Heart attack

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Our dogs and Hallow'en and Guy Fawkes Night

Some kindly soul had the imagination to set of a firework a few days ago. I know, it's a few weeks until 5th November and Hallow'en is on Wednesday. The shops have had fireworks on sale for several weeks now, so presumably someone has bought some and thought it a good idea to set them off regardless of the day, time, or the effect it will have on dogs, cats and other animals, and, no doubt, people. Alfie, our Yorkshire Terrier, has never really bothered with the noise of fireworks around November 5th (Guy Fawkes Night to those living outside Britain.)

Poppy, our other dog, is really terrified of them, but her tactic is to hide somewhere in the house or dive  into your lap, under the bed, behind furniture, etc. Alfie started barking and kept on barking for most of the evening. Now, whenever there's an unusual sound, generally from our neighbours who make all sorts of strange and peculiar sounds at all hours of the day and night, he will start of barking. And he just keeps on barking. He has never bothered about the noise of fireworks before now, so it's odd that he should start this year. Poppy, on the other hand, has always been jumpy with fireworks, however far away they are. We're not exactly sure what happened to her as a very young puppy. She may well have experienced something particularly nasty which frightened her as a pup, which might explain her fear of fireworks.

Alfie has discovered something living in the garden shed. It has nothing of ours in it, just junk which I presume has been left behind by former tenants, or even the landlord; an old bicycle frame, a really ancient mattress and odds and ends. The door doesn't close properly. Well, to be exact, it is off it's hinges and it's extremely difficult to close it properly. The 'something' has turned out to be a cat. Now, cats and our dogs don't mix (well, do dogs and cats get on in normal circumstances? Well, the answer is generally, not very well.)

The other day we couldn't find Alfie. He wasn't in any of his usual places, one of which is sleeping on our bed. We looked all over the house and in the garden. The french windows were open, leading from the kitchen/diner into the garden. Poppy went outside. She appeared to know where he was. One of Alfie's little routines is to go round the fence and check. Well, it appears to be what he does. Poppy was up at the end of the garden near the rickety shed (well, I'm sure a strong gust of wind would knock it over.) She started barking and ran towards the house and I went out to her. She was telling us that Alfie was in the shed. Not difficult to get inside as the door is virtually impossible to close. It is completely off it hinges. I went and managed to get the door open and Alfie was inside, perched on some of the junk in there. At the back of the shed, at a safe distance, was the cat. I managed to get Alfie out and in the house, but it would appear that the cat is what is drawing him to the shed.

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