Meet our little savage.

This is our dog. Nap. Short for Napoleon, the conqueror. 

He’s a Beagle, but he’s also part cat, rabbit, statue, and savage. 

Here is a list of things you should know about him:

He likes to sit on people. Not close to them, or beside them. On top of them. He will back himself up like a beeping truck and plop his butt on top of your feet, legs, face, or whatever other body part he can reach. Then he will sit very rigidly as if he realized he did something awkward but now it’s too late to fix it.

He has a long list of things that scare him. These things include water (lakes, rivers, rain, puddles, you name it), boats (for obvious reasons), crossing busy streets, sudden movements, other scary dogs that try to eat him, brooms, large unknown objects, anything remote-controlled, playing fetch, balls in general, abandonment, and being alone forever.

He howls more than he barks. He hardly ever barks, and he only sometimes howls. Nothing puts Nap in an angsty, melodramatic mood like howling. He howls in response to three different sounds: firetrucks (he has to be right next to the firetruck as it’s going by, giving a full-body lament that often earns a laugh from the firemen), blenders, and my boyfriend’s (Addy’s) saxophone playing (this last one is understandable).

We thought we had potty trained him. When we first moved back to New Orleans with him, he never peed in the house. Then one night we found a puddle of pee right next to the toilet, so obviously we figured it had been a real emergency and Nap noticed that the toilet was the place where peeing happens, so he did his best to follow suit. WE WERE SO PROUD. What a brilliant dog we had!

Except then the next day he peed directly into our printer.

He can hug. After he learned how to sit and stay, I decided the next most important trick would be to hug. What’s better than having your dog give you affection on command? So now when you say hug, Nap jumps up and wraps his front two arms around your body (or really your legs, he’s not that tall) while balancing on his back feet. It’s very cute and entirely necessary. He only hugs certain people though—even dog has standards.

We both compete for attention like children. Addy originally found Nap wandering around Tennessee and decided to keep him. By the time I went to visit him, the two of them had already established a tight bond. The first night I was reunited with Addy, Nap peed on all my clothes in the middle of the night. A coincidence? I THINK NOT. If I go sit next to Addy on the couch, dog has to scooch up in between us. If I walk into the room to ask Addy a question, dog has to follow to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. If Addy kisses me, guess who has to jump up with his wet dog tongue and get in on the action? This has brought on an entirely ridiculous but very real rivalry that I feel I must win at all costs.  

He death stares using his whole body. Here is picture evidence.

If only I could be so intimidating.