Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra ‘news flashes’!
Wednesday October 28th 2015
Giving in to temptation I buy yet another squeaky toy. This is very silly. True, Isis loves squeaky toys and I love to see her enjoying herself. But, invariably, she squeaks them so energetically that they are flat and voiceless within an hour.
I wonder whether the chicken will have a longer life if I encase her in fabric. The chicken, I mean, not Isis, although ……….. !
There’s plenty of fine canvas left from the dog tunnel which she dismantled earlier in the year.
A whole new slant on chicken wrap.
My sewing skills are less than remarkable. I recall that at school I was still struggling with making a shoe bag when everyone else had finished an apron and was half way through a skirt.
I roll chicken in three layers of fabric and sew her up. Good. Her squeak is still nice and loud. But Ji. looks doubtfully from Isis to my parcel and advises another two layers. He’s probably right.
From the kitchen window we notice that the fluffy pest has managed to dislodge one corner of the hatch on the compost bin. I dash out and realign it. As soon as the door closes behind me, she dashes to the bin and begins to sniff all round it, tapping it with a paw. Yes. It’s different. Someone’s done something to it.
I comment that she will not rest until she’s removed it. When we next look the hatch is lying on the ground next to the bin, the orange and vegetable peely innards of which are now revealed.
Hairy One has not chewed the plastic hatch, nor has she disturbed the compost. Clearly, the challenge was just to remove it.
It’s quite a struggle to put it back. Isis immediately begins to circle the bin again, sniffing and tapping, her tail waving merrily with the excitement of the chase. She’s not about to give up this new game. I dive for the camera and kneel a few feet from the bin. She detects me, abandons the bin and dashes past. Determined to video her in the act of removing the hatch, I stay put. After a few minutes I become aware of Ji. at the kitchen window spluttering with mirth. I turn my head and feel the touch of tickly whiskers. Apparently, since she relinquished the compost bin, Isis has been standing behind me, cocking her head from side to side and sniffing over each of my shoulders in turn.
Ji. wisely suggests that I turn the bin round so that the hatch butts up to the neighbour’s fence. Excellent idea.
Isis hunts for the opening for about ten minutes. Soon, a pink nose appears in the gap between the bin and the fence. She’s located the hatch again but can’t access it. Good. Eventually, her many attempts to topple the bin having failed, she gives up, turning her attention back to the large section of blackcurrant bush stem which she uprooted a day or two ago.
We are fast running out of bushes. Best get back to Isis-proofing the chicken.
Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact email@example.com or www.dogwatchuk.co.uk
Oh, if only I had that much energy… 🙂
It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Mind you, you’d look pretty silly racing round a compost bin. The neighbours might talk!
LOL – I’m pretty sure my neighbors already think I’m nuts. I’m always having long, animated conversations with the dogs when I’m outside, and last week after all the rain, I was playing with them and slipped right down in the mud – one whole side of me was coated 😦 Hoping nobody saw that, haha! Oh, and also that week I was trying to lift 57 lb blind and deaf Boo into the back seat of my SUV for a trip to the Vet and lost my balance on the concrete edge of the driveway, fell backwards, and sat right down on my behind in the flowerbed (which was dry at the time, thank goodness). And I was in a dress and heels, ready for work! So I’m definitely already toast with the neighbors 🙂
I love it! I could just visualise the indignity !
I’m similar – very accident prone! I’m sure it’s the dogs’ influence!
Talking about being nuts, I was walking through the local high street several years ago – without the dog. The pavements were very crowded and I got some very strange looks when I stopped at the kerb and commanded loudly, “Sit!”