Well, I must say I wasn’t fully prepared for the recent ferocity of weather – and have been somewhat peeved to find that one fence panel has feebly given up the ghost and three more, as mentioned yesterday, are not long for this world. Wind has howled and barked, like a sky full of rabid dogs, all ruddy night and the yawning gap ‘twixt the middle and right-hand fences at the back now could accommodate a large cat! The wood is so rotten that I cannot pull, push or curse the rapidly-disintegrating bits back together again!
Jumble has now got into Houdini Mode, inspired, I have no doubt, by the wily and determined Pippa. When the first panel went the way of all flesh, the dog was in like Flynn within seconds – and, when, last night, the rain-water barrel, as yet unattached and plugging the one tiny gap between me and my right-hand neighbour, went arse over tit in the rampaging wind, Jumble had squeezed himself through the hole and into a garden not his own before I could blink.
However, having initiated the Great Escape, he was then stymied – or buggered, as it is also known! – by a gate which stopped him from going any further, so he just wandered up and down the next door garden looking faintly disappointed and more than a bit discombobulated.
What is it with my animals?! Have they set up a kind of Competitive Escape Game or something? See which of the blighters can get furthest away from home before Own Goddess (that’s me) notices? Do they really want to go under a car (Jumble) or through a fox’s digestive system (Pippa)? Or are they both up for a bit of spring rutting? In Jumble’s case that’s going to be a massive let-down since he was de-bollocked at five months! Pippa? God knows!
Blocking the large gap left by the first domino – er, panel – was neither use nor ornament. Took me bloody ages too, wedging, from left to right, a chair, the recent Christmas tree and an upright wheelbarrow – but deterred the canine not a jot. Despite the wall, which I would have thought was beyond his reach, he sailed over with all the grace of a sack of coals and then proceeded to spend the next few minutes ingesting that which had been extruded from local cats’ bums days or weeks previously, the greedy little toe-rag! No wonder his breath is a Chemical Weapon in its own right – and probably ought to be fielded out to the wallahs at Porton Down.
I tell you, things have come to a pretty pass when your aged, and infirm, animal would rather go through the motions (as it were) than get stuck into the nutritious, well-balanced nuggets you provide for him. Admittedly, I wouldn’t touch them with a barge-pole, but then I don’t go a bundle on poo either!
The final little irony: My faecally-obsessed dog totally ignores the one area of this disgusting habit which would actually do me some good: The regular removal of the rabbit’s doings! So there’s me, up to my armpits in leporine turds – and will Jumble oblige by hoovering them up? Will he heck as like?!
I may have to get a goat!
And four new fence panels/posts!