On getting Molly The Cute Beagle

So where were we? Oh yea, we'd agreed to get a beagle. We live in Georgia, so I started looking around for beagle breeders in the area that may have puppies available. There were really only a couple of breeders that I could find, and neither had pups at that time. Not one to be detered, I started to expand my search radius a bit. Eventually I found a breeder that fit the bill. Said breeder was not in Georgia but rather was in North Carolina. I'd always wanted to go the Biltmore Estate, so I figured we could kill two birds with one stone since it was on the way. We hadn't taken any trips recently so my husband reluctantly got on board since it was clear we were going the puppy route whether he liked it or not :)

Went to the Biltmore...yadda, yadda, yadda...it was cool but a lot more expensive to tour than I realized. So we hop in the car to go meet the breeder. At this point it became clear that my husband and I were on a slightly different page. While I did say that the breeder was in North Carolina, and the Biltmore Estate is also in North Carolina, I didn't ever intend to imply that they were actually close to one another. I mean "on the way" doesn't have to mean "close." It wasn't quite as bad as saying that Texas is on the way to California, but it was definitely still a few more hours drive away from Asheville. Ha. That didn't go over too well, but it did give us more time to discuss the aforementioned quasi-useful Beagle book. We learned that beagles are stubborn and can be difficult to train...fun. But at this point we were committed. Or at least that's what I told my husband...as in "Well, we are already half way to the breeder, so while we went a little bit out of the way, it's still faster to drive from Asheville than to drive from home." I really wasn't trying to scheme, promise. I really didn't realize it was going to be that far.

Well, we eventually made it to the breeder several hours later, and AWWW. Puppy heaven. They were SO cute. We played with four different puppies at once. I really wanted to take them all, but one really stood out. We had talked about wanting a female puppy, and Molly The Cute Beagle was the only female they had at the time. But more than that, she came over and just wanted to snuggle and love on me. My husband said she picked me as much as I picked her. We signed the paperwork, wrote the check, put on the black collar, and we were on the road again. A match made in heaven! Until...

Let me interjected here to say I am not a fan of the word that I am about to use, a lot. I don't really like to say it or write it. Maybe it's that second grader in me that just feels like you aren't supposed to use such words because your mom and teacher told you it's is not a nice word. So to those of you who also don't like this word, I apologize profusely. But unfortunately the story cannot be done justice without it. And that word is FART.

We were about 5 minutes away from the breeder when we were both overwhelmed. Oh my gosh! What hideous, awful creature from a black lagoon wearing three week old socks and eating rotten eggs could put out such an awful, awful smell. It's couldn't be. Not this precious 8 pound bundle of cuteness and cuddliness. But it was. This puppy's farts could melt paint off a wall and bring tears to the eyes. I am sure kids can do this too, but since we don't have any of those yet, it came as a major surprise that something so small and cute could put out such a rank fart.

We chalked the stank up to her being nervous (even though she was comfortably asleep in my lap) and rolled the windows down. This was probably Molly's first time in a car though, and the wind blowing into the windows as we cruised down the interstate did seem to freak her out. So we rolled the windows back up thinking things had sufficiently aired out. Well they had, just not for long.

This puppy continued to fart about every 5 minutes for the whole rest of the five-ish hour drive home. I think at a few points during the drive my husband was seriously considering turning around to take her back for having defective booty control. Here I was thinking I should be worried about her peeing on me during the drive. I even bought a peepad to put on my lap to avoid a mishap. But this farting was far far worse, and I am not convinced a gas mask would have helped. While only 10 weeks old at the time, Molly quickly proved that she had a mastery of the silent but deadly attack.

I'd really like to be able to say that Molly has gotten over this, ahem, problem. But alas, as I sit here writing this post almost two years later with The Cute snuggled next to me on the sofa, I have already been gased twice. I try to find the silver lining in everything, so at least she proves to be a very believeable scapegoat when I happen to let one slip...not that I ever do such a thing :)



Molly The Cute Beagle sleeping and farting away in my lap on the ride home from the breeder