He was a unique combination, half terrier and half miniature dachshund. Very hyper, but gentle.
Poor Beaver had a rough time over his first 4th of July. We left Beaver home alone during the day. When we got back, he was shaking, scared to death from the fireworks. He had also nearly chewed and clawed through our wooden kitchen door.
Another time when the family left him home alone, he ripped open some bags of potting soil and covered our back room with it. My mom gave him a stern reprimand, “Beaver.” Beaver lowered his head and left the room. We found him hiding under a blanket.
Beaver loved to escape. He would race around our neighborhood, occasionally making some new dog friends. Still, no dog could ever compare to his true love, the kitchen rug. I caught them “together” on several occasions.
Sadly, my dear friend made me sick. After numerous emergency room trips with my Beaver-induced asthma, I know my parents didn’t want to keep him around. One day Beaver escaped again, just before a thunderstorm and never came back…or that’s the story I was told.
I’ve always suspected foul play, but my parents vehemently deny any wrongdoing.
And on another random dog note, we’ve had three different dog break-ins this year! I think they must sense the plethora of crumbs under our kitchen table. Dani and Mase are ecstatic with the visits, but my redhead, Evie, screams for her life whenever the smallest dog comes near.