The saddest sound a dog can hear is the sound of a chain saw cutting down a tree. It breaks our hearts to think there is one less natural place to cock our legs and to sniff to find who has been there before us. It can be a moving part of any walk to think about the generations of dog families who have been there before you, each doing their little bit to leave their mark on the environment. Oh I know that some posh places have lots of street lamps, but cocking your leg up a concrete post will always be a very different experience. You can get into the whole ‘who can pee the highest’ thing, but that’s not the same thing at all. You don’t greet a lamppost as you do a tree, with reverence and awe. You don’t bow your head to it in thanks for the service it provides and the beauty it provides in doing so. You don’t woof at a lamppost in appreciation for it taking carbon dioxide out of the air and giving you oxygen in exchange.
I’ve almost forgotten why I started telling you all that, but yesterday that was the sound we could hear from our house. The sound of another tree dying. The sound of its great branches waving their last before going to the great log heap in the sky. I did try suggesting to our Mistress that for every tree we heard being cut down we should plant one of our own, but she gently explained that there are only so many we can reasonably get into the garden. I’ll keep working on her and see if we could fit one or two more in. Either that or buy our own little wood somewhere that we could put some more in.
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