Dear Goddamned Beagle,
Normally I wouldn’t say self control is your strong suit. You leap, you chase, you steal, you’re busy beagling 24/7, making your opinions and desires known to all. It might be fair to say you spend your life turned up to 11 when you’re not sleeping, and even your sleep seems somehow more intense, like you’re sleeping harder than other dogs, storing up more rest more quickly.
So I’d like to congratulate you on your most impressive feature: your burrito.
Sure, some dogs might go lie down somewhere when they’ve had enough or need a rest, but you do much better than that. You shut down shop, wrapping yourself in a blanket and burritoing yourself into a cocoon of silence until you’re ready to start again. I’ve noticed you have a summer burrito and a winter burrito, the tightness of the wrap reflecting the temperature. You are nothing if not capable.
You give not one hoot if someone wants to play, to talk, to sit where you are (though I do worry that you’ll get squished under someone, so complete is your burrito that you’re often invisible). You ignore those peasants who think interrupting a Beagle’s burrito “just to look” are funny. You don’t even open an eye, not even if someone moves you to a safer place on the couch. You will return your attentions to the world when you are ready, and not a minute before.
I wonder if you’d show me how to do this someday, Beagz? I could really use some of that.
Brie burritos herself, too! But in her opinion, a burrito isn’t a burrito unless it’s also Emily’s little spoon. She’s a little spoon burrito.
To each her own burrito!