Fools Motto
Well-Known Member
So, the back door into the garden was open, it was about 1am this morning. The back door is open because the spaniel has a dodgy tummy at the moment (again) and this way we are all much happier because I don't have to clean up and she doesn't have to worry. However, this has caused a few sleepless hours as the whippety-thing loves chasing the neighbours cats who hang out seemingly taunting and probably doing some sort of wife swap on the fence and in the tree over looking into our garden.. there is often much woofing with toing and froing in and out. Totally pointless, but it makes her feel good and her consistency in limiting my full nights sleep is on point...
Anyway, then there was the blood curdling scream.. yes at 1am.... this was no ordinary 'cat'. The whole of the south of the uk probably heard, even in their sleep. I did say she is a whippet x - right? Can be known to be slightly over dramatic!! I rush downstairs, suddenly as awake as an owl whose had redbull, but as graceful as an elephant auditioning for a ballet. I enter the kitchen expecting death by wild escaped tiger or something. The spaniel is pleased to see me, or that could have been a subtle sign even she needs rescuing from the brainless one, speaking of which, she won't even look at me. I call her name, she looks round. Her normally greying muzzle has a hint of pink. OK... has she actually caught a feline? Sugar, the neighbours are moving tomorrow, wrong time to need a vet. I go to take a closer look... the screaming starts again. I touch her muzzle (and then realise I might have put my hand into the danger zone, but too late - well a few war wounds to the hand is like a trophy - right?) to take a closer look, and get a prickle - like a splinter. A big ass splinter. A quick pull, and it's a splinter... like a porcupine quill. Wait, what!!? There is a trickle of blood, but certainly not deserving of a blood bath one was first led to believe.
I put the outside light on, to see if my stalking skills can piece together the what's, why's and when's, and prepare myself for the bodies of said tigers or porcupines.... or maybe even worse, broken the (new) fence. Yes, the whippety-thing has been know to go head first into the fence trying to be super dog chasing those wife-swapping cats in the tree some 25ft above. Turns out none of the above...well, not quite. The biggest hedgehog I've ever seen - he was football sized. The dumbest dog on the planet had been trying to fight the prickly football. She ended up with some sort of lip piercing, ran to the hills screaming like she was doing the starring role in arachnophobia, while he just uncurled, accepted a quick pick up (now fully trained in weight lifting) in a towel to check for blood, put back under a good bush outside our garden and waltzed off probably going 'ya bro, what's the prob?'!
The whippety one, still hasn't looked at me, and doesn't want to go out into the garden... yet. Maybe I'll get a few peaceful hours tonight?!?
Anyway, then there was the blood curdling scream.. yes at 1am.... this was no ordinary 'cat'. The whole of the south of the uk probably heard, even in their sleep. I did say she is a whippet x - right? Can be known to be slightly over dramatic!! I rush downstairs, suddenly as awake as an owl whose had redbull, but as graceful as an elephant auditioning for a ballet. I enter the kitchen expecting death by wild escaped tiger or something. The spaniel is pleased to see me, or that could have been a subtle sign even she needs rescuing from the brainless one, speaking of which, she won't even look at me. I call her name, she looks round. Her normally greying muzzle has a hint of pink. OK... has she actually caught a feline? Sugar, the neighbours are moving tomorrow, wrong time to need a vet. I go to take a closer look... the screaming starts again. I touch her muzzle (and then realise I might have put my hand into the danger zone, but too late - well a few war wounds to the hand is like a trophy - right?) to take a closer look, and get a prickle - like a splinter. A big ass splinter. A quick pull, and it's a splinter... like a porcupine quill. Wait, what!!? There is a trickle of blood, but certainly not deserving of a blood bath one was first led to believe.
I put the outside light on, to see if my stalking skills can piece together the what's, why's and when's, and prepare myself for the bodies of said tigers or porcupines.... or maybe even worse, broken the (new) fence. Yes, the whippety-thing has been know to go head first into the fence trying to be super dog chasing those wife-swapping cats in the tree some 25ft above. Turns out none of the above...well, not quite. The biggest hedgehog I've ever seen - he was football sized. The dumbest dog on the planet had been trying to fight the prickly football. She ended up with some sort of lip piercing, ran to the hills screaming like she was doing the starring role in arachnophobia, while he just uncurled, accepted a quick pick up (now fully trained in weight lifting) in a towel to check for blood, put back under a good bush outside our garden and waltzed off probably going 'ya bro, what's the prob?'!
The whippety one, still hasn't looked at me, and doesn't want to go out into the garden... yet. Maybe I'll get a few peaceful hours tonight?!?
??
she was delighted with herself both times
