R-U-N-N-O-F-T

The word is from Oh Brother, Where Art Thou.

There is a woman - Mrs. Hogwaller - who has left the husband and child. To explain in front of the child, the husband says she has up and R-U-N-N-O-F-T.

Louis, pictured in his barn coat, has R-U-N-N-O-F-T.

We stacked wood today for about four hours while he was on a long cable lead and anchor. He played in the meadow and did foxhound things.

My wife came out, inspected our efforts as I was finishing, and offered to call Louis into the garage as practice for our "beagle home" drill we do a little of to ensure we can get him home if he gets off leash.

Fine, but for an unexpected cat.

Then, the woods.

Then, a scent.

I was gassed from stacking wood. He was not. I managed to get close enough at one point with leash and biscuit for him to sit, take the biscuit, then scoot off at high speed.

He was a quarter mile east of me in the woods and going strong when I lost him. He had no interest in staying close as is his normal drill.

Signs. The authorities. Social media.

He's a foxhound in a little coat. It is snowing. It is dark. The coyotes are out.

I'm resigned to not seeing him again. Beagles are rarely found. Chipped. Collared. Has his coat on. Still, odds are poor.

So, that look in the eye of the photo? It is not domestication.

Whatever you love, breaks your heart.


***** UPDATE *****

At home, on the ottoman as if nothing happened. Snoring, actually.

Probably will have the shits tomorrow from eating dead things in the woods. Ran onto a nice woman's porch about three miles away this evening. Probably thought it was dinnertime and she'd feed him.

Still a heartbreaker. The feet in the bunny pajamas are NOT mine. I'm wearing the boot socks, for the record.

Yes, Louis normally hogs the ottoman for about 17 hours a day.

Now, back to work for me.