The dogs don't dig it
November 27th 2008 11:47
It has been a traumatic three days for the dogs, who have seen their beloved backyard turned into an alien landscape. We tried to explain that we had little choice, but understanding and forgiveness weren’t immediately forthcoming.
What happened is this. We bought a new house a few months ago and it had a pleasant backyard comprising mainly a flower garden and a small but healthy patch of lawn.
Within weeks, our new house had a backyard comprising a struggling flower bed and a small lawn which looked every day more like one of the less cared for areas of Mars.
Our dogs care little for our dreams of backyard entertaining. Our dogs like to dig.
In due course, a practical solution was formulated. But it was a radical plan. How would Scratchy and Daisy cope?
A second flower bed was created and greyhound-proof fencing was erected to protect them both. And then we called Angelo.
He’s the man when it comes to paving.
Three days ago, Scratchy and Daisy were just settling into their sofas for a nice eight-hour, post-breakfast nap, when an army arrived. There was a big truck with a lot of paving stones on it, and a fork-lift which whirred into action shifting pallets of pavers from the truck to the driveway. And there was Angelo and his platoon of paving professionals.
The dogs, with access to their backyard cut off, watched with dismay through the big glass doors. Sand, gravel, concrete, pavers; sun, sweat, grunts and groans. And a new backyard took shape.
It was all finished last night, and as this morning dawned clear and warm, the dogs once again had unrestricted access to the back of the house.
Daisy was the first to determine that the new stuff was completely resistant to the digging impulse. She sighed. Then she squatted and greeted the paving with a welcoming splat, before stalking back inside to the sofa.
Scratchy, exploring another area of the new landscape, came slowly to a different conclusion. This stuff, he decided, might be hard, but it’s warm. Might just lie down here for a nice snooze.
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Comment by Dianna G
I Wish This Was 42
Fictional Worlds
Sounds like fun... I hope you're forgiven soon.
~Dianna
Comment by Chris Champion
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Comment by Dianna G
I Wish This Was 42
Fictional Worlds
There's one chair in my house on which the upholstery has been utterly ruined by my cat.
You can bet he'd be mad if we got rid of it/reupholstered it.
And he can hold a grudge.
~Dianna
Comment by Chris Champion
Vyoos
Zoomies
Bloggercises
The Blog of Lists
Newly Old
Money Whither
Comment by Dianna G
I Wish This Was 42
Fictional Worlds
I'm definitely of the mind that if you feed a dog, it thinks of you as God.
If you feed a cat, it knows it's God.
I love dogs too, but says something about their psychology to be sure.
~Dianna