Charlie and Pete, the sequel
The first backyard skirmish between Charlie and Pete happened five years ago on a night with a full moon. Charlie is our beloved beagle mutt who is now 14 years old and missing a few teeth. Pete is a trespassing possum who’s been trying to drive Charlie crazy for years.
This puppy-possum war isn’t personal. Charlie and Pete are just doing what dogs and possums do. Possums lurk around at night, sometimes in places where they’re not welcome, and beagles sniff things and bark. If you’ve ever known a beagle or any other hound, you know they have a distinctive bark that’s mixed with a bellowing, baying quality. An experienced beagle parent knows that sound translates to “Come quick. I’ve cornered a critter!”
When this not-so-silent war began five years ago, I saw what happened the moment Charlie’s nose sniffed the open air and registered the scent of an invader. He took off across the yard like a bullet – a barking blur of fur and fury. He barreled to the base of a tree, which made the backyard motion light come on. That’s when I saw Sneaky Pete the Possum scurry straight up the tree trunk, Spiderman style.
Charlie jumped after him, barking and nearly nipping the tip of Pete’s skinny, hairless tail. But to no avail. Pete climbed out of reach, settling on a tree branch so he could look down at the dog and trash-talk him.
Having been outrun and outwit, Charlie decided his only move was to outlast the invader. So, he sat under the tree, staring up at Pete while barking his extreme displeasure. I had to go pick him up and bring him back inside to end the verbal onslaught.
Afterward, we didn’t see Sneaky Pete for a long time. I assumed he either went out of state for college or started smoking cigarettes behind a honkytonk somewhere. Peace had finally prevailed, and our dog Charlie settled into a quiet retirement life. He mostly naps, eats, and gives us sad beagle eyes until we share our snacks.
But last night, Tom and I heard that tell-tale barking and knew the battle was back on. I grabbed a flashlight and walked out on the deck to find Charlie on the ground below, barking a blue streak at something above him. I pointed my flashlight in that direction, and there he was – Sneaky Pete had once again penetrated the perimeter and was perched on the backyard fence.
He looked a little plumper than he did five years ago, and his rat-like tail dangled down over the edge of the fence. I tried to shoo him away, but if he wouldn’t budge for a ballistic beagle, he probably wasn’t moving for a miffed mom with a flashlight either.
I knew I’d either have to walk down into the muddy yard to scoop up my beagle or convince my furry little soldier to stand down. Calling his name yielded zero results. So, I tried negotiating a peace deal with the only currency this dog understands – cheese.
I dangled the square slice of American cheese where he could see it. “Want some cheese, Charlie? Come on, buddy!” He looked at the cheese and then back at beady-eyed Pete. I could tell that part of him wanted to stand his ground and bark at that pompous possum all night, but Charlie is no longer a young pup. A bigger part of him wanted to curl up on the sofa, watch Wheel of Fortune, and eat some cheese.
Slowly, he trudged up the stairs to the deck, where I picked him up, rubbed his velvety head, and carried him inside. Pete the Possum may have held the high ground, but Charlie, the battle-weary beagle, enjoyed the cheesy spoils of war.
Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her book is available on Amazon.
