder if she is not trying a little too hard - she has her nose to the ground so much I sometimes forget what the lower half of her face looks like.
Our humans and their friends are getting ready for one of their many seasonal celebrations. While agents everywhere are curled up on pillows or on that lovely, fluffy piece of furniture the humans call the Baddog Geddown and sleeping as much as possible, preferably close to fireplaces or other forms of heat, our humans are rushing about in the freezing cold, buying presents for each other and having dinners and meeting other humans for drinks, usually on nights when it is especially cold and blustery, and all sane creatures are tucked away in their crates or on their favourite blankets.
There are very few things beagle agents and cats agree on, but we do agree that at this time of year the lack of warmth and sunshine cause humans to lose their minds.
One of the cats who lives here with us is called Leaveit! and he tells us that for as long as he has been with these humans - some 12 years or more now - they have had this seasonal disorder that drives them out of doors to flock to malls like migrating trumpet swans to spend money like it grew on trees to buy toys for each other - all of which are called DROPPIT! Then they eat like sled dogs and curl up in front of their moving picture windows and snore like English bulldogs - it’s all terribly unseemly.
But I have been promised by Leaveit! That soon the days will get longer and the humans will grow normal again and then the world will restore the proper order of things where beagle agents can once more pick up messages and leave them in dignified peace and quiet.
Oh, and I also learned that the best way to deal with humans at this time of year is to wish them happy holidays. So happy holidays everybody!
As ever,
Agent M3

Report to the Agency: C1 promoted.

Agents at rest.

I must apologize for not having sent a report in a while. Mentoring C1, the new agent my humans brought into the pack a couple of months ago has been a full-time job, and more than a little exhausting. In spite of us being about the same age, C1 is far more energetic and protective of the pack that I am. I like sleeping in in mornings and then having a leisurely coffee and kibble on the porch, while she likes to get up early to exercise the cats and then inspect the perimeter – several times, and announce very clearly everything she sees out the window – or thinks she sees.
In spite of our different approaches to the start of the day, we are getting along very well, and she has learned the ropes admirably. She is not given to watching television very much, although she does have a weakness for re-runs of a show starring a dog named Wishbone.
We have both learned a lot about the art of getting along with other people who share a relatively small living space. Both C1 and I can be a little to defensive of our foods and the bone treats we sometimes get from our humans. I have tried to suggest to our humans that if we had more of these delicious, meat-coated bone treats, we would not fight over what we have, but they don’t seem to agree. We have also learned the benefit of sharing the same blanket on a cold night. Although agents don’t snuggle, of course, we do sometimes huddle when there is a need to keep warm.
So in order to reward the remarkable advancements C1 has made, and to recognize her for her efficiency and sometimes rather noisy devotion to duty, it’s my pleasure to promote C1 to Beagle Scout First Class.
Congratulation Agent Beagle Scout C1.
As always,
Agent M3
Agent C1 at the end of an exhausting day exercising the cats.

Report to the Agency: M3 introduces C1

M3 introduces C1

First off I must apologize for the long gap between reports. I am only now able to tell you that I was on assignment for most of the summer, seeking out and recruiting a new member for The Agency. The work of keeping an eye on my humans and on their neighbourhood was proving too much for me, what with having to pick up and decipher all those messages from other agents, and collecting as much information as possible for my reports. Eventually, The Agency send me a message through the boxer next door that I had been given the go-head to bring on a new agent on a probationary trial.
The biggest challenge, of course, was trying to think of some way to convince my humans that there should be another agent in the house. They were already feeling they had their hands full with one agent. So by cleverly using my other contacts in another part of the city, I had various cadet agents place their pictures and profiles on Kijiji, where, as I knew would eventually happen, my female human saw the picture of the agent I had in mind, and found her “cute”.
I was sure my plan would come off as I had laid out because the agent I wanted was another beagle, and we know how my humans feel about cute beagles.
So it’s my pleasure to introduce you to C1 – or “probie” – who will be learning the ropes from me and the other agents in the area (her file is already on record, I believe). C1 is enthusiastic, energetic and determined, but is also a little too easily distracted, and tends to have trouble focusing on more than one thing at a time. But I remember those months when I was a new agent and just starting out, and I will work hard to bring C1 up to sniff in no time.
As always,
M3

C1 checks out the view

Report to the Agency: M3 gets to the bottom of things.

Report to the Agency: M3 gets to the bottom of things.

As your agent sent to report on the activities of humans, I have to tell you that I am amazed at how wasteful they can sometimes be. Take peanut-butter jars, for instance. All agents know that peanut butter is to dogs what rocky road ice cream is to humans – an amazing natural resource not to be wasted. And yet, just the other day, my humans were ready to wash and recycle a plastic jar that still have several teaspoons of peanut butter left in it!!
Needless to say, your humble agent was on the job immediately, snatching the jar off the kitchen counter and then setting about properly cleaning it out. Once I was finished with it, there really was no need to wash it because no amount of soap and water could have made it any cleaner than what I had accomplished.
It occurs to me that there is butter on wrappings, small bits of stale cheese, left over scrambled eggs, and all sorts of other delicacies – morsels of steak, crusts of bread – that are also going to waste right under my snout.
I can see that I will have to be even more vigilant than usual in the kitchen.
As always,
Yours,
Agent M3.

M3 goes to Camp

A couple of weeks ago my owners went on vacation, and while they were away they sent me to summer camp.

I have not been to camp since I was a Beagle Scout, but I loved it then and I love it now. The best part of being at summer camp is, well, the chance to do stuff - all sorts of stuff. From first thing in the morning until bedtime, the camp counsellors kept us busy with games, sports, food, hikes, swimming lessons and arts and crafts. Well, in all honesty I didn't do the swimming classes. I am a little nervous about being in water where I can't touch the bottom, so I got to practice catching balls instead while the other dogs went swimming. It was kind of nice because I'm getting pretty good at catching the balls - although I don't understand why I'm supposed to bring them back because when I do the humans just throw them again.

Swimming, on the other hand, has always been a bit of a problem for me, ever since I was in training at the Agency. All agents are supposed to be excellent swimmers, but for some reason I swim like a rock. Even as a puppy when I had some extra puppy fat, I couldn't stay afloat in a bath tub, much less a lake or a river. But as these things often go, it turned out I was really good at picking up and decoding secret messages on the trot, so I was allowed to stay on at the Agency and complete my training to be come a bone-carrying secret puppy agent.

I was at camp for a week and I had a great time - I highly recommend it to all puppies, whether they are secret agents or not. When my owners came to pick me up I was hot, dusty, tired and had four sore paws, and my collar was in tatters, but I had one of the biggest grins on my face I have ever had - I can't wait until next year.

Report to The Agency: M3 on Higher Education.

Report to The Agency: M3 on Higher Education

It was a proud moment for me - one of the proudest in my life. A few days ago I received my graduation diploma! After many weeks, and a considerable financial investment on the part of my adopted humans, I am happy to say that I marched along with three other agents at the front of all our humans to receive our Diploma of Obedience from the headmaster of the Puppy Agent Training Academy and Boarding Kennels (PATABK).
There had been moments when I was not so sure I was going to be allowed to take part in the graduation ceremony. My seven successful escapes, for instance - four of them from the humorously named "invisible Fence" - did cast a little doubt on my willingness to obey my people when they called me, but by being on my very best behaviour and hardly nipping at the legs of my male human during the final exam, I managed to convince the headmaster that I at least had the basics down.
Then, to put the gravy on the ice cream, as it were, I went back this week to be tested for the "Good Neighbour Dog" certificate and passed that too!!! My owners were so impressed they laughed uproariously with pleasure and happiness. So now I will be getting a certificate for that.
After my fabulous undergraduate career I have decided to pursue post-graduate studies at the PATABK school, so after a brief holiday at the Doggy Country Spa and Inn where I will see if I can jump a six foot fence, I will be entering the Fetch and Jump Program which will conclude at the end of the summer.
I know I can jump... especially invisible fences. I wonder what "fetch" means...

As always, Agent M3.

M3 and the limits of Freedom.

That's me... over there... beyond the fence...

Report to the agency: M3 and the limits of Freedom

Sometimes my humans are just too cute. After my two latest successful escapes a couple of weeks ago, they have decided to install an “invisible” fence that is supposed to keep beagle agents such as myself from getting out of the yard.
Really? An INVISIBLE fence!? How much did you pay for that? Did it come with an “invisible” gate too? Or an “invisible” barn? How about a new suit of clothes for the emperor? What part of "invisible" don't they get?
To quote the great Hooker – Shakespeare’s dog – “What fools these humans be.” I thumb my nose at their “invisible” fence – well, I don’t perhaps “thumb” exactly, but I most certainly twitch my tail at it, and I wave my whiskers. Pffft! Since no actual fence has yet been built that will keep beagle agents from their appointed rounds, how could they possibly think that an invisible fence could do anything? It’s not even there, for dog’s sake.
Anyway, a very nice human male came in a truck and dug a small trench all around the perimeter after which he planted lots of pretty little flags along the trench, and assured my humans that they now have a fence that will keep me in.
I thought they would kick him off the property, but instead they gave him an amazing amount of money, in spite of my barking a warning that THERE WAS NOTHING THERE!
Mind you, I did get a very nice new collar out of the deal, so not an entire loss, but if you ask me, my humans were taken in by a not very clever scam.
I can hardly wait for the time they let me out into the back yard and tell me to stay inside the “fence” and then pretend to close a “gate.”
My next report will be filed from Jakarta.
As always
Yours
M3

Report to the Agency: M3 unleashed.

Report to the Agency: M3 unleashed.
My humans, lovely and caring creatures though they are, are under the mistaken impression that they need to be in control of me at all times, which is why they walk me on a leash, buckle me into the car, and tie me to a post outside the coffee shop, grocery store or bank when we go to the village.
What they don’t realize, of course, is that as a secret agent on a mission from the Agency, I must be free to leap into action at any second.
In order to maintain my readiness to spring alertly to my feet and dash off on a job, I do, unfortunately, often have to gnaw my way through whatever restraints my humans use.
Yesterday I did make a tiny error in my gnawing. Instead of merely severing a leash or other small restraining strap, I managed to chew nearly clean through my female human’s car seat belt. Seat belts are made of tougher material than I had thought. So far only my expensive leather strap has proved too resilient for me to cut through in a few minutes, but only because one of my humans – the male – asked me if I had lost my mind and would I mind stopping immediately.
The seat belt was, I admit, a mistake. My only excuse is that it was late, I was a little tired, and perhaps a little distracted by my concern for the safety of my humans who had left me in the car for a few minutes while they went into a store. At any rate, while I had meant to slice through my own seat restraint, I managed to saw almost clean through my human’s restraint.
As you can imagine, when my humans saw my handiwork, they were so impressed they were practically speechless, holding the belt in their hands and asking each other to “Have a look at this! How on Earth did she manage to do that?”
It’s good to know I can still impress them, although they really need to learn to smile more.
All in all, a job well done: at least I know I can do it if need be.
Keeping my teeth and wits sharp, I remain
Yours,
M3.

Report to The Agency: The Enemy Stinks.

M3 meets the enemy – and he stinks

I guess I should have seen it coming. It was such a rookie mistake, and in this business, if you make a mistake, you pay for it. It stinks, but that's the way it is.
It was just another early morning on assignment. I had just returned from taking my human for a walk around the block, enjoying the fresh air and watching the dawn break gracefully in the eastern sky. Perhaps it was the slightly warmer air, maybe the faint scent of spring, I'll never know, but my usually finely honed secret agent powers were lulled into an uncharacteristic relaxed attitude - which would cost me dearly.
When we arrived back at HQ, I went out to do my daily patrol of the perimeter, when I suddenly spotted a strange cat in the driveway. I am, of course, familiar with all the cats and dogs in the neighbourhood, so when I failed to recognize this one, I went to investigate and have a look at its credentials.
That's when things went horribly wrong. At the very last second, before everything turned to slow motion and I blacked out... I saw that the cat had a white stripe down it's back, and that is was slowly turning it's back end to me. I saw the moist droplets in the clear morning air, and I felt them hit my fur like tiny needles burning my skin as they landed.I tried to stop. I tried to duck, roll and run for cover, but it was too little, too late. The full shot hit me squarely in the face. I had been skunked!
The horror! The horror!
That most wicked agent of C.O.N.T.R.O.L. Agent Skunk, had out foxed me - or out skunked - me.
The next few hours are a blur of yelling, of being carried, of people cursing, water running... I remember trying to rub the stink off on all the furniture in my humans' house, but to no avail. I was washed, perfumed, dried, perfumed again, washed again until I collapsed exhausted on my bed and fell into a deep and restless slumber filled with nightmare visions of giant skunks pointing at me and laughing through green clouds of stink.
It is now days later - I'm fine, and able to carry on my regular duties again, but my humans... well, it will take me weeks to air them out enough for them to stop smelling - and the furniture - well, you'd think they would clean the place up a little better once in a while.
But the next time I meet Agent Skunk, I will be ready with my can of Skunk Away in my backpack. He will not catch me by surprise again.
Yours,
M3

Report to The agency: M3 picks up.

Report to The agency: M3 picks up.

I’m sorry I have not sent in a report in a while. I’ve been having a very difficult time of trying to decipher messages from The Agency because I have been getting what I thought were conflicting messages – some new, some old, some related to my assignment, and some apparently completely unrelated to anything.

Today I finally figured out what it was. As you know, messages are sent to me in a variety of ways. Some come from The Guardian, others – and the most regular ones – are the ones that I pick up from the ground when I take my humans for a walk. Some of the messages are hidden under bushes, others near rocks, trees or by mailboxes or fire hydrants. In order for me to understand what my assignment for the week is, it’s terribly important that I pick the messages up, take them home, and then sort them into the right order.

Unfortunately, the humans – not mine, of course, but others – have a strange and annoying habit of leaving bits of paper and coffee cups and other trash all over the place. Since many of these smell a lot like the messages I get from The Agency, I pick up as many as I can and bring them home to sort them out, and that’s where the confusion comes! Instead of getting something like “Be sure to check if The Guarding is watching the children at the school crossing.” I get “Horton’s Snickers Maltesers at Domino’s Pizza in a Starbucks cup.” What am I to make of that?

Please help. We need to get the message out to the humans to stop littering – it makes the work of secret beagle agents very difficult!

As always, I remain,

M3

Report to the Agency: M3 and The Guardian.

Report to the Agency: M3 and The Guardian.

As you know, many agents from The Agency are dogs, but, of course, there are agents from all species. For the past few weeks my female human has, without knowing it, been taking me to one of the most important agents in my neighbourhood: the Guardian.
The Guardian is an essential element in every agent’s life and success. Not only is he in a position to keep an eye on the goings on in the neighbourhood, but he is also essential for the collection and distribution of messages.
Many people see the Guardian every day, but don’t really notice him – in this case, he’s the local school crossing guard – I’ll call him Frankie.
Almost every day I get to spend a few minutes with the Guardian. My human crosses the street to where he stands and looks after the kids on their way to or from school for lunch. Of course, he makes a big fuss over me every day about how cute and smart I am – which is, of course, basically true, it’s part of my clever disguise. Then he asks if it’s all right to give me a treat, my human says yes, of course, and then he slips me what looks like a bacon flavoured bone-shaped cookie.
It’s not easy, but while pretending to enthusiastically chew the delicious treat, I am, in reality, using my specially trained and hyper-sensitive tongue to read the message that has been carved into the cookie – into the scrumptious bacon cookie.
The problem is that the cookie tends to crumble a little, and no matter how careful I am, because I’m trained to control my instinct to just chew and swallow anything as delightful as a bacon cookie - some part of the message is often lost. I have, for instance, read that I should “immediately proc... to the corn.. or ...ton and Queen.” Or “When can you ...ive with ...r human to ...mas?”
So my request to The Agency is: could you please send me duplicate – or even triplicate – messages, on those luscious cookies handed out by the Guardian?
As ever,
Yours,
M3

M3 goes to the dogs.

Report to The Agency: M3 goes to the dogs.

I have noticed that humans have a great many expressions that involve dogs, and not all of them are complimentary. “Gone to the dogs,” for instance, means to be a completely lost cause; to be “in the dog house” means to be in serious trouble, and “a dog’s breakfast” refers to something that’s truly awful to look at.
What the humans don’t realize is that we canines have a rich and delightful repertoire of expressions involving the peculiarities of humans and their odd quirks.
Being “lost like a human,” for instance, is what we say of a hopelessly confused dog. “Tracking like a human” means that a dog really doesn’t want to - or can't - find whatever it's looking for. If a dog seems to be in a particularly bad mood, another dog might ask, "Human step on your paw?" or "Did you have your collar tightened?" If a puppy is really acting up a parent might tell it to "stop acting like a baby," or say of it: "that puppy's clumsy as a toddler."
Humans are also, as you know, notoriously difficult to train. I have tried for days to get my humans to understand that when they give me a Dentabone to chew, for instance, I would like to take it outside and bury it, even if there are four feet of snow in the back yard. I take the bone and I walk to the back door, and look over my shoulder at my humans to get them to come and open the door and let me out.... but nothing. I pick the bone up and take it to them - get their eye contact, and walk to the back door again. Still nothing. Sometimes I find them so exasperating that I can't help but whine! When humans are that slow to pick up on a hint, we will often comment that the "if a human got a meal for every trick he learned, he would starve to death in a week."
And fighting - dogs don't like to fight and will avoid it whenever it can. Dogs know that they can - likely will - get hurt in a fight, and being hurt is no fun at all, so they go to great lengths to avoid arguments and fighting. Sure, they'll bark and posture and jump around and shove and nip at each other. But really fight? Not if we can help it. People, on the other and, seem unable to imagine what it's like being hurt in a fight, and so will fight each other at the drop of a bone. It's odd that in spite of this fact, the humans have a saying that it's a "dog eat dog world." Dog's have a saying that "a dog who tries to break up a human fight will be hurt the most."
But by and large people mean well, and they try their best to to get along with each other, although they are not always successful. They are, however, almost unfailingly kind to dogs, which is why we say: "pick your humans carefully, and you will never be hungry again. You may be made to look a little silly now and again - see picture to the right, for instance - but the food will be good"
Words to live by, I say.
Yours,
M3

(If he puts a hat on me, I'm

putting in for re-assignment).

Report to the Agency: M3 and the three dog nights.

Trying to warm up my one-dog

nose on a three-dog night

Report to the Agency: M3 and the three dog nights.
I am well aware my assignment here requires a good deal of work in the out-o- doors, seeking and sniffing out messages, assessing my surroundings and reporting any findings to the Agency, but the recent extreme cold weather has made this task a bit more difficult than usual. You see, my humans have decided to shorten my walks because they are afraid my paws will get ice in between my toes, that the salted sidewalks will hurt my paw pads and the bitter wind-chill will cause frostbite on my cold, wet nose (which they seem to like to grab to catch my attention... and I have to admit it works).
During the day it’s about -20 or colder with the wind chill factor (-4F for the older or American canines receiving this report) and at night it’s much, much colder. I can’t help but think back to my posting in Havana... Ah... how wonderful the Cuba Libre chews were.
Anyway, with this extreme weather they even took me to a store and tried to fit me with “doggy mukluks.” They first got the idea when they saw the Boxer next door wearing little blue “booties.” I knew I could never let them fit my paws into boots - how am I supposed to pick things up, dial the phone or work my Dogberry with boots on!? I managed to get out of having to wear the silly things by making my paws go limp when my female human tried to put it on my paws. She struggled a bit and then gave up, saying, “Fine. We’ll buy the $9 paw cream instead of the $75 Harley Davidson Mukluks and just shorten the walks and keep a close eye on her. It’s just too cold outside...” She is becoming very fond of me, I think.
I have noticed, by the way, that it takes both humans longer to get ready for the walks now than a few weeks ago. They bundle up by putting on sweaters on top of shirts on top of t-shirts, and then add a thin coat and finally a thick fluffy parka. They also have boots for their hind legs (like very big mukluks for dogs), and gloves for their front paws. Each human also has at least three hats and sometimes wear them in combination with each other – ear flaps down to protect their ears, headbands to protect their forehead, and muffs and scarves for their necks. If they’d only grow a fur coat – even a short-hair one like mine, they’d feel much better and feel far less of the chill.
They talk about the weather all day long. If they aren’t talking about it, they’re listening to it on the television, the radio, or looking at it on the Internet. Some humans have referred to the cold weather as being a three, four or five dog night, meaning that this is how many dogs they would need to curl up with to keep warm. Little do they know that among dogs, the saying is “a two humans and a duck down duvet night...”
As always,
M3

Report to The Agency: M3 and the Hungarian Mop.

Report to The Agency: M3 and the Hungarian Mop.

I was flipping through the Internet the other night while my humans were asleep (wondering why the keys on the keyboard have to be so darn close together), when I suddenly came across this picture. Although she is wearing a disguise and is posing as a contestant in a in a competition of some kind, I am certain I recognize Dolores, the famous Hungarian Mop!
(AP Photo/Frank Augstein)



For many years the Hungarian Mop was the best at soaking up messages and pieces of information left by unsuspecting agents in city parks and along public beaches. When she sat down and held very still, people used to pass her by thinking she was nothing more than an old mop someone has thrown away, or sometimes they saw her a some kind of strange bush. She was able to hide and avoid detection by simply holding still! It was pure genius.

Dolores the Hungarian Mop prowled the glorious parks of Paris and the historic ruins of Rome. She sailed the Seine and danced by the Danube. Dolores deceived the Danes, scared the Scots and angered the Afghans – she was an amazing agent and she was admired and feared by many. If someone whispered a secret beneath a cafe table in Frankfurt, Dolores would sweep by and pick it up, looking like just another average street cleaner. If agents were exchanging information of national security on a dusty street in Morocco, they would not notice a ball of yarn rolling by, but their information would be common knowledge within hours. A tumbleweed drifting past the Crawford Ranch in Texas would not catch anyone’s attention, and no-one would notice the gleam of alert eyes or the point of the small ears that were tuned to every piece of news that was exchanged over a barbequed steak and bottle of Presidential pop.

Oh she was very clever, was Dolores, the notorious Hungarian Mop. But one day, while looking like a pile of discarded rags sitting next to the Trevi Fountain in Rome where two secret agent dogs were whispering conspiratorially to each other, a gust of wind caused her to topple over into the water, and when she emerged, dripping wet, she was revealed to be just another long haired Mexican Chihuahua with hair extensions.

After that The Hungarian Mop vanished from the scene... until now, that is. I am on to her little game, and will be very careful of floor mops, piles of rags and tumbling tumbleweeds.
Yours as always,
M3

Picture taken of the Hungarian Mop,

seconds before she fell into the Trevi

Fountain. can you spot her? That's her

just to the left of centre - or at least I

think it is.

Report to The Agency: M3 home on the range

Report to The Agency: M3 home on the range
Winter in this part of the world is pretty intense at times, especially for us short-hairs. The cold and snow are nothing, of course, compared to my posting Varttasaari, Finland. It got so cold there the winter I was there the dogs were getting stuck to the fire hydrants – it was terrible.
Still, the cold and snow here has been pretty impressive so far, so I was a little unsure how to convince my adopted humans to take be to the off-leash park the Great Tzu had told me about. But as luck would have it, I managed to get a message to a dog that lives with some friends of my humans, and eventually the idea was planted that I should go to the park as well.
As it turns out, the park is really quite pleasant. There’s a lot of open space, and a wooded area, and there is a fence around the entire perimeter, presumably to keep out cats and humans who don’t like dogs. Everything is covered in snow, of course, and with the fallen logs and thick brush it reminds me for all the world of the puppy wilderness survival training park at The Agency.
Best of all, of course, is the number of dogs who come here to exercise and engage in interesting conversations about their humans who stand around in small groups, clutching mugs of tea, coffee or hot chocolate and try to keep warm in spite of having so little fur.
There are so many different kinds of dogs who come to the park. From huge, lumbering Great Danes and Bouviers, to tiny little Chihuahuas and Russian Afghan Hounds who speak in snooty accents. A few of these dogs are with The Agency and signalled me when I gave the secret paw gesture.
I enjoy being able to run at full speed through the park, jumping over logs – and other dogs – and rolling around in the snow. A few of the other dogs – a couple of German Shepherds and Dobermans - have tried to keep up with me, but I have the excellent training of The Agency to my advantage, and I can run like an English Foxhound when given the space, and out-manoeuvre the others like a Canadian hockey player. The only dogs who have been able to catch me have been a very large Alaskan Malamute, and a dog of such mixed breed that he looks more like an Australian Dingo than anything else; both dogs are, of course, agents.
The park will be a perfect place to leave small messages.
As always
M3

Report to The Agency: M3 gets a lesson from Lily Tzu

Report to The Agency: M3 gets a lesson from Lily Tzu

I mentioned in my last report that I met Agent Lily Tzu, or The Great Lily Tzu, as she is apparently known around The Agency. The Great Tzu, I was surprised to learn, is a Dog Chi Master, and a fourth degree Dog Fu Black Collar, having practiced those ancient arts since she was just little fur ball.
“Why would it surprise you that I am a master at Dog Chi and Dog Fu?” she asked when I went to pay my respects the other day.
You have to understand that The Great Tzu is about as big as a football, and that even with all her fur she looks more than a little like a hairy footstool with legs.
“Um,” I said, not wanting to be rude or hurt her feelings, “well, it’s just that... er... well, it would be hard to compete with, say Great Danes or Burmese Mountain Dogs, wouldn’t it?
The Great Tzu made a snorting sound and squinted her eyes at me. “Bite a Great Dane on the toe, or a Burmese on the snout, and they cry like puppies,” she said. “Victory in a struggle rarely goes to the biggest and strongest, but more often to the fastest and most agile. Remember that next time you’re at the Off-leash dog park, little Scratcher.”
I tilted my head quizzically. Dog park? I had never heard of such a thing. She chuckled softly. Have your humans take you there next time you go out. You will learn much.”
According to my research on the Internet, off-leash parks are large fenced-in places where dogs are allowed to run free and engage in whatever activities they like! Sounds wonderful! All I need now is figure out some way to get my humans to take me.
Until next time,
Yours
M3

Report to the Agency: M3 meets Lily Tzu.

Report to the Agency: M3 meets Lily Tzu.
A note was slipped to me in a dog biscuit by a charming lady we met while I was walking my humans. The lady was coming out of a bank, and stopped to make a fuss over me and pet me. Fortunately my humans did not think it odd that she would be carrying dog biscuits and yet not be walking a dog.
I tucked the biscuit away in the cheek of my mouth, and waited until we got home to spit it out and decipher what had been scratched on it. All it said was. “Lily Tzu.”
I didn’t know what to make of the message. Was it the name of the biscuit maker company? Was it something that needed to be translated? Was it somebody’s name? I decided to chew on the problem for a while.
In the end I decided to take the puzzle to James Hound, Agent K9, down the street. As usual I found him on his front porch, this time reading a copy of Backyard Association of Retired K9s (BARK) magazine. I asked him what he thought “Lily Tzu” meant, and what he thought I should do next.
He looked at me for a long time with a rather pitying look before turning his head toward the house and calling out. “Hey Lily! Some kid to see you!” Then he snorted impatiently and turned the page of the magazine, muttering something about amateurs.
The door behind him opened and a diminutive Pekinese stepped silently out on the porch. “Yes?” she said. “I’m Lily Tzu. How may I be of service?”
I looked with amazement at the tiny creature. Lily Tzu Looked more like a long-haired footstool than a dog, and was certainly not the kind of dog I would have expected James Hound to live with.
I explained about the lady at the bank and the biscuit, and confessed I was at a complete loss to explain why Lily’s name would be on a biscuit that was given to me by a complete stranger.
“Ah,” she said with a soft smile – at least I think it was a smile; it was hard to tell through all that hair - “I have been expecting you, young scratcher.”
I sat down on the step of the porch and waited – I was obviously about to learn something interesting.
Yours
M3.

The Great Lily Tzu

Report to the Agency: M3 and the Herding Instinct.

Report to the Agency: M3 and the Herding Instinct.

This report is addressed in part to Big Wag herself.

Dear Big Wag,

As much as I am enjoying my present assignment, I have run into an unexpected challenge: my pack has a very poor understanding of what it means to be a pack. At the Agency Puppy Academy we learned how important it is for the pack to stick together at all times. No matter what happened, it was important that all the members of the pack unit kept together to help each other out, or even just to keep one another company.

But this pack apparently knows very little about the importance of staying together. There are two cats and two humans in my pack, and teaching them all to stay together is like herding birds. One cat refuses to come out of the basement; the other comes and goes as he pleases, ignoring my every effort to organize his day in such a way as to take full advantage of the benefits of being in the pack.

And my humans! I hardly know where to begin! They take off at any point during the day without so much as filing a travel report or notice of absenteeism! Sometimes they leave together, sometimes separately. Sometimes one stays home, and other times the one comes home without having called me first, and then the other leaves without barely a goodbye! It’s exasperating!

And don’t get me started on the incredible inconsistency of their daily routines. There appears to be absolutely no advance planning whatsoever in their willy-nilly approach to regulating their lives. They eat at odd hours, clean the den whenever the mood strikes them, change furniture on a whim, and stop suddenly to sit down to read a book or write on their computers; how they have managed to survive all those years without me is a miracle.

I try my best, Big Wag, to teach them about the importance of family and the need to stay together and to communicate frequently about every new smell encountered and every possible new danger discerned. Because it’s my duty, I will try to keep teaching them how important family is. As the Puppy Academy constantly taught us, the pack digs the den under the snow; the pack keeps everybody warm; the pack finds and shares food, and the pack helps look after the sick and injured.

Why is that so hard for the humans to learn?

Yours,
In exasperation,
M3