You need to think and say her name with an Italian flair. It's Bay-uh-TREE-chay. Our doing, well, my doing. I was troubled by the shortening of it to Bea when we have a dog whose name has a long ee sound. Why confuse them? Lo! Behold! I was starting to listen to another book on tape (didn't like it) and realized the book description cited a character named Beatrice but the reader was pronouncing it differently. Problem solved.
Regardless, tomato / tomato, she's an amazingly cunning little Beagle who is with us for, you guessed it, her heartworm recovery period.
Beagles don't like to take it easy. She wants to run and leap, to chase around the fenced in yard, to lock her gaze on whatever is "out there" that she senses.
Beagles are very good at getting their own way. What Bea, say "Bay", hasn't figured out is that her yard is much smaller thanks to my (self-proclaimed) clever re-formatting of her private outside space. It's win-win!
Inside she is Miss Social, wanting to be grand friends with our dogs. None of them understand the need to keep her calm. Compromise time arrived last night when I had her in the living room with all of us but placed securely on my lap.
She's learning that she cannot conquer this Rome in a day, no matter how her name is pronounced or how cute she is! And, she's penetrated our hearts, having been here to keep Boyd company his last week with us and now getting ready to enter her preparation time so she can go to her forever home.
Seems to be a popular theme at the global level all the way down into our state and into our lives.
We do what we do, we hope for the right reasons. Bea is a singular example of a life changed: sick and lost, overwhelmed, found, treated, secured, rebounding, gaining confidence and understanding, preparing for moving on, leaving our hearts changed. Hmm.