Kitty Paw-Paw, or Paw-Paw, as he's affectionately known, is our black-backed, white-bellied cherub who illustrates what is meant by being "stiff-necked". A very intense, tightly wound little boy, and not one to start a fight, he will slip from a very comfortable place of obedience to finish it; backing down is never an option.
The day of the transitional "big" fight came following a vociferous exchange between Seraphim - the angel of high rank - and the Paw-Paw. The musical quality of Seraphim's voice suggested he was teasing or berating our short, squatty, next-to-the-youngest beagle boy. Paw-Paw's voice exemplified Johnny-one-note: "Ar-ar, ar-ar, ar-ar!" Translated, he was responding to Seraphim's abuse, "Am-not, am-not, am-not!"
Ours was to figure out what our "angel-boy's" abuse consisted of, but first they had to be separated! Framed in the doorway of my writing room were the two of them, jaws locked on one another's face and ears. Their voices were angry; rumbling, snarling threats thundered through their trembling little bodies; fear drove my actions, "Lloyd! Help me!" I could be heard throughout the acreage.
He jumped from his chair in the next room; my situation savior knew exactly what to do, "You get the Paw-Paw and I'll get Seraphim!" Trying to pull them apart only made their jaws lock harder.
"What do you suppose Seraphim was saying?" Speculation was not new to us. Lloyd cradled Seraphim and I Paw-Paw, stroking their tiny chests and speaking discipline and encouragement in soft, cooing voices.
"Lloyd, the Paw-Paw just told me what started the fight. Seraphim was chanting, 'You're not a beagle! You're legs are too short! You're a basset-hound! Paw-Paw's a basset! Paw-Paw's a basset! Paw-Paw's a basset!'"
Lloyd confirmed this with a shame-faced Seraphim. Correction was administered, followed by more loving.
After that day, care was taken to watch for and head off signs of aggression; Paw-Paw invariably was the picked on; a practice that mirrored the birth-order dynamics of his owner's youth.
