Three Strikes and You're Out

The pups are growing up fast and, we have to admit rather shame-faced, they have rather overtaken our management of them. It seems only 5 minutes ago that they were small, harmless bundles of fluff easily contained within these 2 and a half acres and more mischievous and cute than deadly, destructive or damaging. I suppose, too, if you accused us of it, we'd also have to admit that we were pretty much allowing them to absorb good behaviour (by osmosis or something) from Deefer and not really imposing any discipline out of doors.

Indoors we were OK, so they have rapidly learned what is allowed and what is not in terms of bodily functions, chewing, not fighting kittens etc, but out doors they have been allowed to run about where they could. They were told off if they chased chickens but this seemed to be only playful fun so it wasn't enforced with an iron fist.

Weds 14th Nov saw Liz scheduled to fly from Knock Airport to England to spend some time with Diamond (and, now, new husband JW) helping to paint the house and also meeting former work colleagues and friend Mazy-Lou. The puppies pick this day, as we are starting to think about the need to drive to the airport, to vanish. We are a bit worried but they've never gone missing before, so we start off walking round the house and garden shouting, whistling and clapping. Deefer is with us but there is no sign of pups. We widen the net. Liz walks the 12-acres boundary and I walk up and down the lane, with the vivid image of poor Coco hit by the vehicle still a bit raw in my head. I jump in the car and drive further up and down the lane where-upon I get a text from Liz. "I have them", she writes. "Butter wouldn't melt". They have somehow appeared from the Primrose Path - we assume they were across the lane and down in the fields to the south. You are never sure whether to beat their brains out or be delighted when they return. That was 'Strike 1' but we didn't know it.

So, the afternoon came and I dropped Liz to the airport and began my single-handed supervision of the 'farm' for the three days, hoping all would go smoothly. The sheep nearly behaved OK, but at one stage did decide to explore beyond our land into the Three Sisters' bit - there was a hole in the fence I'd need to shore up in the morning. The next day I fixed the fence and had a problem-free 'Sheep Watch' and then took the dogs round the 12-acres loop. We were right across the 5-acre field West of us where the Three Sisters' land butts up on John Deere Bob's field and the McGreal's house and garden, when Deefer suddenly led the pups through a hole in the hedge and then went chasing away for 2 fields and out of sight. I couldn't get through the hedge so I could only watch helplessly as they ran off. I whistled, shouted and clapped but I was wasting my time.

Eventually Deefer came rushing back across to me but not the pups. I could hear the McGreal children playing in their garden and I fancied at one stage the playful shouts turned to anxious wails as might happen if a pair of pups suddenly raced in and started jumping up like they had when those same kids came Trick-or-Treating but I could see nothing so I might only have been imagining it. After a while I gave up on whistling from the field and decided to walk Deefer home and then go out again in the car. Who should I see when I am half way back across the 5 acres than the two pups appearing from our garden through the field gate. They can only have got home first by getting into the lane and overtaking me by running along the tarmac, which doesn't bear thinking about. As we meet mid-field a lady's voice behind me hails me across the 200 yards of field, "Hellooooo! Have you lost your dogs?" I think it might be a McGreal Mum. "I had, but they've just found me!" I shout back. "They found us too!" she says. "Sorry!" . That was Strike 2 and a picture was beginning to form.

Strike 3 involved our poor aul' rooster, William the Conqueror, but he's in the next post along with the Pups arrested, tried and convicted.

Bonfire Night Irish Style

At lunchtime on Sunday 24^th we bad farewell to our house guests after a very successful 'bonfire night' (BfN is 23rd June, St John's Eve in The Republic of Ireland where they don't really go in for those nasty UK celebrations of toasted Catholics on Nov 5th, can't think why...). The Silverwoods arrived minus one niece (Em-J in Paris on exchange visit) but plus Lily and the seven pups in a crate. The pups are 3 weeks old now and very cute and, because we hope to end up with one of same Mum and Dad were very pleased that they were the source of much delighted, happy, fascinated sniffing for Coco and I.

 Mum cooked a superb chicken dinner. Dad had decided in the shop that the organic Free Range birdie he had been sent out to buy looked a bit light for feeding 7, so he'd supplemented with half a dozen wings and drumsticks. The kids were much amused by counting how many 'limbs' the evening roast appeared to have!

The bonfire, when we tried to light it, was good and wet, so took a time to get going but eventually blazed away. The kids amused themselves running back and forth from caravan (now officially adopted as their 'den'), helping dig out the horse-drawn-hay-rake-in-a-hedge, or chuck more wood on the fire. Nephew M (6) has been a bit anxious / alarmed / paranoid about fire since the Silverwoods had a bit of a drama in the house recently where the flu from a badly installed range started a minor house fire in a stud wall behind the range, so Mrs S was very pleased that he seems to be quite relaxed near the bonfire. 

 We retreated to bed at gone midnight Saturday and nobody was that keen to get up on the Sunday. Dad, Coco and I were all on our own rousting chickens and rabbits out of their scratchers. Eventually the guests and hostess stirred and Mum laid on porridge for the 'smalls' and then an Irish Fry for the rest of the humans. It was a lazy morning with occasional excitement for 'smalls' as the Lovely Girls managed to produce 4 eggs, and all in the proper place. 

 Our guests departed midday leaving Dad to a bit of lawn mowing and filling raised beds with soil and Mum to restoring house to 'between-guests' format. Mum and Dad discovered that our new concrete apron, being due west facing, makes a very nice 'sun-deck' from which to watch the sun sink over the galvanized farm gate and the Charolais cows, while sipping rosé. They are going to buy a French stylee café table and chairs.

And so to bed.

Deefs