Dear Goddamned Beagle,
Feet and heads are normally separated by a body. This is an important part of anatomy, and one that, frankly, I’m used to.
So imagine my consternation when you arrived from the dog yard this morning with feet sticking out of your mouth. Just feet, hanging there while you casually walked past me with a “nothing to see here” glance and headed for the kitchen door.
Just a note here, Beagle: I am fairly familiar with your kind, and most dogs do not walk with their mouths closed. That, plus the feet, kind of gave you away.
While I appreciate your eventual willingness to drop your victim on the deck in exchange for the cup of kibble, that still left me to pick up the bird with a shovel and toss it away. I had not had coffee yet, Goddamned dog, and so my aim was poor. The corpse now lies on the garage roof, its dead eyes staring at me with the recrimination of its ancestors saying, “The Swissies never did this.”
I did not want a beagle. I will remind you of this from time to time, and today is definitely one of those times.