I did, however, train the Beagle not to bite me if I attempted to remove any sort of food from him. I don't know how. Perhaps he felt sorry for me. I still, vividly, remember taking a big lamb bone off him and then chucking it under a writing desk - he flew in after it and thirty seconds-odd later, I hears the crunching. Do all Beagles have such strong jaw muscles? Thirty seconds later, the old man went in to remove said bits of lamb bone and emerged with Beagle hanging from his forearm, having clamped himself there and refusing to budge. For about five minutes, the old man held his arm at ninety degrees with the hound hanging and the blood flowind. He gave up first, not the hound. Various bones in his forearm were crushed during this. I laughed, lots.
Old man clobbered me for laughing, then told me I was in charge of the hound from then on.
Corking!
