I’m doing quite a bit of writing at the moment, the sort that needs concentration. And what I really, really could do without just as I’m searching for the perfect simile is the distant sound of rummaging followed by a shocked ‘wuff’ from Darcy (a good dog) followed by a dull thud followed by some regular sploshing noises.
But that’s what I got this morning, and the perpetrator was of course Indie. Or the Black Moth, as he’d rather be known as when he’s in that sort of mood. No longer the mild-mannered young whippet, he’d hoisted the Jolly Roger and swaggered off for some swashbuckling pirate stuff, as I discovered when I had wrenched myself away from the computer screen and gone to investigate.
First of all he’d done the Andrex puppy thing with the downstairs loo roll – grabbed it and run, and the hall was full of loo paper. There was tissue paper everywhere – round the legs of the hall chair, a short way up the stairs and all along the passageway. It had been a new-ish roll and it went on for miles. The Black Moth must have got it hooked around his legs and then had a merry frolic once it was securely attached. It took quite a long time to roll it up again and now the roll looks bulging and eccentric, and not the sort of thing you can leave in a place frequently visited by guests. So I had to go and fetch a new one and install it.
Secondly the Black Moth had visited the sitting room and targeted a wooden decoy snipe that had been sitting there quietly minding its own business. A real bird would have been more fun, but in the absence of actual feathers the wooden snipe would have to do. Indie had neatly removed its beak then hurled the body around the sitting room (hence the muffled thud) because I retrieved it from underneath the sofa. Darcy, who is a good dog, had done his school prefect bit at that stage and alerted me to the outrages taking place.
A pirate who has tied the place together with loo roll and de-beaked a snipe is a thirsty pirate, so Indie had finished off a golden half hour by drinking out of the loo. I know this now, because he was doing it again when I went to find him. He’s far too small to reach right in without effort, his back paws were on the floor but the rest of him was half way down it when I discovered and apprehended him.
By now I was completely diverted from my writing, and all the dogs were up and active. So I took them on a walk, which is what Indie had been after from the start. And it was lovely – it’s not raining at the moment and there is an indefinable sense of Spring in the air. There’s probably a moral in here somewhere – ‘a pirate in the hand is worth a loo roll in the downstairs loo’ or something. But I’m glad we went out, and the snipe can be glued.