My brother Bernie

Hey everyone, I want to introduce you to my brother Bernie. He's also part bloodhound (and part cocker spaniel and great pyr--DNA doesn't lie!) He was rescued from a shelter in West Virginia when he was a year old. He's four now and is quite the ladies' man in the neighborhood. He loves sniffing just like me, but is a much slower, methodical sniffer than I am, so there is often a twenty-foot gap between us when we go for walks.
I'm trying to teach Bernie how to howl, but he can't quite get the accent right. He does have an incredible bark, though. When he hears someone coming, he stands in the front window and barks. The mail carrier and fed-ex man sprint up our door, leave the packages, and sprint back to their vehicles. He's a pretty impressive guard dog.
Bernie is also a food snob. He has to have olive oil sprinkled on his kibble. He was also afraid of going down the basement steps for the longest time--I had to show him how. His favorite thing in the world is playing with his squeaky egg toy. That thing is so loud. He'll play fetch for hours while I relax in the shade garden.