When we were kids my oldest brother worked at a filling station. One day he brought home a tiny puppy that someone had driven off and left behind. And Buddy came into our lives.
I don't know much about Beagles but most that I've seen looked like cousins to Basset Hounds - kinda on the chunky side. Not Buddy. He was lean and muscular. And always with bright eyes and an alert posture. And a truly mischievous spirit. He was still a small puppy when he decided to climb up onto the dinner table after scraps. I guess that the garbage-hound part is universal with the breed. My mom came into the room and startled him and he scrambled to get off the table - while still taking a swipe at the roast on the platter. He landed wrong and broke his leg.
We took him to the vet where his leg was pinned and put in a cast. He was a pitiful looking sight hobbling around with that cast on! I don't recall how long he had it but just as soon as the cast was removed he broke his leg again. This time the vet advised us to put him down. "He'll never walk again and never be able to do normal dog stuff" the vet said.
He was such a cute little bastard that my mom was horribly conflicted about killing him. Ultimately she chose to have his hind leg amputated instead. And so he became "Buddy The Three Legged Beagle". The vet warned that his ambulatory skills would likely be pretty limited and primitive - he talked about eventually fitting him for one of those harness-carts, but Buddy was an impatient little bugger and had no time for anything of the sort.
In a remarkably short time he was off and running - literally. As he grew his remaining hind leg leaned inward, providing a natural rudder as well as propulsion. And boy how that dog could run! When I was in my teens I was a runner and set several track records. I had a hard time keeping up with him. He had another trait that wasn't so endearing (although it was remarkable) - buddy could climb chain-link fences. The run of the mill three-footer was no challenge for Buddy - I saw him easily scramble his way over six-footers.
One day my leftist neighbor let his high-dollar bird dog off his leash to go poop in our yard. Big mistake. Buddy spotted the dog and made a beeline for him. Buddy ignored the fact that he was 1/4 the size of the bird dog and lit into the intruder, thrashing him but good. I separated the two animals and put my dog in the house. The leftist sued and our insurance carrier settled - and then wrote a rider to our homeowner policy excluding damaged inflicted by "One three legged beagle dog".
My dad, who had been raised with dog teams and work animals, never really cottoned to Buddy. Instead he called him "Dammit". "Dammit, get out of there!" I routinely heard from the kitchen, the family room, or anywhere Dad and Buddy happened to be together.
Buddy led a full life and proved the vet a liar.
Edited to add a picture of the little terror.
