Beagle

The beagle came into the world with one brilliantly developed tool — a world-class nose — and essentially all the rest of the dog is subordinate to whatever that nose happens to detect. The beagle doesn't so much smell the world as read it with the nose — and when it comes upon an interesting trail, it follows it with a determination that can surprise anyone who expected a well-behaved little dog on a leash.

That nose has, moreover, an impressive résumé. For centuries the beagle did one thing in England: it followed the trail — low to the ground, tirelessly, across fields and hedgerows, until it succeeded. Today those same skills have found themselves entirely new jobs. At major airports the beagle works as a customs officer: the famous American “Beagle Brigade” can point out a single apple hidden at the bottom of a suitcase in a hall full of thousands of pieces of luggage — a gentle, wagging officer whom no one fears and from whom nothing can hide. And the most famous beagle in the world, Snoopy, went even further: it doesn't track at all, but lies on the roof of its kennel and writes a novel. And that's the whole beagle in a nutshell — world-class talent plus an entirely private opinion about what to use it for.

And here appears something you need to understand before the beagle comes to live with you: when the nose catches a really good scent, your calling stops getting through. Not because the dog is disobedient or spiteful — it's simply that, at that moment, the tracking instinct is stronger than anything you have to offer it. The beagle hears you perfectly; the rabbit has simply proven more persuasive. That's why it's a dog with which a leash and a proper fence aren't an overreaction but common sense — and with which it's worth making friends with scent work very early, instead of fighting a nature you won't win against anyway.

Because the beagle has one more trait that says more about it than the nose alone: it's a pack dog to the marrow. It was bred to live and work in a group — in a pack of other dogs and at the side of humans — and to this day solitude is for it something unnatural, even painful. A beagle left alone for a long time can pine so loudly that the neighbors hear it; that famous, singing howl is often simply the song of a dog that can't stand being separated from its pack. And its pack is you. The beagle wants to be in the very middle of your day — at the table, on the couch, in the car, everywhere something is happening and where you're together. Give it that sense of belonging, and it will repay you with a cheerfulness of spirit few dogs can match.

The very same nose that makes the beagle a born tracker also makes it a world-class collector of opportunities. The beagle will find and try to eat things you had no idea were within reach — and nature added one more trait: the beagle signals fullness very poorly. Those “hungry eyes” of its aren't information, they're the factory setting. And since it has a compact build on which excess weight hides for a long time, obesity comes very easily to it — it's one of the breed's most frequent ailments.

Because the whole beagle — that nose pulling into the bushes, that operatic howl at the door, that expedition after a scent you can't even smell — comes down to one thing: it's a dog that doesn't want to be alone and doesn't want to miss anything. It wants to be with you, in the very middle of life, as a full-fledged member of the pack.

Give it closeness, exercise, and an occupation for that amazing nose, and in return you'll get a companion of indestructible good cheer and a big heart — a rascal around whom it's never boring and whose absurd, fragrant adventures you'll remember for years.