One for Sorrow

Good Friday, and we're all sitting around on the terrace. The humans are sipping a merlot and chatting. Uncle Jim from next door has dropped in for a glass of wine. They are commenting (How dare they!) on the fact that I am a bark-y hanimal compared to the quiet, chilled out Meg and H-Man, and I am just about to be quiet to show them it can be done, when a magpie flops in. It seems to be fully grown and fit enough but either can't or won't fly, so it swoops and hops from bush to bush down the fence line, "cha-cha-cha" ing to a band playing.

Well - that's just too much temptation for a Deefer dog, and I take off in hot pursuit, prancing around on my hind legs at the trunk of every tree and bush (and fence post) where the magpie is doing his stuff. Eventually he fly-hops back across the garden and disappears out through the beech hedge. The humans, superstitious lot, are all looking around for a second magpie to get from "sorrow" to joy, but maybe the merlot will see to that OK

Deefs