Save that Bra

All is peaceful. My wife is relaxing in front of the television and I am in my favorite spot, in front of my computer, engrossed. Suddenly a black face is peering at me in the doorway, Baxter, with a flesh coloured bra clenched between his teeth. Damn the dog.

It is normally a frustrating procedure to persuade the dog to relinquish 'his' possession. He retrieves, but on his own terms. If I put my hand out, he'll pull back. If I chase him I'll be left for dust. On the other hand my wife does not want any holey modification to her underwear. I suddenly have a bright idea.

Jumping up I yell, "bra alert," and make a dash for the garage, Baxter hammering after me, still clenching his prize. I grab the mower and wheel it quickly onto the grass. He wheels around, dropping the bra. More fun to be had chasing me pushing the mower. I grab the opportunity and run to pick up the garment. There, no holes, just dust and dirt.

Baxter's adrenalin is pumping now, circling the mower at a pace, trying to out-bark the noise he thinks will be made when I start the engine. I push the mower back into the garage and the dog loses interest.

Thank goodness, another bra saved.

Ten Times the Child

My dog is a brat, a bit like me. I use the hoover to suck up dust from our wooden floors. As soon as I fetch the machine, Baxter goes into hyper-naughty mode. He knows I am about to clean the house.He dashes outside and fetches a stick which he brings inside and proceeds to chew into little pieces, leaving dust and gooey chewed bits on the floor. I sigh and fetch the broom to sweep up the larger pieces that he has so inconsiderately left lying around.

I then start the hoover and proceed with the task that I rather enjoy. Next, wet wipe with a mop, and as I begin Baxter brings a dusty stone inside with a look of glee, more dust and dirt. I finish the wet wipe and restart the hoover to suck up stony dust, Baxter padding around, his beady eye on me, looking for the main chance.

Eventually Baxter seems to realize that he is not going to get the playful reaction he wants, and thankfully calms down.

Is mine a dog's life or what?