Loafers, Expanding Stuff & Beagle Brat

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

My bride Management just bought me a new pair of shoes. I am concerned. Are we getting ready to have another one of those Averett improvement campaigns?

As you know I believe Management is never wrong. I certainly believe in improving Averett. The problem is some things just can’t be fixed. I am like a total loss car. The time and expense required to improve me is seldom worth the effort.

But getting back to the shoes. Management bought me a pair of Crocs in 2013. I’ve had a pair of boots for 20 years and I think I still have a pair of tennis shoes somewhere. How many pairs of shoes does one man need?  Oh yeah, and I have a pair of loafers. I feel like Imelda Marcos.

I like the Crocs mainly because I like saying “What a crock.” The loafers are appropriate also. This new shoes are Old Guy shoes.  They slip on so I can shuffle around while wearing my suspenders and complaining about kids and the Gub’mit.

I tried them on and they fit fine. I may get around to wearing them in another month or three if for some reason I need to wear shoes.

We just had to clean out one of our offices. Now all of the stuff is stored in one of my covered trailers. I am going to have to find room for it before one of us needs the trailer again.

Contrary to popular belief there is only one way to accomplish this. That is more storage space. Cleaning one of my existing barns to make room is not an option. Stuff is expected to expand to fill all available space.  That is what stuff does. It is a cosmic fact and to attempt to adjust the cosmos would be unreasonable.

I have three covered utility trailers and all three are filled to capacity. Obviously I need more of them.  This problem is all my fault. Until a few weeks ago I had a spare trailer but I gave it to a friend.  Apparently the stuff gods got the memo that I had empty space and put the wheels in motion to fill it. Then when I gave it away it was too late to stop the progression of the progression and the stuff arrived anyway.

Don’t tell Management but there are several storage trailers coming up on the salvage auction.

My new Beagle puppy has been an interesting project. Most of my dogs have been Labs or Golden Retrievers.  I once had a Beagle 30 years ago but I had forgotten how they are.  Beagles are self-absorbed. Beagles border on being sociopaths.  Everything is all about them.

Labs and Goldens will love, adore and trust you. They will spend an hour sitting at your feet admiring you.  If you are walking your Lab in the woods and a bear decides to eat you, your Lab will do it’s best to defend you.

A Beagle, on the other hand, would sit down and watch, thinking, “Boy, I’m glad that bear isn’t eating me.”

If Lassie had been a Beagle there wouldn’t have been a Lassie show. The first time Timmy fell in a well Beagle Lassie would have looked in and thought, “That meal ticket just ran out,” and would have gone off to chase something.

The only thing Labs, Goldens and Beagles have in common are a few genes and the fact that they will chew up anything they can find until they are at least two years old.

Our yard hasn’t been this full of destroyed stuff since our last Golden Retriever was a puppy. I am amazed with the amount of energy and destructive power packed into a 20 pound dog.

Oddly he reminds me of my Grand-brats for some reason.  The only real difference is only two of the G-brats chew things but all four (five counting the dog) break things and litter the landscape with the remains.

You have to remember that one of my theories is that every time you add a boy to any situation you double the destructive power and halve the collective IQ.

I didn’t realize adding a Beagle was like adding another G- Brat.