Saturday, September 14, 2013
Life is to be enjoyed, not endured.
Three nights away. In my absence the little angels have been busy.
Sophie has been digging. 10 large holes in the driveway and every pot and trough within reach cleared of soil for the winter. She re-excavates the outflow pipe from the septic tank. After this she has a bath.
Bob has managed to burrow under the fence around the compost heap. He brings a dead thrush into the kitchen. He is extremely reluctant to give this trophy up. When the thrush is taken away from him he returns with a mouthful of silage. This routine is repeated several times. Sophie joins in. ' The font ' wonders why Sophie was given a bath.
At night Bob refuses to sleep . He does his best to explain to ' the font ' that one of his sheep is missing. '' He''ll have settled down by tomorrow " I say over the phone. Bob has different ideas. He cries until midnight three nights in a row.
In the arrivals hall Bob and Sophie see Angus before he sees them . Bob fills his lungs, throws his head back and lets out a reverbarating howl of delight. Every head turns towards him. That form of embarrassment only dog owners know. Travellers of a nervous disposition sidle away. '' That's the last time I'm bringing your dogs to the airport ! " says ' the font '.
Last night Bob and his sister are asleep by nine . They wake at seven. Angus wonders if he should point out this difference in behaviour in ' his dogs ' but thinks better of it.