Millie Beagle: On her Majesty's Service

2011-09-06T09:53:00.000-04:00

Report to the Agency:

I recently heard from my uncle Duke who is a former navy dog currently retired to a very charming farm in Louisiana. He has been reading some of my messages to The Agency, and he wanted to point out that my family background is more catahoula hound than beagle. I must confess that it came as a surprise to me that I had ANY catahoula hound in my genetic makeup at all! In fact, I had never heard of catahoula hounds until Duke mentioned it and sent along a couple of pictures. If, however, he is right – and I suspect he is – the catahoula part of me would certainly explain my extraordinary intelligence, good looks and modesty. To paraphrase what one of the web sites about catahoulas mentions, we are almost prescient in our ability to read people’s emotions, anticipate their intentions, and plan a decent menu. Also known as leopard hounds because of our attractive spots – of which I have depressingly few – catahoula hounds are extraordinary in their ability to climb trees in the hound for prey – and by “prey,” I assume they mean sweet potato French fries, one of my favourite food groups…

My Uncle Duke - Commander (hon. HMS Ret.)

Uncle Duke as a young pup. It's like
looking in a blotchy mirror...

Initially I was very concerned that I might suffer something of an identity crisis when hearing the news from Uncle Duke. Upon careful reflection, however, I realized that given the uncertain genetic background of all of us, knowing I am more beagle/catahoula than beagle/Aussie Shepard can only serve to help me enhance my already finely tuned tree-climbing, cat-tracking and human training abilities.

As always,

Faithfully yours,

M3.

2011-05-19T11:05:00.001-04:00

Report to the Agency:
I must apologize for the long absence in my reporting, but I am confident that you will understand my reasons once I explain. As you know better than most, the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middelton has been one of the most important events to come to the Royal Family in many years, and one of the top concerns of their Majesties, MI5, Scotland Yard and Interpol has been the security of all concerned. When I received the call a few months ago that my service were needed, and that my mission would be top secret until after the ceremony I was, of course, immediately ready to serve. The problem was simple enough: While Her Majesty the Queen and Prince Phillip and their extensive staff were at the ceremony at Westminster Abby, somebody had to guard the Royal Corgies. I confess that at first I was not thrilled by an assignment that initially appeared to be glorifies puppy-sitting, but once it was explained to me by the head of the K9 unit – also known as the Alsatian Guard, even though the force is largely made up of English bulldogs - that I and C1 would be exclusively responsible for the safety of Her Majesty's favourite dogs, I accepted the assignment proudly.
More about this later. And next time I will detail my attempt to stop Princess Beatrice from wearing as a hat - or "fascinator" what was actually intended to be a toy treat for the Royal Corgies.
Yours, as always.
Facinated,

M3

Report to The Agency: Myers-Beagle Doggynality Profiler ready.

2010-09-17T14:04:00.004-04:00

C1 studies for the Myers-Beagle test

Report to The Agency: Myers-Beagle Doggynality Profiler ready.

As requested in your communiqué of this past summer, C1 and I have been busy preparing the new Myers-Beagle Doggynality Profiler for new agents. As you point out, it is important that The Agency is able to asses that sort of dog it hires to become agents for Her Majesty’s Corgis – especially those absent-minded Cardigan Welsh who are forever getting stuck under HRH’s Landrover.
I am happy to be able to report that we have completed the final testing, and herewith deliver the instrument.
There are, as you know, four pairs of character traits in most agents: barking/cowering, sulking/wagging, sniffing/whining and begging/stealing. In order to conduct the test we set out 16 pairs of bowls with 16 different kinds of dog-food. Each candidate has to pick one or the other of each pair. The interactions of these selections with each dog allow us to see which selection is most favoured – or “dominant.” We can then use the comparison scale that will show if a dog is obedient, wilful, brave or scared, able to down-stay or likely to fidget, a treat-beggar or a sneak-thief, and so on, ending with a complete and accurate doggynality profile for the potential agent. For example, a dog who is obedient, scared, fidgety and a sneak-thief would be a OSFS. A dog who is wilfil, brave, downstay and treat-beggar would be a WBDT.
I am certain of the accuracy of the test because both C1 and I scored as OBDS which makes us obedient, brave, able to downstay and sneak-thieves, which, as you know, are the best possible traits to have in agents.
I will send you the complete testing material by the next mail.
As always
Faithfully yours.
M3

C1 finds the Myers-Beagle exhausting

Report to the Agency: Her Majesty’s visit, and Beagle preparedness.

2010-06-28T21:41:00.007-04:00

C1 searches for her toy squirrel

I am very pleased to be able to report that Her Royal Highness, The Queen, has arrived safely in Halifax, and has begun Her long awaited visit to our great nation. As secret agents on Her Majesty’s service it seems unlikely that C1 and I will be called upon to guard HRH’s corgis or sniff the Royal Suitcases. We are, or course, ready (Beagle Agent Motto: They Also Serve Who Sit and Pant), or at least I am; I’m not so sure about C1.
As the attached photos show, in spite of my best efforts to bring C1 along, she has a determined stubborn streak that continually gets in her way. Coupled with an insatiable curiosity and a complete disregard for caution, C1 is, in many ways, her own worst enemy. Not only that, but she is insubordinate, given to napping in the middle of day when it her turn to stand watch, and horribly forgetful – she would lose her tail if it weren’t attached.
In spite of all this, our humans dote on her as though she were a favourite child. Of course, they do that to me too, but... well... I’m me!
I’m not giving up, of course, not at all. A beagle never gives up, as Sir Winston said, or might have said, but I can only hope that if HRH calls upon us, it will be while C1 doesn’t have her head stuck in a jar.

As always.
Faithfully yours.

C1: Ever vigilant

The readiness is all

2010-06-24T22:37:00.003-04:00

M3 and C1 practice waiting

Is there anything more difficult for an agent than having to wait and watch without being able to act? We agents are, of course, specially trained in the art of patience, but sometimes that training can be difficult to obey. We are very careful about looking after our humans, and we do the best we can to exercise the cats Leaveit and Don’tyoudare! So when we let the humans or the cats out of the house on their own, we are, naturally, very concerned since none of them seem very bright when it comes to picking up a scent or finding their way back home.

So I’m sorry to have to report that we seem to have misplaced one of the humans. The male, not usually given to wandering about much on his own, appears to have gone AWOL. We are used to him being gone a day or maybe two at a time when he has to have meetings with other members of his extended pack, but this time he has been gone for nearly a week. The female does not, however, seem concerned. Indeed, there have been times during the last few days when she has seemed almost a little more relaxed than usual. However, the pack is not complete, and we will do our best to wait and watch and exercise the cats and walk the female human and not mess up the Downdammit furniture.

Yours, as always,
M3

Report to the Agency: The importance of disguise

2010-03-10T21:25:00.006-05:00

Spot the Hidden agent!

Agents have to be skilled at many things. One of the most important skills we can develop is the ability to hide well. Some agents wait in bushes until a car goes by and then run barking after the car. This is a very bad idea and is usually only done by agents who don’t have enough work to do. Others hide behind furniture until the family's wickedcat goes strolling by, and the agent leaps up barking, barking, barking, sending the cat up to the top of the book case, and causing human members of the family to spill their spaghetti and meat sauce all over their laps. This is also a bad idea, although some agents will admit that all the “baddogs!” and “geddows!” and threats of “No treats for you, you... you... fleabag!” are worth it to see the wickedcat stuck on the top shelf of the book case until a human helps it own and puts it outside.

The difficulty is knowing when you are completely hidden. Agents usually have long noses and long tails, and these can be very difficult indeed to get tucked out of the way. I am unhappy to have to report that I got my very sensitive agent tail caught in the car door one day when I was trying to hide under the back seat blanket, which resulted in much un-agently howling for a little, but also resulted in many yummy treats from my humans, and much cuddling. My tail was just fine in a few minutes, Still, one has to be careful.

There are many wickedcats in the neighbourhood who are remarkably good at hiding right out in the open, and I don’t know how they pull it off. They just sit very, very still on a porch step or railing when agent C1 and I go by, noses pressed to the ground in search of messages, while our humans chat away about the nice gardens.

Then, suddenly the wickedcats hiss or giggle or make some noise and, frankly, scare the kibble right out of us!

I grudgingly have to admit that they have hiding right out I the open down to a fine art.

While I am still learning the ins and outs of proper hiding, agent C1 is also having some trouble, as you can see from the accompanying photo.

Agent C1 hiding in a pot of dirt behind a shrub

My hope is that by the time spring comes we will have completed our training, and be ready to welcome the squirrels, raccoons and skunks back to the yard. By then I’m sure I’ll be able to hide completely behind the bird feeder.
Yours, as ever, safely hidden away.
Agent M3

Report to the Agency: Agent Down!

2010-02-10T19:21:00.011-05:00

Lesson one: Learn how to look pitiful.

I received word that I had to go to the veterinarian clinic to pick up some vitally important messages. My problem: how to get there. I spent most of yesterday trying to think of some way I could get my owners to take me to the vet, but as I am not scheduled for another regular check-up for several months, there was nothing left for me to do; I had to fake an illness.

I hated to trick my humans, but I had to collect the messages in a hurry. Of course, faking a serious injury was out of the question; agents are excellent at coming up with disguises and in general being sneaky, but faking a broken leg or bent tail is just out of the question – the humans make you wear casts and put your head in a lampshade for weeks, which is just about the most humiliating thing an agent can experience.

No, I decided to settle for the old non-specific, vague-but-perhaps-serious, stomach ailment.

So at six in the morning, I hop up on my humans’ bed and start the routine. First I walk in tight circles on their stomachs, panting and arching my back. Once they are fully awake, add a little drool for effect, but not too much because that’s just unpleasant. Look apologetic – show little ears and big eyes. If the humans still don’t think it’s serious, add a little whine now and again. But don’t vomit. I know that munching the leaves from one of the house plants will usually do the job, but it’s just too unpleasant, and the humans get all focused on the cleaning instead of on you.

Anyway, sure enough, an hour later they’re on their computers, rescheduling their day and checking vet hours. So far so good.

With my female human on her way to work in a cab, my male human – who, by the way, is much easier to fool than my female – is carrying me, in a blanket, to the pre-warmed car. I’m almost starting to feel guilty.

I am, however, almost discovered at the vets. The doctor, who has been in the business of looking after agents for many years, examines me carefully and can find nothing wrong with me. I whine and limp a little, and walk in circles and pant and drool, but nothing. He just gives me the old fisheye look and says “I think I’d better take some blood and give her a shot.”

WHAT! Wait a minute! What’s a shot ? Who’s gonna...? The next thing I know they’re injecting medicine into one end and drawing blood from my forelegs into syringes at the other. “There,” the vet says. “That should make her feel better.” As if!! Now I REALLY hurt!

But I collected my messages, and when we got home, my male human made me warm oatmeal and kibble and spoon-fed me in my warm crate until I fell asleep.

So all in all, a pretty successful day.

As always,
Agent M3

At the end of an exhausting day, Agent

M3 falls asleep, contemplating the message

at the bottom of a warm bowl of oatmeal.

Agents' night in

2010-01-31T09:38:00.002-05:00

M3 and C1 enjoy an "agents' night in"

Report to the agency: To everything there is a season.

The cold has really set in, making it difficult for agents to spend much time outside. The snow and ice are not so bad because the frost helps preserve messages from other agents, but the humans like to spread salt on the sidewalks, and when that gets in between the toes it can hurt. Fortunately, our humans are very good at digging it out and at thawing cold paws, but still, much as we like winter, agent C1 and I would not object if it were a degree or two warmer out there.
Still, as our humans like to say, it’s the cold of winter that makes us appreciate the warmth of summer, so when it gets really cold, we agents like to have an “agents' night in” once in a while. We go out, make our rounds through the neighbourhood to check for messages and to make sure everything is secure, and then we come in, have a little kibble with gravy and maybe a piece of yesterday’s chicken, and then settle down to watch old re-runs of “Wishbone” while we do our nails, gossip about the cats and nibble on Dentasticks.
As highly trained secret agents we know the importance of taking time out once in a while to relax and groom. Although we are, of course, constantly on duty and ever vigilant, we have also learned the importance of relaxing, letting our fur down a little, and restoring our energy. A secret agent girl’s night in after a cold winter’s day does the trick. As our Dog Chi Master, The Great Tzu, says, “Let your humans chase the cats now and then while you put your paws up; they will appreciate getting the exercise.”
Staying warm and well groomed,
As always.
Agent M3

Agent C1 reports to Agent M3

2010-01-05T13:37:00.005-05:00

Agent C1 reports to Agent M3

Report to the Agency: Patience bears all things

Being a mentor for new agents is not an easy job. There is so much new agents have to learn and so many silly mistakes they have to be allowed to make. In the case of C1, she is simply too… what shall I say?… eager to please, I guess would be the best way to put it, and I’m starting to feel a little exhausted by her constant yowling in my ear about every stray thought that comes into her head.
C1 is forever jumping up on our humans’ Baddog Geddown piece of furniture, for instance, to look out the baying window to see if there are any other agents passing by on the sidewalk. If she is not doing that, she is chasing the cat Leaveit! to see if she can sniff out any rumours about what the Feline Empire is up to. Then C1 feels she has to report EVERYTHING to me! I think I’m starting to lose some hearing in my left ear.
My biggest concern is that she may be compromising our jobs as secret agents on Her Majesty’s service.
When we get in to the upyouget to go for a drive, for instance, she whines and scratches at the window until one of our humans opens the window to let her stick her head out and collect air samples. She might as well be wearing a sign around her neck that says Beagle Scout at Work! She is also so intent on sniffing every inch of ground when we go for walks that she has actually walked head-first into lamp-posts and mail boxes!
I remember making puppy mistakes like that myself when I was just starting out, trying to prove I would make a good agent some day, but she seems to be taking forever to grow out of that stage, and in the meantime I worry that other humans and agents in the neighbourhood are starting to look at us and wonder why she is trying so hard to get her nose into absolutely everything. I even caught her trying to open a letter we found in the front hall the other day!!
I know I have to be patient, but I may have to ask for an extended vacation at the agency’s summer retreat once C1 graduates.
It’s going to be a long winter.
Yours as ever.
Agent M3

Report to the Agency: That Time of Year.

2009-12-17T15:13:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-11-22T17:52:00.007-05:00

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

2009-08-31T21:08:00.005-04:00

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.

2009-06-09T12:37:00.003-04:00

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

2009-05-24T23:05:00.004-04:00

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.

2009-04-30T14:00:00.006-04:00

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.

2009-03-31T22:57:00.003-04:00

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.

2009-03-08T10:44:00.001-04:00

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.

2009-02-17T10:07:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-02-09T08:46:00.006-05:00

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,

Report to the Agency: M3 and The Guardian.

2009-01-28T22:01:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-01-24T20:46:00.007-05:00

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.

2009-01-20T17:01:00.005-05:00

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.

2009-01-16T21:32:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-11T22:37:00.001-05:00

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

2009-01-08T21:22:00.000-05:00

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.

2009-01-03T21:50:00.000-05:00

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.

2009-01-01T14:10:00.000-05:00

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

Report to The Agency: M3 makes New Year’s Resolutions

2008-12-30T20:59:00.000-05:00

Report to The Agency: M3 makes New Year’s Resolutions

According to the Agency Field Manual for Puppies – “Be Outstanding in Your Field,” 3rd Edition, 2008 – all agents on deployment are required to make New Year’s resolutions that will strive to be in the best interest of the agent , The Agency, and the humans in the puppy’s care. To that end, please find the list of my ten New Year’s Resolutions as follows:

I will work hard to help keep my humans’ cats exercised.

I will file at least 100 newly discovered smells every week.

I will make sure my humans do not become lazy from sleeping in on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

I will file regular squirrel sightings.

I will keep training my humans to give me treats after every time I do something such as sit or lie down. I will do this mostly by suddenly seeming to forget everything they believe they have taught me so they think they have to start all over again.

I will be diligent in sniffing out new messages from Big Wag at The Agency by stopping at every, single, sniffable scent when I take my humans for a walk.

I will do my very best to get to know James Hound, Agent K9, better, and try to learn from him.

I will try to devour more of my humans’ books, especially the Anglican Book of Common Prayer which I find almost impossible to put down.

I will make sure my humans get to know their local veterinarians by developing vague and non-specific stomach ailments in the middle of the night on weekends.

I will strive to not become predictable in my behaviours by seeming to not like the same snack food several days in a row, and then suddenly wolfing them down like I think they are the best thing on the planet.

That’s my list. The only thing I have to add is to wish everyone at The Agency a happy, healthy, prosperous and tail-wagging New Year.

As Always
M3

Report to The Agency: M3 and a Sense of Smell

2008-12-29T14:46:00.000-05:00

While keyboarding my report to The Agency, which I have to do while my humans are asleep, I discovered that their Internet access is secured. This meant that I had to spend all of three minutes – 21 minutes in dog minutes – to guess their password.
Humans, I have learned, are odd and inconsistent creatures. For one thing they take great pride in their ability to walk on two legs. As you can see from the attached picture, there really is nothing very special bout that – I do it all the time when I need to look over snow banks or bridge railings – I am rather short for a secret agent. Not only that, but they have an expression they use all the time: “Just follow your nose,” but they hardly ever do!

Humans have a very poor sense of smell. When I take them for a walk through the neighbourhood and down to the village, they will carry on about how fresh the air smells, or how wonderful the smells are coming from the coffee shop or the bakery. But all that time they have been missing the thousands of smells I have been keeping track of! Squirrels, cats, other dogs, the woman who just went by and who was visiting her horse in those boots a few days ago, the kid who is carrying an egg salad sandwich in his backpack and the couple who are having coffee at the cafe while leaving their German shepherd home alone. All those and a thousand others smells and traces tell me everything I need to know about what’s going on in the neighbourhood. I know, for instance, that Mrs. Franklin’s son Peter is home sick from school, and that his cat Paws has worms.

It’s exhausting being an agent, having to keep track of all the coming and goings in the village, and what everybody is up to – and I do keep very careful track, I assure you. So is it any surprise that I sometimes have a little nap around two or three in the afternoon?

What really gets to me, though, is when my humans come and look at me and comment on how cute I look, and how nice it must be to have nothing to do but just lie around all day. “It’s a dog’s life,” they chuckle. Or “Poor Millie – dog tired again.”

Sometimes I think they have no idea at all about what it’s like being a Beagle Agent.

Yours,
Having filed another 200 new smells today
M3

Report to the Agency: M3 receives her Agency kit.

2008-12-27T13:23:00.000-05:00

Report to the Agency: M3 receives her Agency kit.
Well. I’m happy to report that my agent kit finally arrived. Following my field placement in Stavanger, Norway, my kit was misplaced by Denmark On the Go (DOG) Airline, which left me without my equipment until they could retrieve it and send it on to me.

But now that I have it again, I can begin my work in earnest.

The kit contains all the gear an agent needs to do her work. All the various items are, of course, cleverly disguised as everyday dog stuff so no one will suspect what I am really doing when I take my owners for walks or when I am checking the house for suspicious objects. What appears to be just a simple bag of yummy puppy treats are, in fact, tracking devices that, once swallowed by a dog, will let me track it for several days. And that dog tooth brush? Well, it allows me to decode the messages left by other doggy agents as they walk around the neighbourhood. I can, of course, carry a variety of other items, including emergency dog food, bus tickets, my Barkberry cell phone and GPS, and a small thermos of coffee.

A couple of days ago I was hiking down the street with my kit on, adjusting the straps and getting used to the weight on my back again, when I heard old Growler – James Hound – chuckling. “What are those things on your back, Agent M3?” he asked. When I told him he shook his big, shaggy head. “What will they think of next?” he muttered. “In my day they gave us a few sharpened pencils and come beef jerky, and sent us out on the job. We didn’t need anyof all that electronic flimflammery, I can tell you that.” His voice trailed off as he started to reminisce about “the Good Old Days.”

But my toothbrush was buzzing, telling me that another message was being dropped somewhere in the area, and I needed to get going. So I hiked up my shoulder straps and got back to work. For me, of course, these are “The Good Old Days,” and I plan to make the most of them before it’s my turn to lie on a porch and wonder where the younger generation thinks it’s going.

As always,
Yours,
M3

Report to The Agency: M3 and the Christmas Home Intruder.

2008-12-24T21:03:00.000-05:00

Report to The Agency: M3 and the Christmas Home Intruder.

As the agent responsible for security in my new home, I am constantly alert and vigilant, even when I look like I’m asleep and my paws are twitching like I’m chasing bunnies. So it should come as no surprise, then, that when I heard unusual noises coming from outside last night, I was instantly opening one eye while pretending to be sound asleep on the couch.

The sound was not one I have heard before during the last few weeks of my visit here, so it made me very curious. At first it sounded a little like the small decorative bells my humans have put in the fir tree they brought into the house a few days ago. They also placed all sorts of other colourful ornaments on the tree, each of which I have inspected for hidden cameras and other suspicious devices used by Canine Operators Not Totally Real Or Lovable, (CONTROL). I have no idea what the humans are up to with this tree and all the decorations, but then there is so much about these humans I don’t yet understand.

Anyway, the jingling sound from outside stopped, and I was about to pretend I was drifting back to sleep when I heard what sounded like someone walking on the roof of the house.

Now, I have learned there are many rules in my new home: no chewing on pillows, for some reason, and no helping myself to books from the bottom book shelf, even though I have only read half of Jack London’s “Call of the Wild” and still don’t know what happened to Buck, the dog. In light of all these rules, I was pretty sure that walking on the roof was a pretty big no-no.
I sat up, cocked my head to one side to hear better, and looked at the ceiling, trying to guess what the intruder was up to. The steps were moving across the roof towards the chimney.
Suddenly, there was a thump behind the fireplace screen, and as I watched in amazement, a short, heavy-set older man with a white beard was standing in my living room! The burglar was wearing a furry red hat, and had a red suit on with a big, black, leather belt. His clothing looked very odd, but then again my own humans also wear odd clothing sometimes, especially the male who is given to wearing something called “sweater-vests” in spite of what the female human says.

I was so surprised I couldn’t even bark. He looked at me, his blue eyes twinkling behind his small, round reading glasses, and then he winked at me and put his finger to his lips to indicate that I should be quiet, which I thought was pretty nervy for a home intruder. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rawhide bone filled with something that looked very yummy and gave it to me, making me sit first, even though I tried not to. The bone was as yummy as it looked, and since my razor-sharp instincts immediately told me there was nothing wrong with it, I had a lick or two or three, and a little bite, determined to leave some of it as evidence.
The intruder had a large very colourful bag with him, and he proceeded to pull out some packages and place them around the tree. I chuckled to myself as I watched, thinking that he must be new at the burglary game because he was doing it all wrong, leaving stuff instead of taking it.

Then, he reached into his bag one last time, pulled out a big, red sock, and gave it to me.

“For brave little Agent M3,” he said with a big smile, scratching me behind the ears. “You have found a good home at last. Guard it well.” And as he straightened up and tightened up his bag, he chuckled softly: “Merry Christmas.” Then he placed his finger alongside his nose, winked, and vanished up the chimney again.
Were it not for the presents under the tree and the red sock full of all sorts of yummy secret agent treats, I would have thought it was all some sort of dream, or a trick being played by The Agency – Big Wag has an odd sense of humour some times. But I can still feel the comfortable spot where he scratched me behind the ears. For a home intruder, he was pretty nice.

I hope he comes again.

Yours,
Agent M3 – ever vigilant. And as the humans would say: Merry Christmas!

Report to The Agency: M3 receives a Mysterious Package

2008-12-22T22:32:00.001-05:00

Report to The Agency: M3 receives a mysterious package

It was left at the front door. The package was clearly delivered and not mailed since there were no stamps or other postal markings, nor was there a return address. At first I thought it was my standard issue supplies from The Agency since I’ve been expecting them, but the card on the package told me otherwise. It was signed “From Santa Ho Ho Ho”. I’d seen the writing before, but where?

I was tempted to first bring the package around to Agent Hound, James Hound, who is now living just down the street. But I thought better of it. His bomb-sniffing days are well behind him, his senses declining, and, well, I’m not sure he would even talk to me. So I carefully examined the package and the footprints that led from the front steps and to the sidewalk. They looked like a man’s footprint. Size nine loafer, making him about say 5’8 or so, 165 lbs? But were these tracks from the mysterious “Santa” or the letter carrier, or some other human?

I brought the package inside and to my humans’ bedroom. If anything unpleasant were to come out of this mystery package, I thought it best that it happen in that room since I’m not really supposed to go in there by myself, so of course they’d never suspect me of any wrongdoing.
The gold foil paper was shiny and bright. There was a green bow attached to the paper and affixed to the bow was the mysterious note from “Santa”. I sniffed and poked with my beagle nose, but all I could smell was that human scent I tracked into the street. That and leather. It could be from the package, or perhaps from the gloves the person wore to prevent me from spotting any finger prints.

The package was pretty, but I tore at it anyway, ripping the gold foil. When I got to the parcel, imagine my surprise when it appeared to be a small, round briefcase with, on one side, an attractive stylized image of a black dog with a little red buckle collar.

I opened the case and saw what were clearly two round stainless steel bowls, cleverly disguising two secret compartments. I opened the bowl on the left by moving three latches and in the hollow behind the bowl I found a package. Silica Gel. Any novice agent may have fallen into that trap, but not me. Not again. That’s a puppy mistake. The secret compartment on the right side behind the other bowl held the same. But I can tell this secret area could hold several treats, a few i.d. tags, and perhaps my new red bandana if I folded it very carefully. This “briefcase” could come in handy, and, of course, the bowls will certainly be useful. I have to eat even if I’m on assignment.

The base of the suitcase has “World Traveller” inscribed on it. So I can assume it is a gift from someone who knows me – or my reputation.

I will tuck this little gift inside my crate and see if I’m contacted by the mystery gift giver or if I can gather any more clues to establish his or her identity. I will report any breaks in the case as soon as I can.

Yours,
M3

Report to The Agency: M3 meets a legend.

2008-12-21T16:00:00.001-05:00

Report to The Agency: M3 meets a legend.

Imagine my surprise when I learned that the golden retriever who lives in the old house with the big porch down the street in none other than James Hound, Agent K9, Licensed to Track, himself.

Agent Hound – known to most people as Old Growler because he was rumoured to always be in a bad mood – retired from the agency many years ago, long before my time. Who would have guessed I would wind up living just down from that most famous of Her Majesty’s agents?
I should have recognized Agent Hound from his picture on The Agency’s Kennel Wall of Fame, but he is so much older now. Hound has a long and glorious career as a tracker and airport luggage sniffer. He was famous for never giving up on a search, even when other agents turned tail and ran away or lost the scent. The Great K9 was famous for his never-say-die attitude. The dog with the golden nose, is what his humans used to call him – we had to learn all about him in puppy school at The Agency. He always wanted ice-cubes in his water bowl – shaken, not stirred – so they said, and he reported directly to Big Wag herself! As far as I know he never married or had pups, and his owner is also retired. I’m pretty sure they live there all alone.
But Agent Hound, of course, must have recognized me right away, maybe even the first day I arrived at my new home. I know because just today, when my owners and I were walking past Old Growler’s porch, he raised that great shaggy head of his just enough to snarl: “I’ve got my eye on you, M3. In my day a little beagle like you would never have made it at The Agency. Things must be pretty desperate there now.” I just gulped and smiled. I think he could swallow me whole if he wanted.

I wonder if he would mind if I dropped off one of the many rawhide bones my owners have bought me. He looks like he could use something to chew on other than little beagle agents. Maybe he might even be coached into telling me some of his stories from the early days. We shall see.

Yours,
Agent M3.

Report to The Agency: M3 receives a message.

2008-12-17T22:14:00.000-05:00

Report to The Agency: M3 receives a message.

It’s possible I received a message from The Agency today. My humans came home this afternoon carrying bags with an assortment of objects, some, of course, were treats for me and some were treats for them, but one bag, interestingly, contained a package just for me. They happily handed it over to me and I was able to make some initial assessments. The object is plush and disguised as a small, hollowed out tree trunk. Inside the trunk, however, there are three small "toy" squirrels. I’m not sure my adopted owners were aware of the presence of the squirrels. They innocently left me alone with the object and I cleverly took it behind the couch to examine it fully.
Upon closer examination I discovered that the “squirrels” could be extracted from the plush trunk through a few small holes. I gave one of the cute creatures a tentative chew, and it made a squeaking sound! I chewed it again, and it squeaked again!
I recalled my puppy training at The Agency, and recognized immediately that the toy was communicating in Morse code.
Imagine my excitement! Finally, a message directly from The
Agency, possibly even from Big Wag herself!
I bit down again, and kept track of the squeaks. I tried the other two toy squirrels and they squeaked too! In harmony once or twice!
It was difficult to keep track of all the squeaks, but after about an hour, and before my owners took the squirrel-stuffed plush tree trunk away from me and put it on top of the refrigerator for what they called “some time next year,” I was able to piece together a cryptic but possibly quite meaningful message: “Argle imbref snurt orkiff.”
I’m not sure what it means yet, but whatever Big Wag is trying to tell me I promise I will figure it out.
But first I have to find some way to get to the top of the refrigerator.
More to come.
M3

M3 decodes a message.

Report to The Agency: M3 in The Great Escapes.

2008-12-16T12:32:00.000-05:00

Report to The Agency: M3 in The Great Escapes.

As per my basic training during my early days with The Agency, I decided a few days ago to test the security of the perimeter of my new headquarters. My adopted owners are remarkably trusting, and during a moment of distraction when the male let go my leash, I seized the moment to make a break for freedom.

The look on his face was most interesting as he tried to look nonchalant while stepping slowly toward my dragging leash – it was rather like fishing, I thought.

I, of course, waited ‘till the last second, and then using the lightning reflexes honed during my many hours of Dog Fu training, especially the Downward Human move, I flashed past him and out to the sidewalk where my inner compass indicated where I could find the deepest snowdrift to jump over as I headed down the street.

My human was lumbering along most pathetically, trying to call out my name while at the same time not attract the attention of the neighbours. He tripped and plunged into the snow bank, just at the same time as one of the neighbours rolled down the window in her van and told him that I went “that way!”

I had to wait several minutes in a neighbour’s back yard for him to catch up, looking like an angry Yeti, and when he was just about upon me I sped between his legs and back out to the sidewalk again, spraying him with wet snow as I did.

He said a great many unkind words using very large vowels which I couldn’t possibly repeat here.

When it was clear that he was unable to keep up, and I had run several circles around him many blocks from our home, I allowed him to “catch” me.

You would have thought he would have been happier to see me.

Anyway, a couple of days later I tried the same on the female, who, as it turned out, was much more determined to catch me, and dove into several mud puddles and heaps of slushy snow in an effort to catch my leash.

She did not appear to see the humour in the exercise, and is now making me sit at every street corner, even when the ground is frozen, which I find almost as undignified as leaping into the mud after a dog’s leash.

As Shakespeare’s dog said: “Lord, what fools these humans be.”

Yours Truly
M3

Cat-napping (pardon the expression) after the Great Escapes

M3 and the curious case of the hidden camera

2008-12-11T20:39:00.000-05:00

Report to The Agency: M3 and the curious case of the hidden camera

One recent afternoon while patrolling the house, I had the curious sensation of being watched. Beagle secret agents are, of course, carefully trained by The Agency to be hyper-vigilant at all times. Even when it appears we are asleep on the couch with an ear flopped over our eyes we are, in fact, using our special powers to constantly keep track of what’s going on around us.

The sensation of being watched was most unsettling as neither of the cats were around at the time. The black cat – which I have taken to calling “The Phantom” because she is still hiding out in the basement near the furnace – was, of course not around, and the white one – Mittens, the karate expert who likes to try out his moves on me when my tail is turned, was outside, no doubt planning his next assault on me. My Mistress was busy writing at her table and not paying attention to me.

There could only be one answer.

Well, two.

Either there was a stranger in the house, or I was being somehow watched by the agents of Canine Operators Not Totally Real Or Lovable, or C.O.N.T.R.O.L. I decided to investigate. My trained eyes roamed over the furniture and the bookcases searching for any evidence of electronic video devices, and suddenly I spotted it! There! On the second shelf of the bookcase! A teddy bear cleverly disguised as a listening device and hidden camera! I gasped. Those fiendish agents had invaded the home of my new owners and managed to install their equipment in that innocent stuffed bear!

I moved like lightning! I grabbed the bear from the shelf and immediately managed to disable whatever miniature electronic devices were in it. The stuffing made a bit of a mess, but at least I knew the eyes and nose cameras would never work again. In the middle of my work my adopted mistress came over and took the bear from me, no doubt grateful for my efforts and my vigilance – she looked very concerned for my safety, and could barely manage to contain herself long enough to encourage me to go and lie down and rest after my work.

Take that! C.O.N.T.R.O.L

Another job well done.

Yours truly.
M3

Illness strikes, and I assume a new code name

2008-12-07T17:11:00.000-05:00

As luck would have it, the cats did not prove to be much of a problem, but my old illness did. Let me explain.

There are two cats here at my new headquarters – one black and rather rotund named Maya who does not take much exercise, and the other an arrogant old cat called Mittens because of his extra digits on the front paws. Maya went to ground in the basement near the furnace the minute she clapped eyes on me. I wonder if we have encountered one another before – in Istanbul or Damascus perhaps, or Grenoble or St. Petersburg. I have run her image through my photographic memory, but do not recall ever meeting her before. Mittens, on the other hand (haha) has clearly never been “in the game.” He grumps around the place, hissing and snarling at me at every turn, not realizing I could turn him into a squeaky toy with one paw tied behind my back. But we are beginning to come to terms and reach an understanding.

Unhappily, my old complaint returned within a few days of my setting up shop in my new abode. My adopted caretakers refer rather patronizingly to this nasty condition as “Kennel Cough,” which is like calling shingles ‘itchy.’ I first contracted what I was told by a back-ally doctor in Havana is a form of recurring pneumonia when I was stationed in Cuba by The Agency. I had hoped the illness was cured, but it returned, and with a vengeance. I can’t help but wonder if this Maya – which sounds very much like a Nom de Guerre to me – somehow tinkered with my food. At any rate, my adopted owners took me to a doctor who prescribed the correct antibiotics, and even though I now feel listless a lot of the time, at least I’m on the mend.

While I was the clinic, I was able access the computer which had been left unguarded by the nurse, and got a message off to the Agency. I am adopting the code name M3.

Must run - more soon.
M3

The Assignment

2008-12-02T21:12:00.000-05:00

Today I decided to allow myself to be adopted. Earlier in the morning a very nice couple stopped by the Animal Control Pound where I had been lying low since my last assignment: The Case of the Broken Leash, but they lived in the wrong city, and were clearly the kind of people who would not take me for walks very often. Going for walks is essential if I’m to get my messages to The Agency, so I turned them down. But in the late afternoon another couple came by, and I liked them immediately. She seemed like a very kind and understanding person, and he obviously doted on her and would do pretty much whatever she wanted: my kind of people. They talked about how quiet and intelligent I seemed, and how much they were looking forward to walking me around their downtown neighbourhood. Perfect, I thought. There would be a small back yard where I could work out and keep in shape, and plenty busses I could use to get my information to The Agency as I gathered it.

I decided right away to let them adopt me.

I didn’t have to pack anything except a small bag of food and my collar – I travel light. Of course, my collar is not just a collar, but more about that later.

The car ride to my new home was very enjoyable, although I had to work hard to look out all the windows so I could keep track of where I was going. The Agency doesn’t like it if we get lost, so even though it means standing on my new owners’ laps while they were driving, I made sure to memorize the landmarks and the important smells until we pulled into the driveway. I knew immediately I would like my new home.

Except...
There were two cats.
This could be trouble.