Burnt toast, lost dog Sunday

Not the best day so far. The house smells of burnt toast, a seemingly impossible small to eradicate. Not a calamity, but more a sign of things to come. The two computers in use in the house seem intent on barging each other of the internet and one of the dogs has made a bid for freedom – well twice in fact.

That would be fine if it was one of the dogs that usually runs away -well,  not fine exactly, but at least I know that they can find their way home. No, this – and I must whisper it in case K finds out – this was Chester, her much beloved Pug/spaniel cross who has decided that the garden is not big enough to contain him. He is barely a year old, very beautiful and has a very strong will, as well as, it would seem, a touch of wanderlust.

He was heard setting up quite a hullabaloo in next door’s garden earlier this morning, but fortunately returned without trespass being required on our part…and I have just met him walking nonchalantly up the lane to our front gate, having been exploring goodness knows where in the twenty minutes he has been gone.

So, new strategies required for the honoured guest (read little tyke) – trips into the garden must be accompanied, that is a pain, especially when it’s raining, and never must he be given the chance to run with Lucy or Rosie, our own two accomplished escape artists, who have been known to require collection from several miles away.

So, life has become just a little more interesting…I think today I shall award myself the day off from writing and concentrate on keeping the dog pack under control!

About SallyJ

I am a writer and a poet.
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