Working dogs
We may be working dogs, but we’re herders not gardeners. Normally, it’s not a big deal. Yesterday however both Mum and Dad were working in the garden – but not in the same place. What is a herding dog supposed to do in that situation? It wasn’t so much a question of should I help Mum or lend a paw to Dad, but the deep seated need to round them up and get them into the same area of the garden. It was Pebbles rather than me who was faced with the challenge. I was feeling a bit off-colour, so didn’t want to do much.
Pebbles on the other paw went to the top of the orchard to see what Dad was doing and then down to the main part of the garden where Mum was mowing. She had no idea how to get them to the same place. Of course, given dad was using Mum’s sledgehammer to break up the old rotten compost bin and Mum was mowing the lawn, they didn’t want to be in the same place.
And relax
I only bothered to join in the fun when Mum and Dad both decided to sit in the bar and have a glass of wine. It meant I didn’t have to worry about moving either of them, but could just relax and enjoy their company. Until Mum decided it was time to put the bunting up on the bar. And Dad decided to sort out the arbour that blew over last week. I went inside and left Pebbles to sort them out. The last I saw, the arbour was in two pieces and looking very sorry for itself. On the bright side, the bunting is up, so that is a little more cheerful.
Love and licks
Wilma
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