Beady Eye


Our despicable Dingo. I know it sounds harsh, but Jack (his dignified given name) has tryed me like a shoe on sale.

Dastardly Dingo? Is that better?

How bout’ dirty no good Dingo? C’mon, if you only knew.

Okay, for the sake of this story I’ll call him by his more kindly moniker,


Beady Eye.



Once upon a time Ol’ Beady Eye looked rather cute and innocent.



But don’t let that deceive you. Lurking in the mind of this cute little ball of fluff by the nature of breeding were dark thoughts. Dark delinquent visions of destruction.

Ol’ beady eye and I have gone nose to nose and toe to toe over the last 2 very long years of his life and at a cost of a little over $1000 of our hard earned cash. So far. I think. I’m afraid to do the math.

But the list is as follows:


All garden hoses, gone


Extended vet stay for salmon poisoning. (I don’t like salmon, but maybe the neighbors do and Beady Eye less. Not an accusation, just a thought). Big $$.


Several weeks of delivered newspapers, shredded, gone.


All drip water systems around gardens, gone.


5 pairs of gloves, gone.


1 pair of Mucksters, gone.


1 Japanese Maple, gone.


1 dog leash, gone
1 dog collar, gone.

Miscellaneous items of visitors (sorry), gone.


Why Beady Eye, why?

Our once harmonious home is fraught with heated discussions on dog training and responsibility for watching out for Beady Eye. Sharp criticism for the others methods frequently happen. What the heck, we didn’t have this many issues raising kids!


Ethan, our grandson shows me how he gets Beady Eye to submit. But I was eyeing the pitchfork in the background. Just saying.

Ol’ Beady Eye has ended up twice on Craigs List over failure to resolve his behaviour issues.



Like his least bothersome but annoying issue of pooping within just a few feet of me. Always. Sheesh.

There’s a whole world out there Beady Eye. please!

On more than one occasion he has sat there looking up at us with his those pleading yet mischievous beady eyes as we once again relent, committing to overcome obstacles and trying not to worry about those we can’t. Like the fact that HH and I aren’t spring chickens anymore. And Beady Eye is a true blue Heeler who’s amused by ruffling the feathers of a couple of old birds.




Now that I got that off my chest. I best give him a Kong full of goodies.


Or kiss another hose good-bye.

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