After the time-turner deposited the beagle in the Roaring 20s, I wandered around the streets seeing people dressed in fancy dresses and suits. What catches my eye is not the great looking people, but the fact that they were all heading in the same direction.
Well curiosity killed the cat, so I think I am safe to follow.
I follow them to this little door in an alley that isn't noticeable from the street and my tail wags in excitement. This must be one of those Speakeasies that I have learned so much about. I scamper in through the door before they can close it on me. The first thing I notice is the alcohol flowing freely and the noise which makes my eardrums want to burst.
I wander through the legs, dodging the feet that try to step on me, and I look up as I get to the makeshift bar. I am panting by now because of the heat of the room with everyone so packed together.
A bowl is put in front of my face with clear liquid and I assume that the person serving alcohol took pity on the poor dehydrated beagle and put water down for me. It was only when I was most of the way through the bowl that I realize the issue.
That isn't water. That is Tequila.
Shit.
I stumble through the crowd, like the drunk beagle I am - and who gives alcohol to a beagle?? - wishing I had been smart and sniffed the bowl first. I should have known better than to take something to drink!
Well I always said, beagles aren't the most intelligent. Maybe that will at least help with the hangover?
Hopefully.