Yeti the Evil Beagle

Evil Devil Beagle Puppy
“Then I saw a Beast that rose out of the Earth: The Antichrist; for it had two horns like a lamb and spoke the lies of Astaroth.” — Revelation 13:11–17

Have you ever owned a beagle before? They are not the easiest dog to raise. My German wife and I have come to realize there is a real price to pay for their epic adorableness. An evil price. And our new beagle puppy, Yeti, takes this evil to a whole new level. Here are a few examples:

Yeti is stubborn. Stubborn like a mule. Whenever I put his leash on so we can go for a walk, he just sits his ass down on the sidewalk and refuses to budge one step forward without a treat. If I try to pull him along, he lets the leash ride up to his throat and strangle him. And that’s what my neighbors see every single morning; a very cruel American man choking his puppy stupid.

Yeti is motivated entirely by food. In German, they call this, “verfressen,” which loosely means food-motivated, but translates literally to “greedy” or “piggy.” I’m pretty sure, given the opportunity, Yeti would eat and eat and eat until he died. I mean, he eats deer shit, for Christ’s sake. No wonder he gets worms.

Yeti loves leaves. If food is his calling, leaves are his currency. Especially maple and oak. He likes to pick them up and carry they around like the richest little prince in all the land. Hell, he would run into the street and dive directly beneath the tires of a passing SUV just to score a good maple leaf.

Yeti demands positive reinforcement. While he does respond to corporal punishment, dog training has come a long way since the days of rolled up newspapers and noses rubbed in pools of urine. Instead, I try to encourage his good behavior by adopting a soothing, high-pitched tone of voice. I’ve heard it on video. It’s super creepy, like the villain “Him” from the Powerpuff Girls. I alternate between chilling sweetness and loud, angry panic, especially when Yeti tries to run away. “C’mere Yeti! Yeti? Good boy! Yesssss, very good. That’s verrrrry goooood. Wait, don’t run after that dog! Nicht in der Straße! Nein! Aus! Wait! Shit! Fuck!”

Yeti practices selective hearing. I also like to call this, “Convenient Deafness.” See, when we practice commands in the house or in our back yard, he obeys without problem. Like, when I say, “Yeti, komm!” he’ll totally run back to me. But given the slightest distraction — like a leaf blowing in the wind or a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis — he goes deaf as Helen Keller. Even my ultrasonic dog whistle can’t break through his all-consuming ADHD.

Yeti commands zealous adoration. Our house is right near a primary school, which means 350 German kids have come to know our dog by name and love him with every beat of their tiny little hearts. And I shit you not: every single day, when they come outside for recess, they gather at our fence and chant his name. “Yeti! Yeti! Come out and play!” And when my wife or I leave the house, they beg us to let him out. “Wait! Wait! Please wait!” they call, as we smile through thin lips and wave to the fervid horde, praying they don’t jump the fence and rush us like a bunch of half-pint zombies.

What I’m saying here is: Yeti is destined to become a cult leader. He’s already well on his way. I mean, just look at him. (Please click one of the pictures below to read the captions and fill your eyeballs with hellspawned cuteness.)

Now, please take a look at these other pictures, which show the merry hell this little asshole has wreaked upon our entire home:

Oh, and that’s not all; he has a pet rock named “Münster,” who may or may not be a willing participant in Yeti’s torture games…

But I do have this one small gift of revenge at my disposal: whenever Yeti is truly pissing me off, I just watch this .gif of him falling off a log over and over again, and pretty soon I’m back to my normal, smiling self.


If you have a question for Yeti, you can email him at or use the contact form below. (If he finds your message interesting enough, he might even respond.) Here are a few recent examples:

November 6, 2016
“Dear Yeti, you’re adorable! I have a beagle of my own named Max, but I think you *might* be a little bit cuter. (Shhhhh! Don’t tell!)”

“Hey, I can’t help it if Max is a loser, baby, and my epic cuteness is like a giant dildo crushing the sun.”

November 19, 2016
“Hi Yeti, I’m having some problems teaching my new Labrador puppy to heel on command. Any advice?”

“Yeah. Put him down. Labs are the slobbering halfwits of the animal kingdom.”

Kim P
December 15, 2016
“Dear Yedi. Hello from Anaheim, CA! I just wanted to say your totally adorable! Can I take you homw with me? Ha ha! j/k”

First: My name is spelled Yeti, not Yedi. Second: It’s ‘You’re’ or ‘you are,’ not ‘your.’ ‘Your’ is possessive, as in: ‘Your grammar is deplorable.’ Third: You’ve got a typo in the word ‘home,’ and no, I will not go there with you, you semiliterate Californian.”

Aaaaaanyway, I don’t know why on earth you’d want to seek advice from this little shit, but if you’re up for a little verbal abuse, go right ahead:

Thank you for reading and have an awesome day!



7 thoughts

  1. I know you shouldn’t speak badly of the dearly departed…but I too had an adorable dog that was also the spawn of Satan. She was a beautiful Olde English Bulldogge named Gemma whom I loved dearly in spite of the fact that I suspect she had been trying to kill me her entire life. Yeah, have fun and good luck with that! lol


What do you think? We welcome your feedback!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.