Man's best fiend?

Expletives cannot describe how I felt when I came back after a quick shopping trip, 40 mins max, to find my delightful dogs had re-decorated the kitchen floor with the contents of a very full rubbish bin.

Delighted to see me, my three rescue Beagles, not the least sheepish to have caused such havoc were excitedly jumping around my feet, while I loudly lamented their ‘shabby shit’ design across my kitchen floor.

Oh the joy of wet, bloody packaging that formerly held uncooked pork and the even greater delight of the greasy torn foil that I had cooked it in. Empty avocado skins were mushed into the knotted rug, while Waitrose and Aldi packaging festered side by side – this was a diverse mixture of mayhem. A tooth marked dog food tin indicated that no item had been left untouched and left me extremely concerned what actually had been ingested – would it get stuck in the colon or pass serenely out, another treat for later?

Lost in a spasm of apoplexy, I shouted so much and at such a velocity, that the dogs next door started barking and later that evening I was hoarse!

Why do dogs do it – you rescue them, walk them twice a day, feed them, fuss them, pay the vets bills and all they do to say thanks, is chew your ‘Operation Mincemeat’ hardback, ‘Cats’ DVD and poop on the lawn.

It took me over an hour to clean up; while I’d like to think that the perpetrators had time to think carefully about their actions and reflect accordingly. I suspect and secretly hope that they felt queasy but most likely, they were concerned at the delay of their dinner and afternoon walk.

I wish my dogs were perfect – that they sat when asked, came back when called, never rolled in things long dead but they are animals like the rest of us, subject to characteristics and instincts of their type; which is why eventually I did forgive them as I also had conformed to type as a forgetful middle aged woman, who on going out knew to move the bin safety out of harm’s way but forgot!

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