Thirty years ago today, a little Beagle was born. She was a lifelong happy little dog, never a loudmouth unless on a scent outdoors, and always ready to run and chase those rabbits. Fortunately, I have two acres worth of rabbits. I remember the summer days she would go out back to the stream in hot pursuit of the little critters (never once did she catch one) and come back all muddy-bellied, and walk right to the hose to get cleaned off. She loved to play with her sister, Orca the Dobe, and she loved to do her repertoire of tricks. She also liked, as most hounds, to lie in the sun and snooze. I still miss her cheerful, bouncy attitude, and her beautiful soft ears. I know that she is with Daddy Mike at the Rainbow Bridge, and I thought she deserved to be remembered here on what would have been her birthday.